The New Resident
by WalkerWalkerChick
Summary: For Rick, returning to Alexandria meant picking up where he left off. For Carrie, it meant the start of living, rather than just surviving. Despite attempting to keep their relationship secret and free of emotion, Rick and Carrie find themselves falling in love, but too afraid to do anything about it. Post 513 (no Rick/Jessie) NC17. Slow burn. Sequel to The Stray Passenger.
1. Chapter 1

Welcome to The New Resident, I'm so excited to start posting this story! Huge (HUGE) thanks to Angie B, who's contribution to the plot and character development is phenomenal!

This story will take a change of pace from The Stray Passenger. As they're home in Alexandria, there'll be less action and more character/people development. But, that's not to say there won't be action…oh boy, there will be action, I promise. I also advise that you grab some aloe vera or burn ointment, because the slow burn between Rick and Carrie is not over. There is light at the end of the tunnel, but the slow burn is not over!

If you're interested in little **sneak peaks** , I suggest you head to the Walking Dead Fan Fiction . com website, where you'll find this story under the same username. You'll be able to see character pictures and profiles that give little hints as to what is in their future.

That's all for now. Enjoy chapter 1, and please leave a review at the end.

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Standing in the threshold of Deanna Monroe's townhouse, Carrie took a moment to brace herself before going in, knowing that the first impression she made would have great impact on her future. Rick had just left, and despite Deanna's warm nature, Carrie couldn't help but feel rather alone. She wished that Rick had come in with her, that Michonne hadn't believed her when she said she'd be okay on her own. Standing in the hallway, Carrie listened to the sound of a kettle boiling, and it took all her courage to clear her throat and speak.

"Deanna?"

She waited nervously as she heard footsteps, and taking advantage of her last few moments alone, she forcefully told herself to snap out of it. Years ago she had learnt how to hide the physical manifestations of her nerves, her colleagues and mentors teaching her how to carry herself with confidence and poise. Two years ago the thought of being interviewed for a position wouldn't have perturbed her in the slightest. Lacking confidence and showing how nervous she felt was something new to her these days.

"Carrie," Deanna greeted her warmly, appearing in the hallway. "Welcome. Come on in."

Deanna seemed to have the distinct ability to put someone at ease, her nature and intensity of her smile making Carrie feel as though she had the woman's entire attention. Her nerves beginning to ease, she came forward at Deanna's encouragement and followed her through the living and dining room. Walking slowly, she looked around in curiosity, amazed that everything seemed so…homely. The townhouse was nicely decorated and comfortably furnished, and it was clearly someone's home, not a space they simply occupied. That was a strange concept for Carrie to consider…she hadn't had a true home for a long time. She didn't count her Upper West Side apartment as her home, despite remembering it as though she'd been there that morning. It was practically a show home, perfectly neat and organised because she was hardly ever there.

Looking around, she felt like there was something odd about this townhouse, something that she couldn't quite put her finger on. Slowly beginning to put the pieces together, she kicked herself when she realised that what was throwing her off was the electricity…she'd known about the solar panels in advance of her arrival, and yet it was disconcerting to see that the lights in the kitchen were on, that the LCD screen on a stereo player above the fireplace was illuminated. It was all very disconcerting to see, and it made her feel like she was in another realm, that neither she nor her surroundings really belonged here. Looking around some more, her heart skipped a beat when she noticed that a video camera had been set up on a tripod, pointing directly to a lone armchair in front of the windows.

"I'm going to start with a very important question," Deanna began, heading into the kitchen.

Feeling the pressure of the sudden start, Carrie followed her in and prepared herself.

"Have you eaten today?"

Her eyes widened in surprise, much to Deanna's amusement. That was not the question she had been expecting.

"It doesn't escape my attention that living out there, food can be difficult to come by."

She questioned whether Deanna really knew how difficult food was to come by. "I've eaten," she said softly, trying to find her voice. Their meagre breakfast had been hours ago, but she didn't think she had it in her to stomach eating anything right now. "Thank you."

"Well, can I get you something to drink?" Deanna offered next, sounding concerned. "I'm making myself tea, but I also have coffee or juice. There's soda too, or water of course."

The question felt more difficult to answer than it should. "Water would be nice, please," she said, latching onto the familiar.

"Cold, or tepid?"

Again, Carrie struggled to answer. There was an option…she had an option of which water she wanted. With startling clarity, she remembered the half bottle of murky brown water she had carried three weeks ago, that despite its filth it had tasted like liquid gold. She remembered licking trees and leaves to collect the morning dew, literally laying down in puddles to take as much moisture as she could get, barely keeping herself alive. And now she had the option of how she wanted her water served to her? It seemed ridiculous…excessive.

"Cold, please."

In astonishment, she watched as Deanna fetched a clean glass and then opened the refrigerator, allowing Carrie a glimpse at the food inside. Taking a jug out of the door, she poured the glass of water and then put it back and closed the door. Still amazed, she looked at the glass of crystal clear water when Deanna gave it to her, only just remembering to thank her for it. She was almost hesitant to pick it up, part of her still believing that it wasn't real, that this was all a joke, a well crafted illusion. But when she did pick it up, there was no mistaking that it was real, that it was indeed cold.

She gratefully sipped at the water and watched Deanna from the corner of her eye. Pouring herself a cup of tea and then leaving it to brew, she refilled the kittle and returned it to the cradle, and now Carrie's eyes were fixed on the kitchen tap. Water had just flowed from that tap…she'd seen it with her own eyes, and here Deanna was, acting as though it wasn't incredible. Getting herself together, she knew that to Deanna, it was completely normal. She'd been in Alexandria from the very start. Rick was right…she had known her all of three minutes, and she already could tell that Deanna had little knowledge of the world outside. This understanding made Carrie want to shout and scream at her, to take her by the shoulders and shake the knowledge into her.

Given that Deanna had only welcomed her into her home, offered her food and given her water, this reaction was a little extreme.

"This must feel very strange for you?" Deanna commented perceptively.

Carrie just nodded, not knowing what to say.

"It's strange for every newcomer," she said kindly, throwing her teabag in a small compost bin before adding a little cold water. There was a short pause, and she looked at Carrie with a mixture of sympathy and curiosity. "Shall we get started?"

Taking her glass of water with her, Carrie followed Deanna into the living room, her eyes drawn out the front windows to where she could see the walls. Pausing where she stood, she observed the walls and the lush green trees in front of it, catching a glimpse of what looked like a church steeple beyond it. Mentally shaking her head she tried to make it all stop appearing so surreal, and for a second time she wished she had asked Michonne to come with her.

"Is it okay if I record our session today?" Deanna enquired.

Carrie breathed a mental sigh of relief. This was a question she could answer. "Yes. Rick said you would."

Nodding, Deanna adjusted the video camera and then gestured to the chair opposite. Carrie put her glass on the coffee table, but hesitated when she looked at the chair. It's fabric was light blue and cream in colour, and she self-consciously looked down at herself…she was covered in mud from where she had slipped over that morning, not the mention the blood stains all over her jacket.

"Don't worry about that," Deanna assured her, seeing her dilemma. "Filthier than you have sat in that chair, I assure you."

"Thank you," she replied softly, wishing she could properly find her voice.

It was warm in the townhouse, uncomfortably so with her jacket on, and so still trying to keep the chair clean, Carrie opened the zip and shrugged it off. Her bare arms were marginally cleaner than the sleeves of the jacket, which she hastily folded and set down on the floor. Taking her seat and getting comfortable, she took another sip of her water and then crossed her legs, still trying to keep the dried mud off the chair.

"So, Carrie," Deanna began, her voice warm and kind. She spoke with purpose, her tone carefully considered to put Carrie at ease. "I'm Deanna Monroe. I was a congresswoman in Ohio, the fifteenth district. My husband and I, Reg, we live here with our two sons. Spencer is our youngest, and you've already met Aidan."

Oh, I've met him alright, Carrie thought darkly.

"When the outbreak began, the army directed us to Alexandria, and we've been here ever since. Reg was a Professor of Architecture. He drew the plans for the walls you see today."

"They're quite…" Carrie began, scrambling for the right adjective. "Imposing."

Deanna smiled at this. "We're part way through a two stage expansion. At the rate we're bringing in people, we're going to need more houses."

Carrie nodded in agreement, trying not to wring her hands together. She wished she had something to do with them, a pen or a piece of paper to fold…she wished she hadn't put her jacket on the floor.

"Do you know how our recruiting process normally works?"

"Yes," she answered. "Aaron told me about it. He watches people and makes his judgement…then he shows them pictures, and brings them back."

"And then they sit here, in the very chair you occupy now…and we talk."

"Have you ever turned away people Aaron brought in?"

"Not at first. There have been three people who had not worked out, and we had to send them away."

"How many people have worked out?"

"Not including Rick's group? Twelve all together…although we've lost some since then. We hope to bring in greater numbers soon. I trust Aaron's judgement, but I've restricted how often he can go out there…it's difficult to change to social construct of this community too quickly. Rick's group had trouble settling in at first, but they got there. Now that he's back, I feel I'll also be looking to him these days, to seek his judgement."

"Over people? Why's that?"

"He understands what's at stake. Of course, everyone knows what at stake here, but being a father means that Rick understands even more. He has more to lose…I expect his judgement will be a little more conservative."

Carrie had to agree with this, knowing of his reluctance to stop for her. "Is Aaron too liberal?"

"No," Deanna mused. "Like me, he's filled with hope. Hope for people, hope for the future…sometimes hope can bite the hands that feeds it. I expect that Rick and Aaron's judgements will balance one another out nicely. So I'll let Aaron do his recruiting, and then I'll let Rick do his judging…and then I'll decide."

Taking another sip of water, Carrie's hand shook a little as she put it back down on the coffee table beside her.

"I'd like for you to stay here, Carrie," Deanna told her, not wasting any time. "I'd like you to be a part of this community."

Though she was relieved, Carrie couldn't help but frown. "You don't even know me."

"Aaron and Rick do. Make no mistake that you would not have been brought this far if they did not approve. If Rick didn't approve, he wouldn't let you join his supply run. He wouldn't give you a weapon, he wouldn't let you ride in a car with his son. On this occasion, with Rick being the one who brought you in, I don't think there's a lot for me to worry about."

"Thank you," she said gratefully. Though she had been reassured for weeks now that Deanna would not throw her out, she had still sometimes worried that she wouldn't be allowed to stay.

"Now that we've got that out of the way," Deanna smiled pleasantly, sitting back on the couch and getting comfortable. "I'd like to hear all about you. I want to know your story, please."

Fully prepared for this recount, Carrie took a breath before launching into her explanation. "When it all started, I wasn't paying much attention. I hadn't been wat-"

"Not about the outbreak," Deanna interrupted apologetically. "Tell me about you. Who you are, where you grew up, what you did for a living…everything."

A little taken aback, it took Carrie a moment to regather her thoughts. "Does any of that really matter?"

"Yes," Deanna implored, leaning forward a little. "Who you were before, matters. Who you were determines who you have become."

"I'm not like who I used to be," Carrie shook her head, feeling completely disconnected to her old life.

"You are," Deanna insisted. "You've changed of course, you've grown. You've seen things, and done things too…but the person you were before is still there. She still matters."

Looking into her lap, Carrie wondered where to begin, trying to remember her own history. While she knew it, having had months in which to dwell on what used to be, it didn't feel like it belonged to her. Her past was only a distant memory of better times.

"My name is Carlene Georgia Hartmann," she started, seeking something easy. "My maiden name was Godridge. I kept my husband's name after we divorced."

"That's a good start," Deanna encouraged when she trailed off. "Keep going. Who are your parents?"

"Stanley and Yvonne Godridge. I was born November twentieth, nineteen eighty, in San Francisco. Both my parents came from old money. My dad had investments in all sorts of companies…I never really knew what he did."

"And your mom?"

She was everything I didn't want to be, Carrie thought unkindly. "She did fundraising work for some charities. She was…a typical rich wife I guess. She socialised a lot…shopped a lot too."

"And you, Carrie? Were you a typical rich kid?" Deanna enquired, not unkindly.

"If that means, did I not appreciate the opportunities I had? Yes," she admitted. "I was kind of a brat."

"And then?"

"Then, I…" she slowly began, trying to find the right words. "I knew I was facing the same life as my mother, and I wanted more. I worked my ass off to get into a good college, and then I ran away to the other side of the country. I started a business degree at Dartmouth

Deanna smiled, amused by her story. "Did you have a major?"

"Advertising."

"Why advertising?" she asked now, pressing her for more. "What made you chose that?"

Carrie gave a short laugh, beginning to feel the same type of excitement she had the first time she took her advertising classes. "Economics was dull, management was easy…advertising was fun."

"Fun?"

"Yes. It was all billboards, tricks and persuasion. I used to be able to talk my way into or out of anything…I was well suited to it."

"And you made that your career?"

"Yes…when I got married, it uhh," she began, remembering the conversation clearly. "It was on the agreement that we move to New York. So we did."

"Were you good at it?"

"Very," she smiled. "When the outbreak began, I had another agency trying to headhunt me."

Deanna smiled, and she had a way of making her feel as though she was intensely interested. At her encouragement, Carrie elaborated a little more about her job, discussing her campaigns and the department she managed.

"Sounds to me like you're a people person," Deanna suggested.

"I was then," she smiled, though it faded now. "I'm so sure about these days though."

"But at heart, you were people focused," Deanna said, imploring her. "Isn't that a key component of advertising? Of marketing? Knowing people…knowing everything about them?"

"Yes."

"You said you had your own team, that you were second in charge for your department. It sounds to me like you worked very well with people."

"I guess so," she agreed, struggling to remember that side of herself. "These days I guess I'm used to working against people."

"You said you were married? Would you tell me about him?"

"His name was Logan Hartmann. We met in college during our sophomore year."

"How did you meet?"

"I was visiting a friend in the residential halls, and he…" Carrie began, smiling despite the bad memories of her marriage. "He was in a full on panic because he had a job interview, and he didn't know how to iron his suit."

Deanna chuckled, her face crinkling with mirth. "Ah, young men and life skills. You ironed it for him?"

"Well he was cute, and flustered, so yeah, I helped him out."

"What attracted you to him?"

Carrie paused, thinking back. "I knew him a little, I knew he came from money like me. I liked that despite that, he was still trying to get a job during college. So I ironed his suit, badly, and slipped my number into his pocket."

"Did he get the job?"

Again, Carrie paused, bracing herself for the feelings of humiliation she knew all too well. "No…turns out he was actually going on a date. That should have been my first indication."

"Indication of what?"

"That he took issue with the concept of honesty. Monogamy too."

"Ouch," Deanna cringed sympathetically.

Carrie just shrugged. "It was a long time ago. I should have seen it coming."

"Why's that?"

"I knew from the beginning that he wasn't the most truthful. He was more than suited to his career on Wall Street."

"Still," Deanna commiserated. "I bet that hurt like a bitch."

Surprised by this comment, Carrie actually gave a short laugh and smiled. "Yeah, it did."

Moving on, Deanna posed her next question. "Do you have children?"

"No."

"Did you have children?"

"No," she said again.

"One day, maybe?"

Carrie gave another short laugh, but this was one of derision. "No," she repeated for a third time.

"You sound certain of that."

"I am," she nodded. "I wanted children before…but not anymore. Not like this."

"You might find the world behind these walls is different," Deanna pressed her.

Shaking her head, Carrie disagreed. "It's not going to be like this forever."

"I disagree," Deanna smiled. "Alexandria has a future. You know of Judith, Rick's daughter?"

"I've heard of her."

"She's going to grow up here…this will be her home. Yours too."

Though she knew what she wanted to say, to argue that the world outside was not going to stay out there forever, that nothing was permanent, Carrie held her tongue. Perhaps now was not the best time to be making this argument, not when Deanna was being so kind and welcoming to her.

"Tell me about what happened to you during the outbreak," Deanna requested. "When it all began."

"I was in New York," she began to recount. "I was busy with work, so I didn't really pay much to attention to how bad things were getting…it was surprisingly calm in New York."

"New York held out for quite some time," Deanna told her.

Carrie nodded in agreement. "I think that's why I didn't realise how bad it was. When I did, I managed to get to the airport," she added, remembering the ache in her feet. "I think I got one of the last flights."

"Where did you go?"

"I was going to fly to Orlando, and then drive to Miami. My parents were down there for the summer…I thought it would just be a matter of getting them to answer my calls. I didn't make it there though. We flew for hours, and then diverted to Atlanta."

"What happened then?" Deanna pressed, Carrie having trailed off.

"It was…pretty bad," she said, not wanting to elaborate. Taking a deep breath, she glanced at the camera and then looked away, wondering what to say next. "Two days later, a guy from the Red Cross found me hiding in a dumpster. We found some more people, and then we managed to get out of the city. That night, we could hear the city being bombed…we could see the the flashes of light from miles away. We ended up camping in the mountains for a while."

"And were you safe there?"

"I guess…Walkers tend not to go uphill unless they're following something. We spent the winter in those areas, we didn't stray too far from the Atlanta region. But the Walkers just chipped away at us one by one. At one stage, we had over twenty people at our camp…when there were only five of us left, we hit the road. And then there was only me."

"You lived in the thick of it?"

She nodded. It felt strange to acknowledge that, particularly to someone who had not. "I had a second group for a while too. I guess by default I became the leader."

"Not by default," Deanna corrected her. "There was a reason."

Not arguing, she just continued. "Things were good for a while. By complete accident we came across a house that belonged to a coupon addict…we weren't even going to check it, but at the last minute we decided we would. That was a good few weeks."

"You only stayed a few weeks?"

"Yes. Another group arrived, and…" she trailed off heavily, her shoulders slumping against her will. Glancing at the video camera she wrung her hands together, not knowing how much she wanted to say, especially when she was being filmed.

"Something bad happened?" Deanna softly enquired when Carrie didn't continue.

"Yes."

"You don't have to tell me everything that happened," she said kindly.

She gave a small smile at this. "That's what Rick told me."

Deanna echoed this smile. "He's seems protective of you."

Carrie just shrugged. "Anyway, we," she began again, clearing her throat. "We left on foot in July last year…I've been on foot ever since," she concluded. Now that she knew what really happened at Terminus, she didn't want that name to ever pass her lips again, and so she didn't bring it up.

"Aaron told me that you were alone for quite some time?"

"Yes."

"How did that happen?"

"The usual way," she said bluntly, feeling her throat tighten as she thought of what happened to Sue, to Shannon. "If we weren't killed by Walkers, we were killed by people."

"I understand," Deanna nodded sympathetically.

This remark, while kind in nature, immediately got on Carrie's nerves. Barely holding her tongue, she forced herself to not glare at Deanna, to not make her true thoughts known. Deanna had no possible way of understanding…to say that she did was insulting.

"How long were you on your own for?"

Clearing her throat again, Carrie took a drink of water before answering. "Since November third," she stated, clearly remembering that day. Sue had been the one who kept track of the dates, not her.

"Four months?" Deanna said in awe, tilting her head a little. "How did you survive that?"

"I just did. It wasn't really a conscious decision," she mused, remembering the way that after a few weeks, she completely spaced out. "I just kept walking."

"What did you do?"

"I walked," she repeated. "One day I just started walking, and then didn't stop. Sometimes I found houses or towns to stay for a while, to find food or supplies. Other times I found cars that worked and gas…I covered a fair bit of ground. I think Rick found me not far from the South Carolina border."

"That's an admirable feat," Deanna complimented.

"Thanks."

"Aaron told me that the day Rick picked you up, you were covered in guts…in the dead."

"Yes. It kept me safe…I would cover myself, and I didn't have to worry about Walkers. I think I once walked right next to one for an hour, just to see where it was going. It was warm, too. During the winter when I was by myself, I," she started, laughing in embarrassment. "I would actually lie down and pull a dead Walker on top of me…it was warmer if I could get two of them."

Deanna seemed neither disgusted, nor surprised by this admission. "You're smart. Resourceful."

Carrie didn't know what to say to this, so she took another drink of water.

"We need people like you," Deanna continued. "People like Rick."

"Yes," she agreed without hesitation.

There was a long pause now, and it was clear that Deanna was considering her next line of thought, her next questions. Letting her think, Carrie looked out the door to her right, seeing that it led out onto a side terrace. It felt peculiar to be sitting in doors, and once again she found her eyes drawn to the stereo player above the fireplace, looking at the illuminated LCD screen.

"Have you killed people?"

Surprised by the blunt question, Carrie frowned as she looked around at Deanna. "Have you?" she countered without thinking.

"I've exiled three men. That's as good as killing them."

Taking note of her naivety, Carrie rebuked her. "Not necessarily." She looked out onto the terrace again, longing for the taste of fresh air. "Yes, I've killed people."

"For what reasons?"

"Some by mercy…one by accident. Others I killed to protect myself, to protect my group."

"Would you please tell me about the people you've killed."

Turning back, Carrie looked her in the eye. "No," she refused, remembering what Rick had told her.

To her surprise, Deanna accepted this refusal without hesitation. "The things you've had to do…has doing them made you a bad person?"

"Is that what you think?"

"I'm asking what you think."

Seeing that she wouldn't be able to avoid answering, she gave this question consideration. "It makes me…" she began, thinking about Granger and his group. "It makes me someone who will do what's necessary. I don't know if that makes me bad or good."

There was a brief lull in conversation, the in-depth nature of it calling for a pause. Her fingers wrapped around the half glass of water, she looked at the smears she had left as a result of the condensation on her dirty hands…and to think she had considered them to be rather clean. Taking another sip, she put the glass aside again, her eyes still trained on the brown smears she had left as Deanna resumed the conversation.

"What death has hit you the hardest?" she asked, leaning back into the couch. "Whose loss has hurt you the most?"

"All of them," Carrie answered automatically.

"No," she shook her head. "There's always one…there's always one death that hurts the most."

"How do you know?"

"Because I know," she stated.

Sensing that there was a story behind Deanna's certainty, Carrie felt obligated to answer. But that was easier said than done, particularly as she thought about her answer, as Shannon's face came to mind. Feeling her throat tighten, Carrie looked out onto the terrace yet again…she tried so hard not to think about Shannon. Thinking about her was more painful than thinking about Granger.

"Her name was Shannon," she began, her voice weaker than she would have liked. "She was fourteen."

"You loved her?"

"Of course."

"You provided for her…you cared for her."

"Yes."

"You protect her."

"No."

"No?"

Carrie shook her head. "I only tried to protect her," she confessed, thinking about how Victor had nearly assaulted her, about how she had eventually died.

There was silence now, and perhaps Deanna regretted pressing Carrie for this information. "How did she die?" she asked anyway.

"The usual way," she started. Though she knew she didn't have to answer, she felt the need to verbalise it, to acknowledge what happened. After it had happened, the group hadn't spoken in days, and so her death had never really been acknowledged. "We were on the road, and I normally slept with my arm around her. One night I just rolled over in my sleep. Someone fell asleep on watch, and a Walker came. It just happened to go for her, not me…just chance."

"I'm sorry to hear that," Deanna said kindly, her tone making Carrie feel as though she really was.

Trying to move past the tight feeling in her throat, she clenched her jaw and wiped her palms on the front of her jeans, restlessly scratching at some dried mud.

"What do you think your role will be here in Alexandria?"

"I don't know," she answered, glad for the change of topic. "Rick says you'll give me one."

"Well, it's not a dictatorship. You have a choice of course."

"Rick says that I'll be a low priority."

Deanna sighed, and nodded her head. "It's rather crass to class ourselves in such ways, isn't it?" When Carrie didn't answer, she continued. "Do you have invaluable skills?"

Carrie shook her head. "No. But, err…Rick says-"

"Rick says, Rick says, Rick says," Deanna teased, smiling at her.

Carrie laughed now, uncomfortable with Deanna's astute perception.

"Are you two close?"

Remembering her agreement with Rick, Carrie carefully gave her answer. "In a sense, I suppose. There's not a lot to do when you're driving all day except make small talk."

Deanna gave her a lingering smile, but continued nonetheless. "I interrupted you, I'm sorry. What is it that Rick says?"

Wringing her hands together, she thought back to their previous line of conversation. "Rick says that you have a doctor here, that he's teaching Rosita."

"We have two doctors here," Deanna confirmed. "Pete and Denise, although Pete is our primary physician."

"I'd like to learn from him, if he's willing to teach me. But, I figure I'd be a supply runner."

"Are you good at that type of thing?"

"Yes. Plus, Rick's been…" she trailed off for a moment, realising she had brought him up again. "He's been teaching me how to shoot properly. The whole group has."

Deanna nodded slowly, and it appeared she was carefully scrutinising her. "I don't see you as being just a supply runner."

"No?"

"No," Deanna confirmed, still scrutinising her. "I don't think I can contain you to just one role…I don't think you're the type of woman who wears only one hat."

"What type of woman am I?"

"Well, you're a protector, a guardian. I can see you taking watch on occasion."

"Okay."

"You're a provider…I can see you doing supply runs. You're a carer…I can see you maybe teaching our children, helping out our elderly. You're organised and efficient too…ruthlessly, I'd bet," Deanna smiled. "So I can see you helping Olivia in the pantry. Most of all…you're a planner. I can see you helping Maggie and I with our work."

"What work is that?"

"Planning for the future. Planning for industry, agriculture, development…real life."

Once again, Carrie turned and looked out the window.

"Rick thinks that's a pie in the sky," Deanna continued. "I know it probably feels that way to you too."

"Yes," she admitted.

"I felt that way at first. I promise you, it won't feel that way forever." Leaning forward again, Deanna smiled at her. "Tell me, Carrie. What were you like to work with?"

"Sorry?"

"What were you like to work with?"

She hesitated before answering. "I was thirty one, and I had the power to make or break someone's career."

"Did you use that to your advantage?"

"Only to get the best out of people. I earned myself quite a few nicknames, some of them nicer than others."

"What was the worst?"

"I can't say it on camera."

Deanna chuckled. "The nicest?"

"Parrot."

"Where did that come from?"

"I would always give credit where it was due. But no matter how good someone's work was, I would always tell them 'now do better'. They hated me for it…but they always came back with better."

"You wanted the best out of people," Deanna nodded, echoing her earlier statement. "Sounds like you always got it."

"Yes…I had a fantastic career, I loved it. But it didn't always make me a lot of friends."

"I commiserate."

"Right," Carrie laughed. "Politician."

Deanna chuckled, and for a moment it was as though the two of them were old friends, sitting back and enjoying a laugh about the good old days. As though that really were the case, the tone of their conversation changed, and she started to feel a little more relaxed, at ease.

"I believe we're going to be good friends, Carrie," Deanna said candidly, looking at her intensely. "I hope you feel the same way."

Breathing out a long sigh, she considered this. Despite her initial reservations, Carrie nodded in agreement.

"Will you do it?" Deanna asked, beginning to sound a little excited. "Will you be a part of our community? Will you help provide for it, and care for it, and plan for it's future?"

As the weight of this request hit her, Carrie was filled with an insurmountable sense of hope, one she hadn't felt so strongly since the day Rick had picked her up. Looking Deanna in the eye, and firmly believing in her answer, Carrie nodded. "I'd like that. Thank you."

"No," Deanna smiled. "Thank you, Carrie."

Amused by this, Carrie chuckled under her breath, surprised that given the situation, Deanna was thanking her.

"Do you have any questions, Carrie?"

Thinking on this, she slowly shook her head. "No."

Their interview concluded, Deanna got to her feet and walked around to the video camera. "If you do, you know which door which door is mine. In the mean time though, I hope you don't mind," she continued, switching off the video camera. "But I'm going to need a short while to make arrangements for you. Part of the reason for our expansion is that we're short on accommodations."

"Of course," she said, understanding.

Smiling at her again, Deanna leant on the arm of the couch. "In the mean time though, I suspect you're highly deserving of a long, hot shower."

Unable to help herself, Carrie gave another short laugh. Covering her mouth, she looked at Deanna gratefully, and nodded. "Yes, please."

* * *

"Carl, come on," Rick began, fearing he would have to drag his son away from his friends. "Pete's waiting for us."

"Now?" Carl protested, balancing on his crutches and swinging his legs beneath himself. Ron and Mikey watched on in amusement, Carl's return with a major injury of great interest to them.

"Yes, now. And don't do that," he scolded, his heart leaping into his throat every time he fooled around on the crutches, fearing that he'd lose his balance and go crashing down onto the gunshot wound.

Reluctantly, Carl farewelled his friends and promised he'd be around to see them later, joining Rick as they headed for the infirmary. Nevertheless, it was a struggle to get very far, with many people gasping in sympathy when they saw Carl on crutches, everyone crowding in to get a better look, to ask him what had happened. Despite the fact that his group had brought everyone back safely, and despite the fact that they'd brought back far more supplies than initially thought, Rick could see the judgement in their eyes. He'd seen it the moment word got out that Carl, a mere child to them, was being allowed to go on the supply run. He'd seen it the first time he and Carl had gone to Olivia to get their weapons, the two of them taking a walk together outside the walls during their first week. While he knew these people didn't understand, and that they didn't know Carl, today, Rick couldn't blame them for their judgement. Allowing Carl to come with him was something he had agonised over, particularly so given that he'd nearly been killed by both a car accident and a gun shot.

Finally getting away, father and son slowly made their way up the street towards the infirmary, taking their time to look around and revel in the fact that they were home. The supply run had started off well enough, and despite the car accident that saw Carl injured, the journey down to the prison had been largely trouble free. It was the journey home that had taken forever, that had been marred by mechanical trouble, bad roads and even worse people. With shit coming at them almost every day, the idea that they would eventually be home felt like a lost hope, like something that would never really be attained. And now, here they were, safe and sound. Glancing back at the five vehicles and great crowd down by the gate, Rick couldn't believe that everyone who had left Alexandria had returned safely…he truly hadn't expected that.

Turning to Carl to share his happiness to be home, Rick frowned when he saw the look on his face, seeing he looked surprisingly unhappy. "What is it?" he asked.

"Nothing," he denied, shrugging.

Despite this, Rick watched him carefully, observing the way his eyes darted to the infirmary, and then away again. "Do you not want to see Pete?"

"I didn't say that," Carl shook his head.

"Then what's the problem?" he asked, coming to a stop and making Carl do the same.

There was an awkward pause now, Carl bracing himself before he spoke. "I just don't like him very much," he said apologetically. "That's all. I never said I didn't want to see him."

"Why don't you like him?"

"I just don't. I don't have to like everyone," he said defensively.

Figuring Carl didn't want to talk about it, Rick trusted him enough to let it go for now. But no sooner than they had set off towards the infirmary again, Carl sighed and began to elaborate.

"It's just…I heard him call Jessie a stupid bitch once, so I don't really like him," he said quietly, looking up to see his father's reaction. "You'd never say that to Mom."

"No, I wouldn't," he agreed, surprised by what Carl had told him. He hadn't figured Pete to be verbally abusive…then again, he barely knew the man. Dwelling on this, he figured perhaps he ought to know Pete a little better if Carl was constantly over at his house. "Let's just get your leg looked at."

Encountering only a few more Alexandrian's who wanted to gasp in astonishment at Carl's injury, they quickly made their way to the infirmary, heading straight inside when they found the door open. As Pete greeted them and pointed towards the main bed, Rick couldn't help but marvel at being inside a house that didn't stunk of dust and rotting corpses, somewhere with electricity and running water. Their first arrival in Alexandria had brought about the same reaction, but he supposed as he had grown used to simple luxuries again, he had forgotten to appreciate it.

"So take your jeans off, and lay down on your right side for me," Pete instructed before pulling the screen across. "There's a blanket there if you want. I'll be right back."

Carl kicked off his boots and jeans and then let Rick help him gingerly get up onto the high bed, turning onto his side as instructed. Though they had taken good care of the wounds, this was the first time Rick had taken a good look at Carl's injury recently, their group having been so busy and pressed for time since they left Franklin. The side of his thigh was still a little swollen and tender to touch, but from the outside both dressings looked clean.

Appearing around the screen, Pete turned on the large over head light and shone it on Carl's leg. "Do you know what type of bullet it was?"

"We figured it was a standard nine millimetre."

"It went through," Pete commented, snapping on a pair of gloves. "That's good. No chance to recover the bullet?"

"No."

"And you were in a car when it happened?" he asked, turning to Rick when Carl nodded. "Do you know when his last tetanus shot was?"

Trying to remember, Rick knew that Lori would have answered this question in an instant. "I think had a booster shot when he was ten or eleven," he managed to remember. "He stepped on some garden shears."

"Perfect. Carl, you tell me if I'm hurting you, alright," Pete began softly. Taking his time, he gently pulled back both of the dressings and looked at the wounds underneath. "They've scabbed over well…no puss, not too much redness. That's all good. Can you take me through the first aid?"

Recounting the memories he didn't want, Rick went through the blood transfusion they had given Carl, and the turn for the worse he had taken a few hours later. Despite everything that had happened with Carrie in Franklin, Rick remembered what Aidan had done for Carl, how he had known exactly what to do when he started going downhill. Looking at Carl now, Rick knew he should be a little more grateful for Aidan.

"What about antibiotics?" Pete enquired, gently pressing his fingers along either side of the bullet's path. He frowned, lowering his head and peering at it from another angle.

"These ones," Rick answered, taking the orange bottle from his pocket and showing Pete the label.

"Twice a day," Carl assured him. "I didn't miss any. Should I keep taking them?"

"Oh yeah," Pete chuckled. "You gobble these up like they're candy. Tell me about the pain right now."

"It's fine at the moment…except when you press on it."

"Sorry," he apologised, taking his hands away. "What about when you stand? Can you bear any weight on it?"

"Standing is fine, but it hurts when I try to walk on it."

"Out of ten, how much is the pain?"

"Ahhhh," Carl frowned, unsure. "Like, just…average?"

"Good, that's about what I expected," Pete nodded, peering at the wounds again. Being thorough, he picked up Carl's lower leg and started testing his range of movement very slowly, gauging the response he made with different motions. "You've probably got some lateral muscle damage along the path of the bullet. Until the swelling and pain settle down some more, I'm not going to know what further treatment you'll need."

"What treatment might he need?" Rick asked.

"His motion looks good, but if the muscle damage is affecting his ability to walk, he might need minor surgery." He turned to Carl now, explaining to him. "I'd give you some medication to make you go to sleep, and then I'd open you up and see if I need to manually repair the muscle damage."

"How much would that hurt?"

"A fair bit, although I suspect you've bought me some good supplies I can use for you. Besides, the sympathy your dad would give makes it all worth it."

Laughing, Carl looked at Rick in amusement.

"Also, there could be bullet fragments left inside the path of the injury. Without an X-Ray I won't be able to tell until the swelling goes down. The wound is fairly shallow though, so I'd like to see you again in another week so that I can take another look, maybe try to feel around for something. You've been using the crutches all the time?"

"Almost all the time," Carl said sheepishly, knowing he had caused his father much frustration by his impatience with them.

"Well I want you using them constantly. For this week at least, keep the weight off your leg as much as possible, we want the rest of the swelling to go down. If you get much pain, take some Tylenol and apply an ice pack. If that doesn't help, come and see me straight away."

"Okay."

"You'll need to take it easy," Pete warned him. "No work. I'm writing you a prescription for video games and TV."

Carl laughed again, looking rather cheerful at this. "Sounds great to me."

"Is there anything else you need me to take a look at?" Pete asked, applying new dressings to each wound. "You didn't bump your head or anything in the car accident?"

"No, but Dad did," Carl told him. Rick immediately grit his teeth, trying not to glare at Carl for this. But in true fashion, Carl was not done. "He got knocked out from it too. He was unconscious for a few minutes."

"Were you now?" Pete enquired, looking up at Rick.

"Yes," he admitted.

"He got knocked out a couple of months ago too…he was unconscious for over a day."

"Woah," Pete frowned, taken aback by this. But perhaps sensing Rick's reluctance to talk about it, he didn't press him too much. "I keep telling you to come in for that check up. You should bring in Judith too, she's due for a one year old check up. It's her birthday soon, right?"

"Three days," Carl smiled as he pulled his jeans on again, oblivious to Rick's annoyance.

"You should bring her in," Pete said again, pulling off his gloves and throwing them in the trash. "I saw her teeth the other day, the fourth one's finally broken through. They look good."

"I noticed." Rick forced himself to smile, not wanting to appear ungrateful for his assessment of Carl. "Thanks Pete…I'll make sure Carl has plenty of video games."

"Yeah, thanks Pete," Carl said gratefully, picking up his crutches.

"No problem. Come back on Sunday, and I'll put another dressing on for you."

Glad to be done with it, Rick and Carl left the infirmary with polite thanks, but as soon as the door closed behind them Rick noticed Carl's expression sour a little.

"What is it?" he asked.

"Nothing."

"Carl."

Carl sighed, carefully manoeuvring down the steps. "I don't want to sit around watching TV."

"I know," he sympathised, knowing Carl was itching to help unpack the supplies, to be actively doing something that contributed.

Wondering how Carrie was going with her interview, Rick and Carl started heading back to the main house, noting that everyone seemed to be heading back to their respective houses now that the fuss had died down. Walking past the lake, he returned Jessie's wave when he saw her there supervising the younger kids by the water. Glancing back at the infirmary, he thought about Pete's repeated request that he bring Judith to see him, and he wondered whether or not it was a good idea. Aside from the fact that he didn't want Pete enquiring about her potential blood type…he just didn't want Pete seeing her at all, despite how irrational this was.

"What is it?" Carl asked now, repeating Rick's earlier question.

Rick laughed in spite of himself, both pleased and annoyed by how perceptive Carl was. Looking at him, he gave him a reassuring smile. "You're not the only one who doesn't like Pete."

They returned home without further fuss, successfully managing to avoid being drawn into conversation with the few Alexandrian's who were still lingering down by the trucks. The majority of people had gone back to their homes now, Abraham having promised death for those who dared touch the supplies before he did. As they passed the intersection Rick looked down that way, reminding himself that he wanted to get the greenhouses back off the military truck. The plants and cuttings he had taken from the garden would need to be cared for before they could be transplanted here, although Rick wasn't entirely sure where he would be establishing the new gardens.

Although they had missed their family, Rick was glad to find that there was not a small reunion in progress when he and Carl got home. While Michonne showered and Carol fussed over Daryl, Rick gratefully picked up Judith and held her closely, entertaining her as he took another look at the new tooth that had broken through her top gum. Now that the fuss of the supply runners' return had died down, Judith quickly became rather grumpy from being prematurely awoken from her morning nap. Getting frustrated, she started to cry when she went to suck her thumb, only to bite herself. Comforting her, Rick simply curled up on the couch and let her go back to sleep for a short while, knowing it was what she needed. Her wailing turned into small sobs, which soon died down into the familiar soft breaths that he knew all too well. As if to tempt him to sleep even more, Judith sighed as she got comfortable, her fist clenching around the brown piece of fabric that had once been part of his tee-shirt. He hated that it had become her security blanket, that the item she took such comfort from was the shirt he had worn out on the road…he knew what it had been covered in. Thinking of the yellow blanket he got at Walmart on, he wondered how he was going to get her to swap to it instead.

With Judith warm and comfortable on his chest, Rick allowed himself to close his eyes for a short while. He was quite partial to kicking off his boots and taking a well deserved nap with his daughter, but he forced himself to push on a little while longer. Carrie was completing her interview with Deanna, and it had now been thirty minutes since he had left her company. Responsible for her, for more than her physical safety anyway, Rick wanted to make sure he was ready the moment Deanna came to him following the interview, knowing that's exactly what she would do. Having been the one who brought Carrie in, who had made the decision to save her in the first place, Deanna would want to consult with him over where she'd be accommodated.

Yawning, Rick struggled to keep his eyes open as he listened to Daryl, Carol and Michonne in the kitchen, the pulse of running water indicating that Carl was now taking a well deserved hot shower. Thinking on this, Rick was proud of his son, despite the regret he felt towards bringing him in the first place. Before leaving they had shaken hands on the agreement of their terms, and while he had occasionally toed the line, Carl's behaviour and work ethic on this supply run made him immensely proud. Chuckling to himself, he remembered that when they first left, they had assumed it would be Carl who needed baby sitting, not Aidan.

Just as he was slipping off to sleep, Carol's voice roused him. "Rick? Deanna's coming."

Only just remembering Judith was in his arms, Rick slowly sat up and hastily pretended he hadn't been asleep. His exhaustion was like a physical weight on his shoulders, something that wanted to pin him down to the couch and make him stay there. Forcing himself to his feet he joined the others in the kitchen and looked out the front windows, seeing Deanna almost at their porch.

"She just came from the other house," Carol told him, clearing her throat before putting on her most pleasant smile.

"Here goes," Daryl commented dryly, he and Michonne exchanging a glance.

Readjusting Judith in his arms, Rick opened the front door and met Deanna as she crossed the porch. Though he knew Carrie would have been welcomed with open arms, he couldn't help but feel nervous about Deanna's assessment of her, about where she would be living. So long as it wasn't in that shared house with Olivia, Carrie would be alright he thought. Though the shared townhouse was the logical accommodation, he didn't exactly imagine she'd have much in common with the people.

"Deanna," he greeted, stepping back and welcoming her in.

"Rick," she nodded, smiling as she looked at Judith in his arms. "We've got a Sleeping Beauty here…and another," she added, catching him trying to hide a yawn. "I heard you almost drove through the night. You must be exhausted, so I won't keep you long. Hello Daryl, Michonne. It's good to see you both again."

"I'm very glad to have them back," Carol smiled, pulling a large silver tray out of the freezer and placing it on the bench to defrost. "This house is too big with just Judy and I."

"I bet."

Having made enough small talk, Rick got straight to the point. "You've finished Carrie's interview?"

"Oh yes."

"And?"

Deanna gave a slow, but genuine smile. "She's remarkable," she told him proudly.

He was unsurprised by her astute observation, knowing Deanna would have formed her opinion of Carrie rather quickly. "Where is she now?"

"Taking what I suspect will be a long, hot shower in my guest bathroom. I've asked Maggie to go and wait for her while I'm here."

"Good," he said nonchalantly, pleased by this news. Before taking Carl to the infirmary, he'd made sure he had the chance to talk to Maggie, relieved to find that Glenn had already beaten him to it. Despite Maggie's clear disapproval for what they were asking her to do, she listened to his instructions carefully and then pocketed the tiny transmitter, promising only that she would try. Now would be the opportune time for her to plant the bug in Deanna's living room. It absolutely had to be planted before Aidan settled back into home and began telling his parents what had happened on the supply run, recounting his version of events.

"She's told me a great deal about herself. I like her…I think the feeling is mutual. At least I hope."

"That's good."

Deanna nodded in agreement, pausing before looking a little apologetic. "I hate to take you from your family again, but could I trouble you to talk privately?"

"Of course," he agreed, having hoped they would.

"And perhaps with you too, Carol."

"Me?" Carol asked in confusion.

"You run these two households. Nothing happens around here without you overseeing it."

Glancing at Carol, Rick wondered where Deanna was going with this. Curious, he thanked Daryl as he gently handed over Judith, who roused until Daryl gruffly started shushing her, patting her back until she settled again. Leaving her, Rick headed out onto the front porch, letting Carol fuss over offering pleasantries and refreshments.

"Thank you, Carol, but I really don't want to take much of your time," Deanna told her, the two of them following Rick out. "There's so much to do, and you all have so much to catch up on."

"What is it you need to talk about?" Rick asked, his arms folded as he leant against the porch railing. Remembering how much he towered over Deanna, he made himself take a seat when she and Carol did.

"Carrie's living arrangements," she replied, looking from Carol to him. "I couldn't help but notice she seems rather fond of you, Rick. You're name came up more than once."

He nodded as though this wasn't unexpected. "I saved her life, I would hope she's fond of me."

Deanna gave a low chuckle, her knowing smile making Rick wonder how much Carrie had told Deanna, how much she had given away without even knowing it. Deanna was annoyingly intuitive, and he wondered how much she had read into Carrie's apparent fondness of him.

Deanna got straight to the point. "I'd like for Carrie to come and live with you."

Rick raised his eyebrows. "With me?"

"With your family," Deanna clarified. "When I first saw Carrie, my initial thought was that she looked like a deer caught in the headlights."

Nodding in agreement, Rick remembered thinking that too.

"She can take care of herself, I have no doubt of that…but it would be unkind to have her live in the shared townhouse with people she doesn't know. Aaron and Eric would gladly put her up in their home, but let's face it, they're young and in love. They like their privacy. Unless you feel I should ask Tobin or Nicholas-"

"No," he said abruptly.

Deanna nodded, understanding. "Then that leaves your family as the people she knows. She trusts you."

Rick paused, letting Deanna's reasons sink in. The notion of accommodating Carrie in one of their two houses wasn't unwelcome, rather it was something he'd briefly considered, a thought briefly that crossed his mind on the journey home. Despite this, it hadn't been something he intended to suggest, not wanting to make Carrie feel as though she had to accept the offer. Glancing at Carol, he tried to gauge her opinion, annoyed to find that she was still wearing the pleasant smile that gave away nothing, even to him.

Seeing his frustration with her, Carol nodded plainly. "We can make room," she said.

"We're already packed to the rafters," he commented in return, not out of disagreement, but to see what Carol really thought.

Gauging their discussion, Deanna tactfully stood up. "Why don't I give you a moment to talk about this," she offered, heading inside. "I can catch up with Michonne."

As Deanna departed, Rick leant back in his chair and looked at Carol critically, surprised she had so quickly acquiesced to Deanna's request. Even when she was putting on her pleasant facade, it was unexpected for Carol to so quickly accept a person she didn't know to come and live in her home, to come and live with her family. He wondered what it was that she was thinking, a part of him having expected her to not warm to Carrie very quickly, to make her prove her worth and value.

"You're sleeping with her, aren't you."

He gave no perceptible reaction. "Why would you say that?"

"Because I can tell."

"Can you now," he muttered, shaking his head. "I'm not sleeping with her."

"Ah huh."

Glaring at her for a moment, he looked away in frustration, annoyed by her perceptiveness. Through the open window next door he could hear Abraham singing, a loud squeal indicating he and Rosita were showering together. The second house was already uncomfortably full with eight adults occupying four bedrooms, and while they were marginally more comfortable over here, accommodating Carrie would mean a slight reshuffle. He was willing to organise that for her, he wouldn't refuse her a roof over her head just because it was cramped, but he was surprised by Carol's eagerness to do the same, particularly given the astute observation that he was sleeping with her.

"It has no bearing on my opinion of her," Rick sighed, seeing that Carol was not going to let this go without getting his admission. "Alright?"

Carol snorted in derision. "So you formed your opinion before dropping your pants. Good to know."

"I didn't realise I needed your blessing," he said sharply, not liking her tone.

Though she didn't apologise, Carol eased up a little. "I take it Carl doesn't know."

"It's none of his business."

"Good." There was a short pause, the two of them looking at each other before Carol continued. "We can make room for her…unless you don't want her here."

Not wanting her to get the wrong impression, Rick quickly clarified. "If we can make room, then she should stay here. Deanna's right."

"It will be cramped for a little while," she commented. "But with the expansion we might be able to spread out a little in a few months."

As if on cue, someone came marching out onto the front porch, but rather than Deanna rejoining them, it was Daryl. His crossbow slung over his shoulder, he was lighting a cigarette as he walked past them. "I'm goin' hunting. Give Carrie my room."

Carol raised her eye brows at this. "And where will you sleep?"

"I'll take the attic," he said gruffly, leaving no room for argument. "I don't use the bedroom much anyway."

They watched him go in silence, Daryl never looking back as strolled up the street and turned the corner. There was another long pause, Rick starting to get an odd feeling about Daryl. He'd had the same feeling once or twice during the supply run, but he'd just put it down to stress and exhaustion.

"Is there something going on with Daryl?" he asked, suspecting that Carol would know if there was.

"No," Carol shook her head.

"He's not acting strange to you?"

"Not that I've noticed."

Still unable to shake the feeling in the pit of his stomach, Rick got to his feet and headed inside, telling Deanna that they'd made their decision. She seemed pleased with this, and he got the sense that she hadn't expected anything other than his agreement. Like Carol, he wondered if Deanna had an inkling that he and Carrie had slept together, if perhaps she had told her during the interview. It seemed out of character for Carrie, who had agreed they would keep this relationship to themselves, despite half their group managing to find out. Thinking about how obvious they sometimes were, Rick knew he was going to have to be even more subtle about it now, particularly given Carl's reaction to the mere possibility that they'd slept together.

"Thank you, Rick," Deanna said gratefully. "I expect Carrie will be quite happy here."

"When will she come by?" Carol asked. "I'll need to make her room up for her."

"I'll stop by to see Aaron and Eric first, then I'll need to take Carrie to the pantry. We'll get her some toiletries and another set of clothing for now. I think maybe about an hour."

"We'll see her then," Carol smiled, thanking Deanna as she left.

Bemused by the unexpected turn of events, Rick and Carol stood side by side on the front porch as they watched Deanna leave. Feeling peaceful and happy to be back, Rick took enjoyment from the familiar sounds, still adjusting to the fact that he didn't need to be on constant alert right now. He instincts kept telling him that something was wrong, that he was being complacent, and he knew it was going to take a while for him to settle and relax a fraction.

"How was the prison?" Carol asked, sounding sad that she couldn't go too.

"Empty," he said shortly, not know how else to describe it. "Is that a lasagne you pulled out of the freezer?"

Carol nodded, managing a smile. "Yes. It was for your birthday."

"Thank you."

"Did Carl give you the card?"

"He did. It's in my duty belt," he said his hand drifting to the pouch that held the birthday card with his children's hand prints. "You were behind that, weren't you."

"Who else?"

Nodding, Rick smiled before remembering something he had noticed. "Someone cut Judith's hair," he accused.

To his amusement, Carol seemed apologetic. "I had to. It was getting in her eyes."

He sighed, feeling guilty to have missed nearly three weeks of her life. Not only had she had a hair cut, she'd broken her fourth tooth and was practically walking. It was a lot to take in…a lot he had missed.

"Oh come on…Tara wanted to soften the blow to you by piercing her ears."

Rick's face fell. "No."

Laughing for a moment, Carol gave a long sigh. "Coffee?"

"Please."

She patted him on the arm as she headed back inside. "It's good to have you all home."

Standing on the porch and looking out across Alexandria, he thought back to the prison, remembering the difficulty of leaving that behind. It had been their home for so long, and he was glad to have had closure on that chapter of their lives. Enjoying the familiarity of his new home, Rick agreed with Carol.

It was good to be home.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N Welcome to chapter 2! Remember to jump over to Walking Dead Fan Fiction . com to check out this story that also features character pictures and profiles (which gives little sneak peaks for what is to come). To answer a reviewer's question, I generally try to post a chapter a week, typically on the weekend. Sometimes I have trouble uploading to this website, so if it gets to the end of the week and there's no new chapter, try checking AO3 or Walking Dead Fan Fiction . com

Thanks for all the reviews, it's so great seeing so many new readers reviewing, and to see reviewers from the previous story too :-)

* * *

With her interview concluded, Carrie relished the prospect of what Deanna had offered her, the gratuitous chance to take a hot shower without delay. Everything had gone well in the interview, and now that it was over she could breathe a sigh of relief, knowing that it wasn't nearly as bad as she had thought it might be. She had always been assured that Deanna would welcome her to Alexandria, that the nod of approval from Aaron and Rick was the only endorsement she needed, but she had still been apprehensive. Throughout the surprisingly short interview, she had come to realise that she actually liked Deanna, whose warm and welcoming personality almost immediately put her at ease.

With the foresight to know she would need it, Deanna had already arranged for Carrie's pack to be brought from the car for her. Putting it over her shoulder, she looked around the townhouse as Deanna led her towards the stairs, and she marvelled over the simple luxuries that they must take for granted. It was warm and dry in here, the electricity worked…water flowed from the taps on demand. Though she had known all of these luxuries existed in Alexandria, and they they would be hers for the taking, it was still a difficult notion for Carrie to wrap her head around. Still unsure of what to make of it, she looked forward to the moment when she closed the bathroom door and found solitude. She was comfortable in Deanna's company, but she longed for some privacy, for the ability to put her head into her hands for a few moments and close her eyes.

"There are toiletries and towels in the cupboard," Deanna told her, showing her through the basement level. "Take as much as you'd like, and just put your towel in the hamper."

Looking around, Carrie took note that one end of the basement seemed to be a living area or games room, while the other on first glance must be an office. There was a desk covered in papers, a large whiteboard with notes and what looked like an outline of the community. The two rooms on opposite ends of the basement were divided by the bathroom Deanna was showing her to.

"Take your time, there's no need to worry about the water. When you're finished, come on upstairs. If I'm not here, make yourself at home. Eat, drink," she implored, and Carrie knew she meant it.

"I will. Thank you."

Carrie smiled and nodded, saying and doing all the right things until Deanna finally ascended the stairs and left her alone. Surprised by how readily the leader of this community trusted a stranger to be left alone in her home, she tentatively entered the bathroom and closed the door, breathing a sigh of relief when she locked it behind herself. Somewhat at a loss for what to do now, she spent longer than necessary looking at the door handle, wondering how to proceed next. Putting her pack down on the floor, she slowly turned and looked around the bathroom, surprised by how nice it was. All of the houses here seemed to be nicely decorated and well maintained, and it was startlingly different to the houses she knew were outside the walls. This bathroom was clean and fresh, the wide basement window admitting natural light through the frosted glass…it was a contrast to the bathrooms she had seen in abandoned houses. They were typically musty and smelled faintly of putrid water, that was if they didn't smell like Walkers.

Running her hand over the marble counter, she looked into the mirror, grimacing at the face that was looking back at her. Just like she had a few days ago in the real estate office, she took the time to critique her appearance, and she was glad Deanna must be used to seeing people in various states. Her neck and upper chest were still covered in red blood smears from the Walker she had killed that morning, and overall she looked rather unkempt. As she critiqued herself, she was pleased to note that the bruises on her neck and clavicle had changed colour and shape, and could now be attributed to injuries from her night in Franklin, not from Rick giving her hickeys. Touching them, she smiled as those memories came back to her. She couldn't help but wonder when she was going to see him next, if she might find him down at the trucks that afternoon. That morning he'd mentioned wanting to get the plants off the back of the military truck, needing to tend to them after their long journey from the prison in their little greenhouse. Though they'd be living separate lives in separate houses, she hoped she'd be able to see him again soon, that she'd be able to see all of the group from the supply run. To her, they were more than her friends, that they were most definitely her safety net.

Glancing at the shower cubicle, which awaited her patiently, Carrie opened up the bathroom cabinet and helped herself as Deanna had requested. The shampoo and conditioner bottles in there had been used before, and she wondered who else had arrived here in Alexandria, had their interview and then cleaned themselves up in this bathroom. Pleased to find a new loofah still in its packaging, she took advantage of everything she could use, dumping it all on the floor of the shower cubicle before excitedly turning it on. Just as everyone had promised her, the first stream of water was warm, and it rushed through her fingers and ran down her forearm as it grew warmer. Not wasting a second more, she hastily undressed, tossed her clothes aside and then stepped inside. Barely holding back her cry of joy, she adjusted the temperature until it was comfortable, groaning in relief as she began enjoying the warmth. Happiness welled up in her chest, bursting out of her in a joyful laugh as the water beat down against her body. For the longest moment she simply stood there and enjoyed the feeling of warm, clean water rushing over her body, watching as it swirled around her feet and disappeared down the drain.

It seemed so normal.

Eagerly getting to work, she lathered up her hair with shampoo and massaged her scalp, mindful of the cut that was still sore. She had washed her hair at the prison and the underground bunker, but the warm, quick flowing water made it all the better this time, letting her feel as though she actually was getting it clean. Her fingers working over her scalp felt incredible, the sensation only improving as she washed the suds out and felt how clean and smooth her hair was now. Letting the hot water beat down against her shoulders she smoothed some conditioner through her hair and twisted it into a bun at the base of her neck, leaving it to work while she attended to other things.

Adjusting the direction of the shower head, she sat down and applied some shaving cream to her legs, enjoying yet another luxury and she shaved her legs again. She couldn't help the stupid grin that was plastered over her face right now…she didn't want to help it either. She hadn't been able to care for her body like this since before the outbreak, and she took the chance the moment it was presented to her, knowing never to forgo the opportunity. Enjoying the sensation of her smooth legs, she flinched as she aggravated the large bruises on her shin. It was a little painful to walk on, a frustrating reminder of when she had fallen over the edge of a fountain that night in Franklin.

Revelling in every moment, Carrie made sure to scrub every inch of her body, washing away as much evidence as the world outside as she could. It was a cathartic feeling, every swipe of the loofah across her skin ridding her of the life she was leaving behind, although not forever. Inside these walls she would be safe, but the outside could not be forgotten. It would remain out there no matter how comfortable life inside the walls was…it could not be ignored. With this in mind, Carrie slowly got back to her feet and reached her arms high above her head, feeling her muscles stretching and benefitting from the hot water that pounded down on them. Removing her hair from the bun at the base of her neck, she ran her fingers through it and washed out the conditioner.

Standing underneath the water a little longer, she stopped thinking so much, letting her mind wander instead. Not surprisingly, she felt amazingly content right now, even though she could feel a hint of sadness building in the pit of her stomach. Some of the things that had come up in her interview had been difficult to discuss, none more so than Shannon. Carrie wished for many things these days, but none more so than her, the young girl's death having hit her particularly hard. Given where she was today, and that her main task had once been getting Shannon through each and every day, and knew it was guilt that grew in the back of her mind. Shannon deserved to be here too.

Feeling her emotions start to turn for the worse, Carrie hastily shook herself out of it, not wanting that to be how she spent her first day in Alexandria. Enjoying the last few minutes of the shower, she turned off the water and then wrung out her long hair, smiling again as she marvelled over how clean it was. When she stepped out of the shower and wrapped her hair in a towel, she smiled at her reflection in the mirror, seeing a significant improvement over the woman she had looked at before. She dried herself off and began to redress in the last of her clean clothing. In their haste to pack and get moving, the workout gear and shoes she had taken from Walmart had gone astray.

Dressing in her yoga pants, she was annoyed to find that she had no clean bras left, and though she normally would just put on her old one, she couldn't bear the thought of that today. It was rather smelly by now, and the thought of putting it on when she was finally clean wasn't exactly pleasant. Instead she chose to simply go without it, glad that her last clean shirt was a dark blue tank top. She doubted anyone would care, let alone notice that she wasn't wearing a bra. Thankful she at least had clean socks, she pulled them and her boots back on before roughly towel drying her hair and combing it. Peering at it critically, she looked at the section she had been forced to hack off a few months ago, having been unable to wash out the Walker guts that had dried into a clump. Rick had noticed it the first time they'd slept together, having been running his fingers through her hair. Looking at it now, Carrie hoped to run into the resident named Jessie sooner or later, having heard she enjoyed cutting hair for newcomers.

Stuffing her dirty clothing into her pack, she organised her weapons and put them in too, having no way of carrying them while wearing yoga pants. She wouldn't need them inside the walls, already knowing Deanna didn't like the residents being armed, but they were close at hand for now, and that's all the reassurance she needed. Bracing herself, she put her used towels into the hamper and then slung her pack over her shoulder. Exiting the bathroom, she resisted the temptation to take a look around the basement level and instead went straight upstairs as instructed. All was quiet, but she could sense the presence of another person, and so she knew Deanna was still there. Depositing her pack by the front door, she headed off in search of Deanna, nervous for what would happen next, for where she'd be taken to live. There had been a lot of people welcoming them there that day, and the community itself was much larger than she had anticipated.

"Deanna?" she called out, unsure of where she was.

There was a small squeak of surprise, and a moment later someone appeared out of no where in the dining room. Visibly flustered, a women with shoulder length brown hair looked at Carrie in alarm, and for a moment she wondered if she had somehow wandered into the wrong house. There was a moment of awkward tension before the woman gave an embarrassed laugh, and what seemed like a genuine smile followed it.

"Hi," the woman greeted her with a friendly smile, her accent similar to Rick's. "You're Carrie, right?"

"Yes," she nodded, slowly entering the dining room. Looking at the woman, she took an educated guess as to her identity. "You're Maggie? Glenn's wife?"

"Yes," she smiled. There was an awkward moment, the two of them suddenly realising Maggie was holding a screw driver in her hand. She gestured back to a power outlet, looking a little flustered. "It wasn't working," she said quickly, pocketing the screw driver. "I was just fixing the wires."

Unsure of why Maggie was explaining herself, Carrie just nodded and smiled. "It's nice to meet you," she said honestly. "Glenn's told me a lot about you. Actually, everyone has."

Relaxing a little, Maggie returned her smile, nodding. "I've heard about you too," she said. There was a short pause now, Maggie looking a little uncertain. "Deanna asked me to wait with you…she also mentioned force feeding you if necessary."

Laughing, Carrie followed as Maggie ushered her into the kitchen. "She's very…caring."

"She is," Maggie agreed. "So, what would you like to eat? We've got a fresh loaf of bread, I could make us some sandwiches."

"That would be great, thank you."

Looking at her with a wry smile, Maggie took a fresh loaf of bread from a metal canister and laid it out on a cutting board. "You've been out there like I was," she began, gesturing in the direction of the walls. "I bet you'd eat anything I served up."

"Yes."

"Why don't you make us some drinks?" Maggie suggested, seeing she was lingering uncertainly, feeling ill at ease. Picking up a bread knife, she indicated to the kettle which was beginning to boil. "Rosita tells me you like green tea."

Nodding, Carrie was grateful for something to do, not used to allowing a stranger to fuss over her needs. She remembered her first night with the group, how Rosita and Michonne had fussed over her, bringing her food and making sure she was warm enough. It had been strange then and it was strange now, although not unwelcome.

"What tea would you like?" she enquired, seeing a wide selection in a wooden display box.

"The one with ginger, please. Not too strong."

"Oh, I have your coat, by the way," Carrie suddenly remembered. "Glenn leant it to me at the prison. I'll…I'll wash it before I give it back," she continued, starting to ramble. "It's kind of covered in…well, you know."

Maggie just smiled, glancing at her over her shoulder. "Did it keep you warm? Dry?"

"Yes," she nodded gratefully. "Thank you. I'll-"

"You keep it. If it kept you warm and dry, then it's yours."

"Thank you," she said gratefully, ignoring the urge to insist Maggie take it back, not wanting to have commandeered her belongings.

"You're welcome. Besides, I think it will be too small for me."

There was silence as the two women worked, but to Carrie's surprise it was perfectly comfortable, despite the fact that they were strangers. Completely at ease in Deanna's kitchen, Maggie whizzed around and gathered some filling for their sandwiches, stopping only to pick a stray baby toy she found abandoned in the corner. Putting it into a brown satchel that sat on the kitchen bench, Maggie began slicing some tomato and laying them out across the sandwiches.

"Do you know where I'll be living?" Carrie enquired, both to make conversation and to satisfy her curiosity.

Maggie smiled, thanking her when she put her mug of tea on the bench. "I have my suspicions," she said coyly. "It's…a shared house."

Carrie had suspected as much, though the notion was intimidating. "What are the people like?"

"Oh, I could tell you stories…I think you'll like them," she assured her, cutting the sandwiches and putting them onto some plates. "Let's eat outside?"

Thanking her, Carrie took her plate and mug and followed Maggie out onto the terrace, enjoying the fresh air and sun on her face. They sat down at the table and ate in comfortable silence, even though Carrie was tempted to interrogate poor Maggie about the people she might be living with, about what life was like here in Alexandria. Now that the interview was over and she was about to join her new household, she couldn't wait to get settled in as quickly as possible, presently feeling like she was in a state of limbo. The sandwich Maggie had made was delicious, the soft bread filled with fresh food that had to have come from the small garden Rick had told her about. Complimenting it, Carrie gave in to the urge to ask questions about Alexandria, though she tried not to hammer Maggie with them.

"There'll be a party soon" Maggie warned her a short while later, giving her a sympathetic smile. "For you, for the supply runners."

"When?" she asked, feeling apprehensive.

"Maybe the day after tomorrow, or perhaps even Monday. That would coincide with Judith's birthday, but I don't think Rick would mind."

"You sound worried about this party."

Maggie just shrugged. "It can be overwhelming…Deanna threw one for us when we arrived here. But the focus won't just be on you. By then, we'll have unpacked the supplies, taken inventory…from the look of it you brought back a lot."

"Yeah, they did."

"You all did," Maggie corrected her, emphasising Carrie's involvement. "From what I hear, you weren't dead weight."

"Thanks," she muttered, knowing it had certainly felt that way sometimes.

Twenty minutes passed in pleasant company, Carrie and Maggie finishing their food and then sitting back, enjoying the opportunity to get to know one another, even if only superficially. Although comfortable and at ease, Carrie was relieved when Deanna returned, also in the company of Aidan and the rest of her family. Introducing her to Spencer, Deanna was pleased to see that Carrie had eaten.

"No force feeding required," Maggie assured her.

"Good," Deanna said, sounding like she truly meant it. "Well, Carrie. Why don't you and I make a visit to the Pantry and grab you a few things, and then I'll introduce you to your new house mates."

"That sounds nice, thank you."

Standing up, Carrie went to clear the plates, but Maggie swiftly beat her to it batting her hands away. "Deanna, is it the house I think it is?" Maggie enquired, stacking their plates and mugs.

"Of course," Deanna nodded, winking at her.

Her apprehension growing a little, Carrie thanked Maggie before grabbing her pack and following Deanna. Politely farewelling Aidan and Spencer, who were presently arguing about who was going to do Aidan's laundry, she headed out onto the street. From here she could take another look at the imposing walls, observing the church steeple she had seen earlier. It was a short walk to the pantry two houses down, but it was enough time for Carrie to once again enjoy the peaceful nature of Alexandria. They met Olivia on the front steps, and though she had a kind and welcoming face, Carrie couldn't help but feel ill at ease, as though Olivia was scrutinising her at first.

"Your weapons must be in your bag?" Deanna enquired after making the introductions.

"Yes," she admitted, though she was reluctant for Deanna to take them away from her. Though she knew she was safe here, a part of her was still on full alert, her eyes scanning her surroundings, making sure she was safe.

"I've already spoken to Abraham," Olivia told them. "He'll send people over in groups to return their weapons throughout the afternoon. Aidan already turned his in."

"Good," Deanna nodded, looking to Carrie. "Hang onto yours for now, Abraham can sort you out later. For now, let's get you everything you'll need. Olivia?"

"Come this way," Olivia eagerly ushered her downstairs to the basement level, fixing a piece of lined paper onto her clipboard and writing at the top. "Can you spell your last name for me?"

Spelling it for her, Carrie followed her down the hallway, glancing up at the chalkboard filled with neat writing. As she stepped into what must be the garage, her eyes widened as she looked at the array of shelving and the items on display, immediately feeling overwhelmed by it all. It reminded her of the stockpile in the basement of the couponer's house, and the one at the underground bunker just outside of Franklin. Everything was nearly organised and arranged according to type. Yet as she took a step inside and looked around properly, she noticed that the supplies were not as vast as she first thought, that although the shelves were populated with a variety of items, they were not full.

There wasn't as much as one would like to keep a community the size of Alexandria sustained. They definitely needed what had been retrieved on the supply run, what had been brought back from the prison. Her eyes cast over the shelves of tinned and pickled good, she felt a flicker of annoyance, remembering Rick's comment about how small the vegetable garden was. If Rick's group hadn't arrived and agreed to help manage the supply run, what would these people have done? Would Aidan and Nicholas simply kept trying to find supplies in the immediate area? Having taken in the size of Alexandria and the reported size of the vegetable garden, she couldn't help but feel annoyed with them already. It seemed their future planning left a little to be desired.

"Here, let's get you started off," Olivia said kindly, handing Carrie an actual shopping basket and showing her where to start. "Toothbrush, toothpaste. There's floss if you want it, mouthwash too. Then you've got your shampoo and conditioner, face wash, moisturising cream, razors, nail files, Q tips, Kleenex…"

Struggling to take it all in, Carrie slowly started filling the basket at Olivia's encouragement, who seemed to have no comprehension how luxurious these items were. With each item that went into her basket, Carrie knew it should have gotten easier for her, but it didn't. The more she tried, the harder the choices became to make…did she want green apple shampoo, or strawberry? Did it even matter?

"Here," Olivia said kindly, picking up on her struggle to make a decision. She took the green apple shampoo and conditioner and placed it into her basket for her. "The green apple is nicer. Do you want floss? The Oral B tastes like feet, I'd go with the Colgate."

Letting Olivia help her, Carrie filled her basket with toiletries, even accepting a pack of tampons she hadn't needed for months now. Deanna waited patiently for her out on the street, and when Carrie followed Olivia upstairs to look at clothing, she could see her talking to various residents, laughing as her hands wildly gestured.

"I'll put these things into a bag for you," Olivia offered, handing Carrie a large cloth bag for her to use. "Take at least ten bras, underwear and socks. Then you've got jeans, sweats, skirts, shorts, tee-shirts, dresses, blouses…take some of everything."

This task was even harder for her to comprehend than the toiletries. This level of the townhouse was stocked with an enormous range of clothing, some of it arranged on clothing racks, some of it stuffed into large boxes or storage tubs. Unsure of where to start, she slowly looked through the racks of clothing, choosing her first item at Olivia's repeated encouragement. Struggling to find something to fit her frame, she had to settle for clothing that was slightly too big, knowing she would continue gaining weight just as she had for the last three weeks. When Olivia finished packing up her toiletries she came over and helped, her assistance speeding up the process.

As the bag began to fill and the list on the clipboard grew, Carrie felt strange to be looking at everything she was taking, at the clothing which was now hers. Though Olivia was nothing but friendly and generous, Carrie wished she were alone again, that she could have a little solitude to process all of this. Being totally honest with herself, she knew it was the prospect of meeting her new housemates that she dreaded, not wanting to have to make small talk with people she didn't know, with people who didn't understand what it was like outside the walls. Not for the first time since leaving the supply run group, she wished she was back in their company, that Michonne hadn't believed her when she said she'd be alright.

"Oh, Unicorn," Olivia smiled, gesturing to the image embroidered on the back pocket of the sweatpants Carrie had chosen. "Nice choice."

Carrie just smiled…they were the only sweats that had a chance of fitting her. Giving Olivia a moment to double check the list of items Carrie was taking, she looked around and then started making some small talk. "So you run this place?"

"Yeah," Olivia said proudly. "Everyone helps out, but this is my domain. Do you know how to use a spreadsheet?"

"A spreadsheet?" she questioned. Though she knew what she referred to, the concept of it felt foreign. "Like on a computer?

"Yeah," Olivia nodded. "It would be nice to have a computerised version of the inventory, but I can never get it just right. I always screw things up, and then I try to make a chart from the data and it just…ugh."

"I err…I've used a spreadsheet or two." She'd used thousands throughout her career…she knew the program like the back of her hand.

"Great. I hope you don't mind, but in that case I'm calling dibs on you helping in the pantry."

Carrie laughed at this, amused by Olivia's relief and her eagerness for assistance. "Thanks, Olivia…for all this."

"No problem. I can't wait to get my hands on whatever you've got in those trucks," she winked. "But Abraham wants to co-ordinate the unpacking."

"Sounds like him," Carrie agreed, collecting both her bags and following Olivia downstairs.

"Is there anything else you need?" Olivia asked in concern. "Anything at all."

"No," she said immediately, already feeling like she'd taken more than she needed. "Thank you."

Encouraging her to come by for anything at all, Olivia walked her back out onto the street where Deanna was waiting for her. Just as before, Deanna was talking to some other residents, and Carrie braced herself for the inevitable small talk, for the introductions. But to her great relief, Deanna quickly made her farewells and returned to her, leaving the others to observe her at a distance.

"We can do introductions once you're settled in," Deanna assured her. "For now, let's just get you home."

Fussing and making sure that Olivia gave her everything she needed, Deanna insisted on taking one of her bags for her. Slinging her pack over her shoulder and carrying her bag full of clothing, she let Deanna lead the way up the street, the two of them making a left turn at the end.

"That there is the infirmary," Deanna told her, pointing to a white house that overlooked the lake. "I encourage you to go and see Pete in the next few days, especially with that bruise on your leg. And this house is where Aaron lives with his partner Eric. I think you'll like Eric, he's even sweeter than Aaron."

Though she listened attentively as Deanna pointed out a few houses to her, Carrie glanced down at the five vehicles that had become her home for two and a half weeks now. Though the crowd had dissipated, quite a few people still hung around, and she caught sight of Abraham and Tobin standing in the back of the military truck, clearing a path so they could get the greenhouses down. Nervous about the house mates she was about to meet, for a moment Carrie wished they were still out on the road, but she quickly shook this thought from her head. Though it was harder than she expected, even having only been in Alexandria for a little over an hour, ungratefulness would not benefit anyone.

"Jessie and Pete live here," Deanna continued, indicating to the house on their right. "Jessie is our resident stylist, she'd love to give you a hair cut any time you'd like one."

"That would be nice," she admitted, her hair whipping across her face with a sharp gust of wind.

Looking ahead of her, she saw that the road curved to the left and ended, and beyond that were more walls. It was a comfort to see them again, and her eyes had unconsciously been scanning her surroundings for them ever since she stepped foot outside from the Pantry. There were two more houses after Jessie's, and her heart sped up a little, knowing her new home had to be one of these. Putting on her most confident facade, she kept her face calm and impassive as Deanna led her past the middle house and towards the last, number one hundred and one. Like all the others here in Alexandria, it was both beautiful and imposing, though not on the obnoxious way her childhood home had been. On the facade it seemed homely much in the way Deanna's had…there was a comfortable seating area on the porch, and a set of children's blocks had been left on the coffee table.

"I suspect you'll like your room mates," Deanna assured her, knocking on the front door even though it was wide open. "You already have a lot in common with them."

"Thank you," she said once again, hoping Deanna understood how much she meant it. "Really, I - Michonne?"

It was none other than Michonne who came to the front door, and Carrie hadn't been this glad to see a familiar face since the night she got lost in Franklin. She stared at her open mouthed for a long moment, both shocked and elated as it clicked that Michonne was one of her room mates.

"Hey," Michonne greeted her nonchalantly, waving at her to come inside. "Good timing, I just put on a pot of coffee. It's the nice stuff too, I know you don't like instant."

Shocked, Carrie slowly followed her inside the house, her hands tightly gripping her bag as she looked around. It had never occurred to her that she might share with a person that she knew. She had got the impression that Rick and his group all lived together, that they all…as realisation began to dawn on her, she turned back to Michonne.

"Who else lives here?" she enquired breathlessly, beginning to look around properly. As Deanna's was, the house was comfortably furnished and decorated, but Carrie was looking beyond the surface. She took note of a plastic tub full of baby toys, a pacifier left abandoned on the couch…was this where Rick and Carl lived too?

Michonne just looked to Deanna. "Didn't you tell her?" she asked, getting mugs out of a cupboard.

"No," Deanna replied. "I thought she might enjoy the surprise. No coffee for me, thank you."

"Surprise?"

Smiling at her warmly, Deanna put down the bag she had been carrying for her. "We thought you'd settle in a little better if you were with people you know and trust."

Filled with sheer relief, she looked to Michonne as a heavy weight was lifted off her shoulders. "Everyone lives here?"

Michonne nodded, smiling at her. "We're spread out between this house, and the one next door."

"I do hope this is alright, Carrie?" Deanna asked, though judging by her expression she knew it was.

Unsure of exactly how to express her relief, Carrie kept it simple. "Yeah, it is…thank you."

"You're most welcome," she replied sincerely, looking to Michonne. "You'll help her settle in?"

"Of course. I'll take it from here."

"You know where to find me," Deanna said to Carrie, farewelling her as she began to leave. "I'll see you later."

"Bye," she said softly, still feeling like she was in a state of shock.

She watched Deanna leave and then turned back to Michonne, barely able to contain her smile. Seeing the look on her face, Michonne gave a hearty chuckle and then came over. "You okay?" she asked, a light tease in her voice. "You going to pass out?"

"I don't know," she laughed breathlessly, still trying to comprehend the relief. "Maybe."

"You must be relieved," Michonne suggested, taking Carrie by surprise and embracing her. "I know I am."

"You are?"

Michonne nodded, letting her go and then peering into the bags she had brought with her. "The thought of you being sent to live with people you didn't know…didn't sit well with any of us."

At the latter remark, Carrie couldn't help but wonder if that included Rick, if he had ever anticipated the idea that she might be living with him, with his children. "I'm relieved," she said honestly, the knowledge that she didn't have to make small talk and live with people who didn't understand her growing with each passing moment.

"How was your interview?"

"Good," she answered, beginning to look around at her newfound home. "Everything went fine, I…we talked. Deanna seems…welcoming."

"Did she give you a job?"

Carrie paused, casting her mind back to the conversation. "No, not really…sort of. I think she said she'd have me doing lots of things. Supply runs, helping out at the school, taking watch…that sort of thing."

"That alright with you?"

Honestly speaking, Carrie had no idea, having not been able to think about it all that much. "I guess so, yeah. I don't want to be-"

"Oh, God. Here they come," Michonne cut her off, hastily swooping down and picking up her bags. "Sorry, but, let's get your stuff upstairs. They mean well, but you should get settled before you have to deal with introductions."

Looking out the window, Carrie's stomach twisted as she saw people coming down the street towards the house. Following Michonne's lead, she grabbed her things and followed her towards the staircase and began ascending.

"That's the main bedroom," Michonne said as they reached the first floor. Keeping her voice low, she indicated to a set of double doors directly opposite the mouth of the staircase. "Rick, Carl and Judith have to share. Then on the right here is Carol's room, then mine, and Daryl's just claimed the attic. Everyone else live at the house beside us. This is your room up at the front."

Following her down the hallway, Carrie took note that while everything else was open, the double doors were closed. Given the way Michonne lowered her voice a little, she wondered if perhaps Judith was in there sleeping, simultaneously wondering where everyone else was. Following Michonne to the end of the hallway, Carrie slowly entered what would be her new bedroom, a space that was purely her own.

The bedroom was at the front of the house, overlooking a great deal of the community. Through the four windows Carrie could see the surroundings houses, the lake and the empty field across from them, but it was the walls she looked to first. From here she could see them, and though they weren't exactly appealing to the eye, they represented both her safety, and her confinement…she hadn't seen it like that until now. Feeling Michonne watching her, Carrie looked around the bedroom itself, finding that although it was sparsely decorated, it had the same welcoming qualities of the rest of the house. There was a double bed with a thick comforter and two nightstands either side, and in the corner was a tall built in wardrobe and laundry basket.

"You alright?" Michonne asked, sensitive to how out of place Carrie felt.

"Yeah," she said honestly.

Taking it all in, she ran her hand over the light yellow comforter, liking how soft the linen felt. She looked up as Michonne opened another door, revealing a small bathroom that was entirely Carrie's own. In a perpetual state of disbelief, she put her pack and bag of new clothing on the floor as she looked around, trying to comprehend it all. Observing the space that she would now call her own, she tried to feel excited about it, she tried to feel grateful…but all she felt was a growing sense of being overwhelmed. A few moments passed, and it was only the sound of voices from downstairs that roused her from her thoughts.

Michonne sighed. "I'd better hold them off before they try to come up here," she apologised. "Take your time, okay? You don't have to come down if you don't want to."

"Thanks," she said quietly, taking a deep breath as she looked back to Michonne. "Really, thank you."

Understanding, Michonne just nodded and slowly departed. "A word of advice for living here?" she began, reappearing in the doorway. "Don't be frightened if you find a pig eating out of our refrigerator, or scratching his balls on the couch. That's Eugene."

A burst of laughter escaped her lips, the humorous comment helping to lift her spirits. "I'll keep that in mind. Thanks."

Winking at her, Michonne left her to it and headed back downstairs. Carrie listened to her bare feet on the wooden floor as she went, and following her lead, she removed her boots and socks. Though the laundry basket was clearly there for her to use, she laid her socks out across her boots, the idea of putting anything aside to be washed feeling preposterous. Feeling the soft carpet beneath her toes, she wandered about her new bedroom, trying to wrap her head around the notion that it was hers. Her mind was still reeling with relief, a weight having been lifted off her shoulders now that she knew who she was living with. It was kind of them to let her live there alongside them, to let her live with people that she already knew and trusted. The idea of having to live with complete strangers made her feel sick to the stomach with anxiety, but she had been determined to make the best of it either way. Now though, she knew she ought to be relaxing.

That was easier said than done though. Standing in the centre of her new bedroom, one that Daryl had given up for her to use, she still felt completely out of place, like this was all a joke and soon enough someone was going to give her a reality check. Surely someone was going to come in and tell her the truth, to laugh at the way in which she had believed everything about this place. Even though it was right here in front of her, none of it felt real quite yet.

Trying to orient herself, she sat down on the edge of the bed, wishing that the feeling of being at home was instantaneous. But like everything else good in this world, she was going to have to work for it. It wouldn't take long, she reassured herself. She knew these people…they were the exact same people she had been wishing had accompanied her to her interview with Deanna, Michonne in particular. And then there was Rick, although that left room for complications. They'd slept together a couple of times, they'd been fooling around and stealing kisses in dark corridors…furthermore, she knew the lengths he had gone to in order to save her that night in Franklin. Would things change now that they were living together?

Certainly some things would have to be different. They weren't on the supply run anymore, and so they'd be spending less time together. Between Rick's responsibilities of his children, his group, managing the walls and security and then the gardens, she expected that he would be very busy. On that note as well, Carrie anticipated much the same thing for her, if Deanna's assessment of her role in the community was any indication. Slumping down onto the bed, Carrie looked up at the ceiling as she talked herself through her thoughts, trying to organise them sufficiently. Now that they were home, things would be different with Rick. Despite essentially agreeing to a friends with benefits relationship, things could change, particularly now he was resuming normal life with two children who had lost their mother.

Realising that she was on the verge of talking herself out of what she and Rick had agreed on, Carrie forced herself to her feet to seek Michonne's company, to face the inevitable introductions. Leaving her new bedroom behind, she crept down the hallway as she glanced at the double doors that lead to the main bedroom. Not wanting to wake anyone who was sleeping, Carrie kept her footsteps light as she passed the doors, but she didn't make it far. She mentally braced herself at the top of the stairs, able to hear voices she didn't recognise.

She could hear people whispering, and she could tell they were talking about her. The moment she set foot on the first stair she heard their whispers escalate before quickly dying down, one person telling the other to shush. Mentally cringing, Carrie summoned her bravery and forced herself to go downstairs. With each step she felt dread building, but she knew that Michonne would be there too, that any visiting Alexandrians wouldn't get the chance to overwhelm her. As she reached the halfway landing and looked down towards the kitchen and living areas, she breathed a mental sigh of relief. There were only two people there, and while they were clearly waiting for her to come down, she found she didn't mind once she saw them. She thought she might recognise them, the others having described them to her.

"Hey," she greeted them, hiding her nerves behind a smile. "I'm Carrie."

"I'm Noah," the man greeted her, although on second glance he was younger than she first thought. "Nice to meet you." Smiling politely, he extended his hand and shook hers.

"Yeah, same here," the woman added, though she extending her fist instead of her hand. "Except, you know…I'm Tara, not Noah."

Chuckling under her breath, Carrie met Tara's fist with her own, already getting the feeling that she liked them. "I've heard a lot about you guys."

"Glenn and Rosita told us heaps about you too," Noah told her, beginning to head down the short hallway.

"They also told us to give you some space…to not pester you," Tara added. "So here we are."

Affirming that she liked them, Carrie just chuckled in amusement. Relieved that it appeared to be only Rick's group there to meet her, she followed Noah and Tara into the kitchen, pleasantly surprised to find that Glenn was there too, looking through the cupboards for something while Michonne fussed with the coffee machine. Feeling comfortable and at ease, she looked to her left and found that the refrigerator door was wide open, and from the sounds of the rummaging inside, she suspected she knew who it was.

"Let me guess. Eugene?"

The rummaging stopped, Tara and Noah laughing loudly as the refrigerator door closed to reveal the person behind. The stocky man whose shorts were too long and socks too high looked at her, his eyes narrowed in scrutiny.

"Hello," he said in a deadpan voice, his eyes clearly gauging her.

"Hello," she smiled in amusement, admiring his hair…Eugene was exactly as they had described to her. Going about all the polite necessities, she extended her hand to shake his, but took it back with yet more amusement. Eugene's arms were presently occupied holding onto a jar of pickles, ketchup, a bowl of boiled potatoes and a tupperware dish of left overs.

"Never mind Eugene, he has no manners," Tara scolded him, raising an eyebrow at him.

"I've extended the minimum necessities of polite interaction," he said defensively, heading around to the other side of the island bench. "That will be the extent of niceties until I make my assessment of the effect of her presence in social circle."

"Thank you," Carrie said, accepting the cup of coffee Michonne passed to her.

At Michonne's encouragement she took a seat at the island bench, Tara and Noah strategically having left the stool between them free. Despite feeling like an animal in the zoo, Carrie was comfortable in their company, knowing that they were a part of Rick's group, and that despite the gawking, they weren't so different to her.

"Mich? Where's mine?" Tara asked, gesturing to Carrie's coffee.

Michonne's shoulders slumped in exasperation, and she hung her head low. "Seriously? I just got back from a three week supply run, and you want me to make you a cup of coffee?"

"I'm just saying, you have the pot in your hand. All you have to do is get a mug and pour."

Grumbling to herself, Michonne opened the cupboard and wearily retrieved a mug for Tara and Noah. "You see how they treat me?" she asked Carrie, pouring the coffee.

"It's disgusting," she agreed.

"Tara's just jealous that I have a room to myself," Michonne teased, putting the coffee pot back in the cradle.

Tara just shrugged. "It's not so bad," she admitted, sipping her coffee. "Sasha's easy to share with. How did you manage to get your own room?"

"I sweet talked Carol. And besides, none of you were willing to live with Judith."

"I'm willing," Noah said darkly. "No offence, Eugene."

"I have a digestion disorder," Eugene replied defensively, opening the jar of pickles.

"Then lay off the dairy!" Tara and Noah groaned in unison.

"Shush!" Michonne said hastily, waving her hand. "Rick and Judith are sleeping."

Rick's sudden arrival disputed this. "No, I'm not."

Feeling the breath leave her body, Carrie had to forcibly hold back her smile, feeling her heart swelling upon seeing him again. She wasn't infatuated with him by any means, but it was still a relief to see him…the last hour or so felt completely strange without her new group surrounding her, and even though she knew they were only nearby, she had felt on edge until she saw them again. It had been the same relief upon seeing Michonne and then Glenn. Looking at Rick now, she watched as he went straight for the pot of coffee, pouring himself the last little bit and drinking it straight away.

As the others talked and Rick put on some more coffee to brew, Carrie nodded and smiled in all the right places, once again feeling like her emotions were like a yo-yo. She felt all over the place, her brain confused between the need to stay alert and vigilant and the instinct to start assimilating to everyone else's relaxed behaviour. It was a strange state of being, one she wasn't quite sure of how to approach, and so she simply winged it. Drinking her coffee, which was as good as Michonne had promised, she made small talk as she got to know Noah, Tara and Eugene a little more, trying not to look at Rick too much.

Carl arrived home a few moments later, smiling cheerfully and saying hello to everyone again. As their attention was momentarily diverted, Carrie glanced up at Rick again, surprised to find that he had been looking at her. She felt nervous for a moment, watching as he gratefully drank his freshly brewed coffee. Half of his hair was mussed up, and the pillow marks on one of his cheeks indicated that he had recently tried to get some sleep. It was no wonder he had tried…judging by the dark marks under his eyes and the long days of travel with little sleep, he was probably one of the most exhausted from their trip.

"Are they looking after you?" he enquired softly, indicating the Michonne and the others.

Carrie nodded. "Of course," she answered, giving a tentative smile. She wished she could tell what he was thinking, but for the first time he was difficult to read.

Rick went to say something else, but when Carl interrupted he apologetically diverted his attention.

"I'm going to Ron's house."

"Are you?" Rick countered, raising his eyebrows.

Sighing, Carl stopped where he was, balancing on his crutches before looking back into the kitchen. "Dad, can I please go to Ron's house?"

"Have you been to the armoury yet?"

"I just got back from there, and before you say it, Olivia told me I can keep my knife."

"You handed in everything else? There's nothing left in your pack?"

"No."

Though he was satisfied, Rick paused before giving permission, drawing it out for a moment. "Be home by sundown."

Thinking him, Carl stopped only long enough to carefully put his comic books into a satchel that hung by the front door, unable to carry them while still on his crutches. There was a short pause in everyone's conversation, a pause in which Carrie glanced up at Rick again, amused by the way he interacted with Carl. At the same time though, it felt strange that Carl was leaving, that he was simply walking out the front door without a gun or without anyone to accompany him…perhaps Rick felt strange about that too, Carrie able to detect a little discomfort in his eyes as he watched Carl getting ready. Catching his eye, Carrie gave him a small smile.

"Dammit, Glenn!" Tara suddenly exclaimed, slamming her hand on the bench top. "What the hell is this?" she asked, wildly gesturing to Carrie.

Having finally found what he wanted from the cupboards, Glenn looked up at her in surprise, frowning. "What?"

"I told you to bring me back a lesbian," Tara said in frustration. "Three weeks out there, and you couldn't get me the one thing I asked for?"

The kitchen burst into laughter, Tara's exclamation telling Carrie a little more about her than polite small talk did. A little embarrassed, for she suspected Tara had seen her looking at Rick, Carrie hid her laughter by taking a long sip of her coffee.

"Well," Glenn began apologetically. "She could be a lesbian…have you even asked her?"

"No, she likes the sausage," Tara whined, eliciting another laugh from Carrie. "I can tell."

As everyone else laughed, Carl frowned, not understanding. "How do you know she likes sausages? You've never seen her eat a sausage."

Carl's innocence only made them laugh more, Noah practically doubled over while Rick simply shook his head in exasperation. "Go to Ron's house," he told Carl.

"No, wait," he protested, beginning to catch on. "Was Tara being dirty?"

"Yes, now go."

"Tell me what she meant," he requested. "Oh, come on!"

"I'll tell you later," Tara hissed at him. "Be cool, alright? Be cool."

Unsure of whether he could trust her or not, Carl did as he was told and left, his eyes still narrowed in confusion as he tried to figure out what was said. As the laughter died down, Rick drank the rest of his coffee and then wearily rubbed his eyes.

"I'm heading out," he told Michonne. "If I'm not back by three o'clock, could you wake Judith for me?"

"Sure. Carrie and I will go to the armoury soon. Do you want us to hand over everything?"

Judging by the way Michonne lowered her voice, the latter sentence was clearly not meant for Carrie's ears, and so she looked back to Noah and Eugene instead. Mentally keeping track, she figured she had only Carol, Sasha and Gabriel left to meet, though she didn't get the impression that Gabriel was really a part of their group anymore.

"See you later," Rick said, catching her eye as he began to leave, Glenn hastening to follow him out.

"See you," she said softly.

Seconds later he was gone, and Carrie resisted the urge to turn around and watch him leave. Beside her, she felt Tara nudging her, and she felt herself blushing when she received a knowing look. It was the same look Rosita and Michonne gave her their first night in the prison, when they'd been gossiping about Rick just as Carrie's attraction to him had started developing.

"There's no shame in checking him out. I was too," she whispered, laughing when Carrie raised an eyebrow at her. "I can still appreciate a good view. Speaking of a good view, where's Daryl?" she asked everyone. "It's been three weeks since I've seen those guns. What that guy does for a leather vest…"

The kitchen burst into laughter again, Glenn shaking his head and apologising to Carrie. Smiling and laughing, she was just relieved to find that it actually felt genuine…in a very short time she had settled in and grown comfortable with the rest of Rick's group, and already it felt like she'd been with them longer than five minutes. A part of her had expected this, knowing that for people like her, people who had been on the outside and had struggled for survival, it was easier to let your guard down a little, to feel comfortable. In no time at all, twenty minutes passed, the group laughing and enjoying one another's company as they got to know Carrie, while also catching up with Michonne and Glenn.

"Tara, would you watch Judith for me?" Michonne requested as Glenn, Noah and Eugene started to head off for the second house. "Carrie and I should get to the armoury, Olivia is probably waiting for us."

"Sure," Tara agreed, although she looked a little reluctant.

"Carol shouldn't be far," she added before turning to Carrie. "Why don't you go and get your weapons. Everything except your knife, you can keep that."

Though she had anticipated handing in her weapons, Carrie found that she was suddenly all that more attached to her guns, despite still not being one hundred percent confident with them. She supposed it had something to do with the way she still felt like she was on alert, to the difficulty in rationalising the idea that she could start letting her guard down a little. The mental reminders she kept giving herself were not enough, and she knew it would only be time that allowed her to start adjusting.

A few minutes later she and Michonne left, carrying the guns they were about to turn in, Carrie with her machete too. Looking at Michonne as they headed down the front steps, she couldn't help but think about how strange she looked without her katana over her shoulder…it was now safely hung up above the mantle in the living room, no longer needed, but not to be relinquished to the armoury. Back out in the sunshine, and this time without the prospect of sharing a house with strangers, Carrie enjoyed the way it beat down on her face and shoulders. Now that the nervousness of meeting her housemates had dissipated, she looked at the small community in a different light, able to enjoy it a little bit more.

"Carrie," Michonne stopped her, indicating to their right. "This is Carol."

Looking around, Carrie held her breath for a moment, seeing the women in the floral sweater Carl had pointed out earlier. Upon their arrival in Alexandria, Carl had hung back a little and given her some last minute advice, suggesting that Carrie learn from Carol, that she made sure people underestimated her. Looking at Carol now, taking in her prim and proper clothes and perfectly coiffed hair, Carrie immediately smelled bull shit. She hadn't spoken two words to the woman, but already she knew Carol was playing a game with the Alexandrian's…and she was playing it well.

"Hi," Carol called out cheerfully.

Carrying a laundry basket under one arm and a heavy bag in the other, she strolled up the pavement towards them, coming from the direction of where they had left the five vehicles parked. Smiling politely, and reminding herself to breathe, Carrie glanced down at the military truck…Rick was already inspecting the greenhouses, but he took pause to watch Carol's approach, as though a part of him was waiting for a spectacle. He gave Carrie a reassuring nod before turning back to the tray of seedlings he was tending to, but Carrie could tell he was still watching them from the corner of his eye.

"Hi Carrie," Carol smiled at her pleasantly as she reached her. "I'm Carol, it's so nice to meet you."

"Hi," she replied, looking forward to the day when she didn't have to exchange so many pleasantries in one day. She made to extend her hand but stopped awkwardly. Carol was already laden up with a laundry basket and heavy bag, and Carrie's hands were full with her two guns and machete, and so she settled for a polite nod. "It's nice to meet you too."

Though she was nothing other than polite, Carrie could feel Carol's eyes scrutinising her, judging what she thought of her first impression. "Rick's told me lots about you," Carol told her.

"Oh, only good things, I hope."

"Many things."

Carol's tone was pleasant, but despite this, Carrie was a little unnerved, feeling as though she was taking an examination no one had warned her about. Carol was playing a game with the Alexandrian's, that much was for sure, but it seemed she was playing it with Carrie too.

"Carol," Michonne began, sensing Carrie's discomfort. "I've left Judith with Tara…"

"Say no more," Carol nodded, understanding. "I've got ironing to do for Natalie. Is she still sleeping?"

"Yes. If he's not back, Rick asked to wake her at three o'clock."

"No problem. Carrie? It's nice to meet you, I look forward to getting to know you."

"Yeah, you too," she replied, doing her best to hide how unnerved she felt. "Thanks, Carol."

With another pleasant smile Carol departed for home, readjusting the laundry basket on her hip. Despite the fact that Carol had been with Rick from the very start, Carrie was kind of glad that she was gone…from the looks of it, Carol wasn't as accepting of her as the others were.

"So, what's with her?" she asked Michonne bluntly, needing an answer of some kind.

"What do you mean?" she enquired, despite knowing exactly what she meant.

"I mean she's been with Rick's group from the very start…what's with the sweater?"

"You don't like her sweater?"

"I'm more interested in what's behind it," she said cautiously, hoping she didn't press too hard. The Grimes group were more than simply a group. They were family…they were loyal. Despite their friendship, Michonne probably wouldn't appreciate her outright mistrust of Carol.

Michonne sighed, giving Carrie the answers she needed. "What's behind the sweater is the same as you and me, except it's hidden a little more."

"So, she's what, a wolf in sheep's clothing?"

"That implies she has malicious intent," Michonne remarked. "But I understand the metaphor, so yes."

"She's playing it smart?" Carrie clarified, the two of them turning down the street with the townhouses. "She's making sure they underestimate her?"

"Exactly."

Carrie paused, wondering how much she should say. "Earlier, Carl told me to watch her…to learn from her."

"To learn from her?"

"Yeah. He said, make sure the people underestimate me."

Michonne smiled slowly, apparently unsurprised. "He's a smart kid…smarter then most people give him credit for."

Not responding to this, despite her agreement, Carrie felt worry growing in the pit of her stomach. It was clear that Rick's nod of approval was not enough for Carol's satisfaction. She didn't trust Carrie, and so in turn, Carrie wondered if she could trust Carol.

"You can trust Carol," Michonne assured her, as if she could read Carrie's mind.

Nodding, Carrie sought to clarify her worries. "Will she trust me?"

"I won't lie…you're going to have to earn it."

Carrie sighed. "I thought as much. Any advice on how to do that?"

Pausing outside the entrance to the pantry, Michonne seemed to hesitate, clearly mulling over her answer, trying to come up with something. "We all mistrusted you at the beginning…for Carol, this is the beginning."

"But what do I do to earn that trust? With you guys, all I had to do was not murder you in your sleep."

Michonne chuckled at this remark, tilting her head back and enjoying the sun on her face. Shaking her head, she looked at Carrie again. "No, you also had to prove yourself…which you did."

"Why do I get the feeling it's not going to be that easy to prove myself to Carol?"

"Because proving yourself is only the start," Michonne answered, looking at her seriously. "For Carol, you'll have to prove whose side you're on."

"Whose side?" she asked in worry. In the back of her mind lingered a conversation she'd had with Rick some time ago, one in which he had mentioned a clear division in Alexandria.

Nodding, Michonne answered. "To Carol at least, there's us…and there's them. Make sure you pick your side."


	3. Chapter 3

It was a little after seven thirty in the evening, and just like he had been earlier that afternoon, Rick was struggling to keep his eyes open. Relaxing in the rocking chair that sat in the corner of the bedroom, Judith was drinking from her bottle, her eyes drifting open and closed as Rick's did the same. Their bedroom was dark except for Judith's night light, the warm orange glow not helping his attempt to stay awake. Rubbing his eyes, he focused his attention on Judith, stroking her scalp just the way she liked. He got the reaction he desired, feeling her shudder in delight as she worked at her formula. Picking up her free hand, he brought it to his mouth and kissed it, taking a moment to check the bandaids around her thumb were secure. She'd taken to accidentally biting herself any time she went to suck it, still getting used to what it meant having more teeth in her mouth.

Insisting they start dinner without him, Rick had focused on getting Judith ready for bed, suspecting that he and Carl wouldn't be that far behind her. Having fed her dinner early, he smiled as he thought about the way she eagerly ploughed through the lasagne, enjoying every bite. She had definitely grown in the last few weeks, and her desire for independence was increasing. That night she allowed him to feed her only until her initial hunger had been satisfied, and from then on she clumsily fed herself, quickly abandoning her spoon and using her hands. It made for quite the clean up afterwards, but the look of glee on her face was more than worth it. She was practically walking too, Rick having seen her take tentative steps before giving up in favour of crawling.

A part of him felt the natural guilt of having missed Judith's first steps, while the rational part of him did not. These days, he couldn't always be with his children for those special moments, and that was something he'd been forced to accept. Her first bottle had been for Daryl, her first smile had been for Beth, and her first steps had been for Carol. He would be there to celebrate her first birthday though. He'd make her a cake, wrap her gifts, build the Crazy Coupe…kissing her forehead as she drank her bottle, he knew it would have to be enough.

Hearing footsteps, he looked through the bedroom door to see Carol coming up the stairs, and he had little doubt of where she was going. Walking softly so as to not disturb Judith's growing sleepiness, she joined him in the bedroom and sat on the edge of the bed. Rick knew what she was there for. With the fuss of their arrival home and getting Carrie settled, he and Carol hadn't had a chance to really talk, to begin discussing what had happened both in Alexandria and on the supply run. Thinking through it all, Rick wondered where he would possibly begin…should he start with Carrie? With the Ohio group? Carol knew vaguely that something had happened with Aidan, that Rick had been eager to bug Deanna's house to catch the first conversations, but she knew little more than that. Thankfully, Carol started.

"I wanted to catch you while you were alone," she explained her intrusion. "Without Carl listening."

"Where is he now?"

"Doing the dishes. We've got a problem with Walkers."

Rick sighed in frustration. He hadn't even back a day and there were problems to be dealt with. "What is it?"

"The ones with the W on their foreheads. We've been keeping track of them. Sasha says they're coming from all directions now, not just from the east."

"Okay."

"And…we're fairly certain now that a fair proportion of them weren't killed by other Walkers. There's a lot of fresh ones, people that have been killed recently."

Rick looked down at Judith. She had stopped drinking now, and she smiled at him sleepily as she snuggled into his chest, clenching his shirt in her fist. Having not given it up yet, she was clutching a brown piece of material to her chest, remnants of the tee-shirt he used to wear out on the road. "So someone's killing people, and then carving the W into their forehead?"

"Or the other way around. Carving the W, and then killing them."

"Did we get any today?" he asked.

"I'm not sure. If someone did, they probably haven't burned or buried them yet. I asked Holly, no one went outside the gates today except Daryl. So unless Sasha left by climbing down the clock tower, they're still out there."

"I want to see them…we might be able to tell if the W was made before or after they turned. Is Daryl back inside yet?"

"I don't think so."

Rick was unsurprised. "I knew it wouldn't take him long to flee the walls the moment we got back."

Carol nodded in agreement, she too having expected this.

"Are you sure there's nothing going on with him?"

"Why, because he gave Carrie his room?" Carol enquired, raising her eyebrow. "No. He's right, anyway. He hardly uses it."

"How's she settling in?" he enquired. After her initial arrival, Rick had been gone for the most part of the afternoon, tending to the plants in the greenhouse and making plans to unload the supplies the following day.

"Carrie?" she smiled. "She's settled in. I like her."

Rick narrowed his eyes, doubting the latter remark. "Don't give her a hard time."

"Sorry?"

"I know how your mind works," he told her wryly. "She's an outsider, you don't know her. I understand wanting to keep her at arm's length, but don't give her a hard time."

Carol didn't say anything for a moment, and she seemed a little annoyed at how perceptive he was. "Fine. I don't know what I think of her."

"Alright," he shrugged. "Just don't give her a hard time because she hasn't proven herself to you."

"I take it she's proved herself to you."

"Yes."

Clearing her throat, Carol nodded, indicating that she would do as requested. "So, what's the story with you two?"

Surprised that she was interested, Rick just raised an eyebrow at her.

"Well come on," she said impatiently. "You're sleeping with her. How did that happen?"

"The usual way."

"Are you seeing one another?"

"No," he shook his head, remembering the conversation he and Carrie had only yesterday. "It's not like that."

It was Carol's turn to raise her eyebrows. "I never took you for someone who just screwed around with a woman."

 _I'm not,_ he thought to himself. He didn't say this though, and instead looked down at Judith, hoping Carol would drop the subject.

"Must be strange having her living here now."

"Yes," he admitted. Strange, but not unwelcome. "But Deanna was right…she needs to be with people she knows. I'd rather she be here than on her own, or with one of _them_."

There was a lull in conversation, and the sound of chatter and running water drifted up from downstairs. There was a laugh he recognised as Carl, followed by a loud shriek from Michonne. Glad to be back at home with his family, he looked into the crib beside him to make sure the blankets were pulled back. Though they had taken the new crib out of the delivery van and brought it into his room, Rick had made sure he put the old sheets Judith was used to on the mattress, that she got to use the blanket she was familiar with. He'd seen the way she had been looking at the crib every time she saw it, her eyes full of suspicion for something that was so different to the travel crib she normally slept in. She was fast asleep in his arms now, but Rick delayed putting her to bed, wanting to hold her a little longer.

"The laptop is recording?" Carol asked.

"Yes."

As soon as he knew Maggie would be planting the bug, he had gone straight to the Hyundai to retrieve his pack, needing the laptop immediately. Opening the program, he had finalised the set up of the bug and set it to record, ready and able to catch any conversation that was held in the Monroe living room or kitchen. But since then he hadn't found the chance to listen to it. On that note, he knew he and Deanna were going to have to talk soon, that he'd need to give her a debrief of the supply run…that would probably happen tomorrow.

"Where is it? I'll start listening."

Rick shook his head. "Leave it," he insisted, unsure if he'd be awake long enough to listen too. He stroked Judith's hair, wishing Carol hadn't needed to trim it. If she was anything like her brother, her hair would start to darken over the next few months. "Anything recorded will still be there tomorrow. It can wait."

Though impatient with this, Carol just nodded. Having said all that was urgent for now, she got to her feet and peered at Judith fondly. "Your dinner is in the microwave. I've put Daryl's in the fridge."

"Thank you," he nodded, catching her eye a moment later. "And thank you for looking after things…not just while I was gone."

Understanding what he meant, Carol slowly nodded. She left a moment later, heading back downstairs and intervening on what sounded like a kitchen towel fight between Carl and Michonne. Enjoying the solitude, Rick closed his eyes and listened to Judith breathing, the sound of it bringing him peace. He liked listening to her breathe during the night, particularly so when they had lived in the prison. He still remembered the first time Beth had taken her for the night. Rick had been on a long and particularly exhausting supply run, needing to find supplies to accommodate the sudden influx of people from Woodbury. Judith was barely five weeks old, and despite his exhaustion, he hadn't been able to sleep without her in his cell, feeling lost without her in the plastic box that served as her crib. That night, he'd apologetically awoken Beth and taken his daughter back, ignoring the amused smile the young woman gave him.

Feeling a pang of hunger, Rick knew he ought to go downstairs and eat. With a long sigh he got to his feet and carefully laid Judith down in her new crib, letting his hand linger on her back, the weight of it comforting her as she roused. He shushed her for a few moments, putting the blanket around her waist and giving her a pacifier when she raised her head to look for it. Satisfied, she slumped down and closed her eyes, whimpering only for a moment before succumbing to sleep. He stayed a little longer and watched over her, eventually turning on the video monitor and taking the receiver downstairs with him.

The kitchen was bustling as Carrie, Michonne and Carl cleaned up after dinner, and as Rick heated up his own in the microwave he was glad to see that Carrie seemed comfortable. He could tell she wasn't putting on a facade, and he knew Deanna had been right to suggest that she come and live here with his group. The thought of her living in the shared townhouse wasn't pleasant, and he knew she wouldn't be as she was right now. She was joking around with Carl as she loaded the dishwasher, expertly avoiding his attempt to flick her with a kitchen towel. Rick's first instinct was to tell Carl off, to scold him for flicking kitchen towels, but Carrie didn't need him to defend her. Taking one out of the drawer when Carl wasn't looking, she wet the tip of it and then twirled it around, delighting in the loud shout he gave when she got him.

"Hey, you started it," she shrugged, threateningly twirling the towel again.

"Yeah, alright," he said, his hands now occupied in the sink. "Truce until I'm done?"

Rick took his plate out of the microwave and grabbed a beer at the last minute, figuring he'd indulge for his first night back at home. Leaving them to it, he headed out onto the front porch where he was pleased to find Daryl had returned. He was perched on his usual spot on the porch railing, fiddling with his crossbow as a cigarette hung from his lips. Neither of them needed to make small talk, and so Rick took a seat and put his feet up on the coffee table, beginning the meal Carol had prepared for his birthday. Typical of what they had available, the lasagne was pretty slim on meat, vegetables having been used to bulk up the majority of it, but Rick found no complaint. Food was food, and besides…Carol was a damn good cook. Thinking of the cake he wanted to make Judith for her birthday on Monday, he figured he ought to ask her for help…he'd never made anything more complicated than a packet mix with frosting from a can. Lori was the one who had made birthday cakes for Carl…hell, she usually spent the night before his birthday slaving over her creation before hiding it in Shane's fridge. It would easier for Judith, she wouldn't notice how poor Rick's first attempt was.

"Bagged a couple of rabbits," Daryl remarked. Five minutes had passed in almost complete silence, the only sounds coming from the kitchen towel fight that had resumed inside.

"That's good," Rick replied, noting the bulging satchel at Daryl's feet.

"Wasn't Spencer supposed to check the snares?"

"I think so."

"Sasha reckons she had to do them all."

"When did you speak to her?"

"Just now."

Rick didn't know what to say to this…the simple task of checking snares shouldn't have been difficult for Spencer to complete. He had been outside the walls before, and the snares had only been set up a few yards in from the main road.

"Did you hand in your guns?"

Daryl shook his head. "I'll do it tomorrow." With a long sigh he got down off the railing and put his crossbow on the ground, making his way over to where Rick sat. Slumping down beside him, he took his beer from the coffee table and took a long swig.

"Is there something on your mind?" Rick asked, taking the bottle when Daryl passed it to him.

"Nope," he replied shortly.

"Seems like there is."

"Well there ain't."

Though he disbelieved Daryl's claim, Rick didn't push the subject. The two of them sat in silence, passing the beer back and forth as they stewed in their own thoughts. Glancing at Daryl from the corner of his eye, Rick was struck by a sudden memory of he and Shane doing this exactly same thing…sitting on the front porch sharing a couple of beers. They used to do that with very few concerns in the world, neither of them ever anticipating that one day, Shane would try very hard to kill him.

"Glad to be home?"

"Sure," Daryl said shortly. He sighed softly, flicking the lid of his lighter open and closed. "Glad to be… _back_."

Just as Rick used to, Daryl did not refer to Alexandria as home, and though Rick understood where he was coming from, that Daryl was struggling to find his place here, Rick wished he would. It was harder for Daryl, or so he suspected. When they lived at the prison, he knew his role, he knew where he fit and the people there respected him. Here in Alexandria, the people didn't see him as anything other than unapproachable and intimidating…a loose cannon from the outside. While Daryl appeared unconcerned by what they thought of him, Rick could tell he missed the way things were at the prison, that he missed the people who appreciated and understood what he did for them.

"Hey, Dad?"

Looking up, Rick felt content to see Carl, once again revelling in the relief that came with having brought him home safely. "Yeah?"

Carl hesitated, balancing on his crutches as he lifted both his feet off the ground. "I know Pete said I had to rest, but I can help with the supplies tomorrow, right? I don't want to sit around watching TV."

"Don't you want to catch up with Ron and Mikey?"

"I did that today."

Considering this, Rick nodded. "We'll find you something to do. They'll need help with the guns…cleaning them, cataloguing. You should be able to do that sitting down."

"Thanks. You doing your rounds in the morning?"

"Yes."

"Can -"

"No."

Carl sighed. "You didn't even let me ask my question."

"I know what it was. Can I come with you?"

"Well…please, can I?"

Reminding himself to be patient, Rick shook his head. "I'll take you outside soon," he promised, knowing that just like he and Daryl, Carl was feeling stir crazy already. "Can we please just get through the next few days?"

Understanding, Carl just nodded. "Alright." There was a short pause, and Rick knew exactly what was coming next. "Can I try your beer?"

Without hesitation, he held the bottle out to him. "You won't like it." Rick watched from the corner of his eye as Carl tentatively took a sip, catching the way his mouth twisted with a grimace. "I told you."

"I do like it," he tried to claim, though he gave it back without argument.

As Carl headed back inside, Rick took another sip and then gave it to Daryl, letting him have the rest. "Carol's made up the attic for you," he told him. "It's just a mattress and bedding for now. We'll get a bed frame up there over the weekend."

"Don't worry 'bout it."

Rick had anticipated this. "A chest of drawers, maybe a couch so you can get away from Judith…a rug to keep it warm."

"Like I said, don't worry 'bout it," Daryl repeated.

Still getting the uncomfortable feeling that there was something wrong, Rick peered at him critically. Was Daryl just trying to be low maintenance, or was there another reason he didn't want them making the attic comfortable for him?

"Is something wrong?" Rick asked again, daring to press the issue.

"Nothin'," he replied in annoyance. "Just don't want people fussin' over me, that's all."

"It's Carol…it's us. We're not _people_."

Daryl just grunted. "How's Carrie settling in?" he enquired, changing the subject.

"Just fine." Peering out across Alexandria, pleased to note that he could see very little light from the residents' windows, he thought about Carrie some more. "She's better off here with us."

"You mean compared to them?" Daryl grunted, gesturing to the other houses. "Yeah, no shit."

Silence fell again, and this time it wasn't comfortable. Finding himself searching for something to say, something to fill the silence, Rick decided he ought to leave it alone. He knew that something was wrong, but he also knew Daryl…if it was something he wanted help with, he'd say so. Until then, Rick had to trust him to take care of it himself. Neither of them needed him butting in where he wasn't invited, trying to fix other people's problems when they didn't want him to.

"Your dinner is in the fridge," Rick said, getting up and taking his plate and the empty bottle. With his free hand he clapped Daryl on the shoulder. "Thank you."

Daryl just grunted in acknowledgement, neither of them needing to verbalise exactly what it was Rick was thanking him for. Still frustrated, he went back inside, glad to find Carol and Carrie sitting at the kitchen island together, sharing a pot of herbal tea and making an effort to get to know one another. Carrie looked up at him as he opened the dishwasher and stacked his plate, making him remember the way they kept stealing glances at one another throughout the whole supply run. Unlike then, tonight she just gave him a friendly smile before turning her attention back to Carol. It was odd to see her as she was right now…sitting in his kitchen as though it was any other day. It was just so dramatically different to the way he had gotten to know her, and her presence in his home was surprisingly unsettling. He didn't quite know what to make of it, even though he had welcomed her there and truly meant it. Much like the first few days he had spent in this house, Carrie seemed uncertain of the new environment, despite how well she was settling in with the rest of the group.

Though it was barely past eight o'clock, Rick knew it was time to retreat to bed and get some sleep. Aside from his exhaustion, he'd grown used to turning in early on the supply run, their group needing to take advantage of every hour available to them. Glancing over at Carl and Michonne who were lazing in the living room, he suspected they wouldn't be far behind him, Carl especially. Saying goodnight, he looked to Carrie and wished that like during the supply run they were able to find a moment alone. He wanted to talk to her himself, to see how she was settling in…he knew that speaking to her would settle the strange feeling he had in the pit of his stomach, but the opportunity was not afforded to him.

Instead he had to settle for an awkward nod that only made her frown. Trying not to think on that too much, he reminded Carl to not stay up too late before heading upstairs. Judith was fast asleep when he retuned to the master bedroom, and he adjusted her blankets before gratefully heading into the en suite bathroom. It smelled faintly of the scented bubbles he had put into Judith's bath, making him smile as he pulled off his boots and undressed. It was like taking off a second skin, one that was most unwelcome now that he had returned to Alexandria. Aside from Daryl of course, Rick was the only one who hadn't showered yet, having not seen the point in cleaning up straight away. He didn't stink too badly, and his task of checking on Bob's garden and the plants they'd brought back from the prison would have made it redundant.

Now though, he gratefully turned on one of the two shower heads and stepped under, groaning at how good the hot water felt. The shower at the prison had been icy cold, and the one he'd taken at the underground bunker hadn't been much better. Now though, with the water beating down on him and soap on his skin, he breathed an incredible sigh of relief. He felt clean in just a few short minutes, but he lingered longer than usual, not wanting it to end. Running his hand through his wet hair, he started thinking of Carrie again, wondering how long it would take for them to find a moment alone to reconnect. It was weird to think that only yesterday morning they were having sex, stealing kisses in dark hallways and trying to keep their hands off one another. Thinking of how much he missed the feeling of her skin beneath his lips, of his hands on her body, he felt his own body responding in kind. Shaking his head to himself he quickly changed his train of thought, not wanting to get started desires he couldn't address.

He knew things would be different when they got home, that they'd have to behave themselves around one another, but he worried that he felt awkward now, almost as if he didn't know how to act around her. Technically speaking, they were friends with benefits, no matter how uncomfortable that term was beginning to make him feel. Carol was right…he wasn't someone who just screwed around, and yet that's exactly what he was doing. Or at least, what he intended to do…that's what he was stuck on. Their return to Alexandria brought with it a sense of starting over, and perhaps that was where this odd feeling was coming from. The entire context of their relationship would be different now. Hell, they were living together. Would that change things? His frustration growing, he knew that this was not what he had anticipated from their return home. It was supposed to get easier, wasn't it?

Still dwelling on how different things felt, he mentally told himself to give Carrie a break, knowing that what she was going through right now was very overwhelming. Remembering how he felt upon arriving in Alexandria, he knew Carrie was feeling mentally and emotionally exhausted. Suddenly, an unwelcome thought presented itself to him. He wondered if she might lose interest in him now that they were home. While he had never mistrusted her intentions, not believing that she was using him or his group just for a roof over her head, he couldn't help but wonder if the excitement and attraction they felt for each other had only been so strong because of the supply run. Tensions were high, and so were their emotions…now that they were home and safe, perhaps the spark between them would fade.

Not liking his train of thought, he knew it wasn't representative of Carrie, but rather his own self doubt rearing it's ugly head. Though it was the first hot shower he'd had in weeks, he turned it off, for it hadn't been as relaxing as he'd hoped. Wringing the water out of his hair and reminding himself to speak to Jessie about cutting it, he roughly dried it before slinging his towel around his waist. As he brushed his teeth he peered at himself in the mirror, a part of him still not recognising the person looking back at him, even behind the short beard. He briefly considered shaving before deciding to put it off a little while longer…he was so tired he wasn't sure he'd manage it. Finishing up, he turned off the lights and headed back into the bedroom, adjusting the towel around his waist. He was surprised to find that Carl was in their bedroom, already dressed in his pyjamas and stretched out across his side of the bed.

"Hey," he muttered, barely glancing up from his Harry Potter book.

"Turn on the light," he said, not approving of him reading only by Judith's night light. "You won't wake her."

Doing as he was told, Carl turned back to his book as Rick dressed, slipping on a pair of sweats and not bothering with a shirt. They weren't on the supply run anymore. He didn't have to sleep fully dressed, boots, gun and all.

"Earlier, you said you needed to show me something," Carl said a short while later, reminding him.

"Yes," he said, hanging his towel up. "In here."

Heading into their walk in closet, which despite Judith's wide array of clothing was far too large for the three of them, Rick waited patiently for Carl to follow. He closed the door behind him and then headed to the very back where he had put their empty packs that afternoon. Ensuring that Carl was watching, he pulled them down and showed him what was being them.

"Is that a safe?" he asked, frowning at it as Rick took it down.

"Yes," he nodded, putting it down on one of the lower shelves for Carl to look at it properly. He gestured to the number panel. "The combination is five, six, seven, four."

At his invitation, Carl entered the digits and then turned the handle to open it. Looking inside, he seemed unsurprised to find a revolver, and at Rick's prompting he reached inside and took it out. Watching him, Rick was pleased to find see that the first thing he did was open the cylinder to determine whether or not it was loaded. Seeing that it was, Carl then looked at the two speed loaders with rounds ready.

"This is a Colt, right?" Carl enquired, looking over the revolver. "The Detective Special?"

"Yes."

"And…it's here just in case?" he deduced.

"Yes."

Accepting this, Carl put the revolver and extra rounds back inside, closing the door and then re-entering the pin code to practice. "Five, six, seven, four….five, six, seven, four…"

"It spells Lori."

Carl frowned at this, not understanding until Rick pointed out the way the numbers and letters corresponded. "Thanks…I think I can remember that."

"The battery won't run out any time soon, but if you make a mistake with the combination three times, it will lock you out for an hour. If that happens, I have a key in my duty belt…and there's another key in our bathroom. Open the third drawer in the vanity, it's taped to the top of the drawer above."

"Who else knows this is here?"

"Just you and me," he lied a little. Carol and Daryl knew too of course, but Carl didn't need to know this. "It's very important that no one else knows about this."

"But, what if they need it?" he asked in concern. "I get why I can't tell most people, but what about our group?"

Rick didn't bother with an explanation. "Just you and me. Is that clear?"

Carl nodded obediently.

"Do not tell your friends about this. Even if they think they need one, even if they tell you they know how to use it."

"Alright."

Wanting to seal the promise, Rick held out his hand for Carl to shake, just as he had done when he laid out the terms of him joining them on the supply run. But unlike the eager handshake he got then, Carl paused now, thinking.

"If you're showing me this, then you're saying I can use it?"

Seeing that he was trying to get all their cards on the table, Rick lowered his hand. "Yes," he said. "Only if you have to."

"But you know that I might have to," Carl emphasised.

Getting the feeling that they'd had this conversation once before, Rick nodded. "That's why it's here. It's for you to defend yourself with, alright?"

"Alright." Satisfied, Carl held out his hand, indicating his promise.

Shaking it to seal their promise, Rick took a brief hug from him and then sent him back to bed. Checking that the safe had locked again, he returned it to the top shelf and pushed it right to the back. Even with his bad leg, Carl would be able to reach it in an emergency by simply climbing the shelves a little. As he stuffed their packs in front of it, he prayed Carl never found occasion to use it, even though he knew that one day the world would give him reason to. Returning to the bedroom, Rick resisted the urge to go about his usual checks, to make his rounds of the walls and ensure that all the houses had drawn their blinds. He needed to rest, to recover from three weeks on the road. Pulling Judith's crib closer to his side of the bed, for no doubt he'd be comforting her during the night, he gratefully laid down in the clean new sheets and sighed in relief.

"Is the light bothering you?" Carl enquired, still reading his book.

"No, it's fine," he assured him, getting comfortable and closing his eyes. "Read as long as you like," he insisted, despite knowing that in half an hour he'd have to get out of bed to take the book away. Carl would fall asleep with the book against his chest, his head tipped forward and a snore rumbling in his throat from the uncomfortable angle. It would be just like the old days when Rick came home from an evening shift, amused to find that Carl had desperately tried to stay awake for him. He'd take the comic book away from him and turn off the light, and tonight would be no different. Just like the old days, Rick would still take the chance to kiss him on the forehead, knowing such a gesture was generally unwelcome at Carl's present age.

"Dad…does Dumbledore really die?"

Rick smiled into his pillow, remembering Carl's devastation when Glenn had accidentally spoiled that storyline that morning. A part of Rick wanted to tell him the truth, to continue preparing him for the realities of life, that not everything turned out the way he thought it would. But at the same time…didn't he want Carl to live with some sense of hope?

"Glenn was lying," he told him. "Dumbledore doesn't die."

* * *

Carrie's first night in Alexandria had not been what she had expected.

Despite the newfound relief that came with the news she was living with her group, and despite how well she had settled in and enjoyed her evening, for the life of her she could not sleep. This was not been what she had expected. For weeks now she had pined for the comfortable bed everyone had said was waiting for her in Alexandria, for the warm and clean sheets. She had imagined herself sinking into them, smiling through the darkness and then falling into a long, restful sleep. The reality differed quite a lot.

Exhausted from the supply run, Rick and Carl had gone to bed not long after dinner, and Carl didn't even have to be told. When Rick departed for the sanctuary of his own bed, Carl had followed only minutes after, clumsily making his way up the stairs on his crutches before giving up halfway and walking. Carrie on the other hand stayed up a little longer, surprised by how much she enjoyed sharing a pot of tea with Carol. While the others headed off to bed and Daryl stayed perched on the front porch, she and Carol sat at the island bench making polite small talk, sharing general tidbits of their life as they slowly moved onto the outbreak.

Perhaps her first impression of Carol had been off, for when she'd met the woman that afternoon, she felt like Carol had been scrutinising her closely, almost mistrustfully. Though she still got the feeling that Carol wasn't being entirely open with her, the floral sweater and sweet smile being a testament to that, at least she didn't feel like she was under interrogation…or was she? Carol had a knack for asking open ended questions, preferring to sit back and let Carrie talk. At first it had just felt like she was being polite, that she was letting the newcomer speak and share her story, but soon it became a little uncomfortable, almost as if she was being interviewed for a highly sought after position. Then again, she supposed she was.

It was a relief when she returned to her bedroom that night, for she was desperately looking forward to sleeping in her long awaited bed. It felt surreal to be closing the bedroom door and engulfing herself in ultimate privacy, to stand there and look around the bedroom Daryl had given up for her, to acknowledge the space as entirely her own. It was strange to think that this room was hers, that the clothes in the closet were her own and the toiletries in the bathroom were too…for the longest time the only thing she owned was a crusty butter knife and a bottle of water that was never quite enough to satiate her. By habit, she kept her new water bottle with her, having washed it while they did the dishes that evening after dinner. It was on her bedside table now, filled with clean water that came from a never ending tap…that too was surreal.

Unsure of what to do, she wandered around her bedroom for longer than necessary, trying to remember what it was like to have an evening routine. In the end, she had to close her eyes and recite a list of things she ought to be doing, of the care she needed to afford her body now that she had the opportunity. Findi some pyjamas, brush her hair, brush her teeth, floss, wash her face…hell, she could put on moisturiser too. Trying to establish the new routine, she methodically went about completing all of these tasks, but even then it did not feel complete. Sitting on the edge of her bed, she tried to relax, simultaneously trying not to cry in frustration. It wasn't meant to feel like this…she was meant to fall into a long, restful sleep…it was meant to be easy.

Giving it her best shot, she pulled back the comforter and slid into the crisp, clean sheets, wishing she could exalt in how nice they were…the relief of clean linen just didn't come to her. Laying out her knife on the nightstand, leaving the handle within easy reach, she turned off the lamp and then curled up onto her side and tried to sleep. But she couldn't relax…she couldn't turn her mind off, still feeling like she was on full alert, like there was definitely something she had forgotten. She wondered if everyone in her group had felt like this their first night in Alexandria, if Rick had laid awake all night worrying, certain that it wasn't real. Despite being surrounded by her group, both in this house and the one next door, she couldn't help but still feel very alone. Trying to comfort herself, she grabbed one of the spare pillows and then hugged it to her chest, remembering the way she used to sleep with her arm around Shannon, what a relief it was to hold the young teen against her chest every night while they slept. In the last three weeks especially, she had grown used to sleeping beside another person, to hearing their breathing and snores…sleeping alone was difficult.

Hours passed, and though Carrie felt she might have gotten a little sleep, she constantly roused at each small sound, her mind racing as she asked herself who was on watch. Each time she raised her head and looked for the person sleeping beside her, to make sure they were alright, but each time she found only that stupid pillow she was holding. Struggling to sleep, to wrap her head around everything that had happened, Carrie sighed and rolled onto her other side. Peering at the clock beside her bed, she was frustrated to see that it was almost three o'clock in the morning. Her bed was warm and comfortable, everything she had been hoping for…and still she could not sleep properly.

Frustrated, she sat up and threw the blankets off. Sitting on the edge of her bed she took a long drink of water, trying to figure out what it was her body needed go to sleep. Her muscles were a little sore right now, and the ache from the bruise on her left shin reminded her she was supposed to introduce herself to Pete for a check up. Dreading the thought of that, she got to her feet and stretched her arms above her head, wondering if a hot drink would help her sleep. Opening her bedroom door, which she'd been asked to keep closed while she slept, Carrie crept across the dark landing, hoping she didn't disturb anyone. Slowly going down the staircase, she clumsily felt along the wall where she thought the kitchen light switch might be.

Squinting as her eyes adjusted to the light, Carrie moved about quietly as she filled the kettle and then set it to boil. Taking out a mug and choosing a tea bag from the selection, she folded her arms and leant against the kitchen bench as she looked around. The world always looked unusual during the night, and the house was no different. The kitchen light cast strange shadows over the furniture, and the shadow of the ceramic cat Michonne had brought from the prison looked particularly intimidating atop the mantle piece. She went to look outside, annoyed when she remembered that all the windows were covered up to keep the light from shining onto the street.

Hearing light footsteps on the staircase, Carrie immediately felt a pang of guilt, wondering if she had awoken anyone with the boiling kettle. Readying her apology, she poured her tea and then added a little cold water, but her apology fell silent on her lips. It was Rick who walked into the kitchen, and she quickly looked away as she felt herself blushing…she couldn't help but notice he wasn't wearing a shirt. In his arms he carried Judith, her half asleep state indicating the reason for his light feet.

"Hey," he greeted her, his voice low and soft. "I thought I heard someone up."

"Hey," she replied softly. Looking up, she watching the way he rubbed Judith's back. She looked so cute in her yellow pyjamas, her legs curled up while her head rested on Rick's shoulder. "Did I wake her?"

He scoffed at this remark, shaking his head as he headed for one of the cupboards. "A freight train wouldn't wake her normally. She and I have been up for a while."

Sitting down on the other side of the island bench, Carrie sipped her tea as she watched Rick moving about the kitchen. Taking a small white tube from the top shelf, he unscrewed a lid and smeared a small amount of clear gel onto the tip of his finger. Encouraging Judith to open her mouth, he slipped his finger inside her lip and applied it, her attention rousing when she realised what it was. She lifted her head off Rick's shoulder, and it was then that Carrie could see her cheeks were tinged pink, her chin covered in saliva which Rick simply wiped away with the back of his hand. Soothing her, he watched her smack her lips together before putting her head back onto his shoulder with a long, shuddering sigh.

"She bit the inside of her lip this morning," he softly explained, kissing the crown of her head and glancing up at Carrie. "She's not real fond of her crib either."

"Why's that?"

He smiled now, looking at Judith in exasperation. "Because it's different…she's a creature of habit. No, no, no," he shook his head, catching Judith's hand as she raised her thumb to her mouth. As he reminded her that it was sore, Carrie saw the bright pink marks around her knuckle. As Judith started to cry in frustration, struggling to get her hand back, Rick opened the refrigerator with and took out a pacifier, trying to tempt her with that instead. "Come on, it's cold. You'll like it…good girl."

Taking it only reluctantly, Judith shuddered and squeezed a few tears out of her eyes, continuing to fuss until Rick started rocking her, swaying from side to side as he used one hand to get a glass and fill it with water. Watching him, and trying not to be obvious about it, Carrie had to stop herself from smiling. Over the last week or so she'd been privileged to see a different side of Rick, one that was both passionate and tender, and it was nice seeing that side of him again, even though it wasn't for her. Completely unaware of how attractive he looked right now, Rick filled his glass with water and took a long drink, still rocking Judith as she settled again.

Continuing to watch him, Carrie wished she could get some indication about what he was thinking, where his head was at. Though she knew he had a lot of things on his plate, she selfishly wished he would give her more than the cursory glances he had sent her way all of yesterday. She knew their arrival in Alexandria would put bit of a damper on what they had going on, that they'd need to behave themselves, but she couldn't help the disappointment that came with that. Though he hadn't been anything other than polite and welcoming to her, things felt different…it was difficult adjusting to that change.

"Everything okay?" he enquired, opening the refrigerator again. "What's keeping you up?"

Carrie smiled at this, enjoying the way his accent twanged on certain vowels. She delayed her answer, taking a moment to admire his bare back and the way his sweatpants sat low on his hips. "Just can't sleep."

"Are you warm enough?" he asked, sounding concerned.

"I am," she assured him. "I'm just…"

"Still on full alert?" he suggested. Turning back to her, he showed Judith a half bottle of her formula, gauging her interest in it. Her attention was immediately roused, and she lifted her head off his shoulder and reached for it.

"Yeah."

"Me too," he muttered, putting the bottle in the microwave and turning it on.

There was a short pause now, the two of them watching the way the bottle turned round and round in the microwave. Judith too was watching, yawning widely as she patiently awaited her bottle. She suddenly turned and looked at Carrie, her big blue eyes curiously looking her up and down. Carrie hadn't really interacted much with Judith that day, particularly given the way most of the returning supply runners were determined to monopolise her. Carrie didn't mind, both wanting to allow the others to spend time with her, and a little intimidated. Despite the old desire to one day have her own, she'd never had anything to do with babies other than holding one of her friend's…once. The baby had puked everywhere without warning, the greyish liquid dripping down her skirt, even managing to get into her new Birkin bag, whose expensive leather never quite smelled the same. Since then she'd politely refused all offers from her friend to hold the baby again, refusals she was starting to regret now.

Having heated it a little too long, Rick was apologising as he added a little cold water to the bottle. Despite her frustration, Judith just waited patiently, though her short sigh did indicate he should hurry up. Deciding she would take her tea up to her room with her, Carrie slid off her stool, her movement catching Judith's attention again.

"I think I mi…" she trailed off, Rick having started speaking at the same time. There was an uncomfortable pause, the two of them looking at each other awkwardly. "Sorry, you go," she insisted.

"I'm, ahh…" he started, giving Judith the bottle when she insistently reached for it. Taking her pacifier, he hooked it around his pinky finger as he moved her to his other hip. "I'm going to take her back to bed, see if I can get some sleep."

"Me too," she said awkwardly.

There was another awkward pause now, but Carrie could see the corner of his mouth turned upwards…he was trying to hide a smile, and he was doing it poorly.

"After you," he said politely. "I'll hit the lights."

Heading for the staircase, Carrie reached for the banister to guide her, Rick turning off the lights a moment later. As she ascended the stairs and reached the middle landing, she was highly aware of Rick's presence behind her, listening to his footsteps. The house was silent, and as they walked softly she could hear Judith's heavy breathing as she drank from her bottle. Making her way through the darkness Carrie reached the top landing, her eyes having adjusted enough to make out the dimensions of the hallway. She turned back to bid Rick goodnight, but hearing his footsteps speed up a little, she paused.

"Wait," he whispered softly, catching up to her.

Waiting for him in the darkness, she held her breath as she wondered what it was he wanted. Seeing his silhouette appear in front of her, she held her breath as he came closer to her, moving cautiously in the dark. She felt the best type of shiver run down her spine, and her heart sped up as she thought that maybe…just maybe, he was going to kiss her. There was a long moment of silence, and the only thing she could hear was Judith sucking at her bottle, and it was the longest time before the shadow in front of her moved again.

Just as she had hoped, Rick kissed her now. As he moved closer she felt his hand come to rest on her upper arm as he leant in and softly pressed his lips against hers, going softly so as to gauge her response. Trying not to sigh with relief, for she wasn't sure she wanted him to know how much this meant, Carrie eagerly kissed him back. It was still only soft, a tender kiss that sought not to ignite her, but to remind her…to remind her that although things felt strange between them, nothing had changed.

It was a soft sound from Judith that made them stop. Though she seemed unconcerned by their activities, Judith gave a small grunt as she got comfortable against Rick's shoulder. It was enough to remind them both of where they were, of that they shouldn't be kissing in the middle of dark hallways…what if Carl was awake? With disappointment, Carrie let him break their kiss, but she was glad when he lingered a moment longer. Just as before, she waited with bated breath for him to do something else, for him to speak. When he finally did, it was in a low whisper.

"Welcome to Alexandria."


	4. Chapter 4

To help ease the agony of episode 616, I decided to post the next chapter early this week! Chapter five will be out this weekend too, so the double up will hopefully ease the agony of our sad, lonely Sunday's.

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If Rick had intended for his kiss to help her sleep that night, he was sorely mistaken. For the remaining hours until dawn came, Carrie was certain that she didn't get another wink of sleep, her heart still pounding. As the two parted and went to their separate bedrooms, Carrie longed for the possibility that he'd join her, that he'd silently come through her bedroom door and slip into bed with her. A good romp in the sack would have definitely helped her sleep…even an only semi-decent romp would have been better than nothing. But Rick's responsibilities kept them separate throughout the rest of the night, not that she blamed him for prioritising them.

Spending the rest of her first night in Alexandria alone in her bed, Carrie had restlessly awaited dawn, perhaps getting a little sleep in between her thoughts about Rick. It was nice to know that they were still on the same page, and when she finally arose the following morning, it was with a spring in her step. She rose early just before seven o'clock, though in comparison to the supply run this ought to be considered a sleep in. Little rays of light streamed in from the blinds, and after she dressed in the yoga pants and tank top she had worn yesterday, Carrie gladly opened them. There were four windows in her bedroom, each of them framing a different view of Alexandria, ones which she took the time to admire. There was no sign of activity outside, but the weather looked sunny and nice just as it had been yesterday.

With that in mind, she put on the bright orange and pink sneakers she had taken from Walmart, using her brand new hairbrush to fix her hair and tie it back into a pony tail. Going about her new morning routine, most of which she was still figuring out, she washed her face and applied a little moisturiser, and then in a state of disbelief she actually made her bed. This too was something she hadn't done for quite a long time, and the simple act of straightening the sheets and tucking them under the mattress was soothing. No matter how busy her life had been, no matter how badly she was running late, Carrie had always made her bed with care. It was the only thing her housekeeper never had to do for her. Feeling warm with satisfaction, she took a deep breath before quietly opening her bedroom door and looking out.

Despite the early house, she was unsurprised that it appeared Carol and Michonne were awake already, their bedroom doors left open. Leaving her own bedroom door open too, Carrie crept across the threshold, not wanting to awaken anyone left sleeping in the master bedroom, whose double doors were the only ones left closed. Feeling surprisingly inquisitive, she paused and then peered into Michonne's bedroom, amused to see she hadn't yet unpacked her belongings from the supply run, and then peered into Carol's bedroom. It was decorated just like her own and Michonne's, the double bed neatly made and the few personal items neatly organised, but it was the personal item that sat on the bed pillows that caught her attention. It was a rag doll wearing a pink dress with two brown plaits that took Carrie's interest. At the prison she'd seen Daryl taking it out of one of the cells, carefully wrapping it in a pillow case and then putting it safely into his own pack.

It didn't take much to imagine that the doll must have belonged to someone Carol loved, most likely a daughter, but she knew better than to ask. These days, details of a person's life were shared only when they were ready to…at least that's how it ought to be anyway. Although she and Carol had made some small talk over a pot of tea the previous night, Carrie had learnt over time to limit her questions, to not pry. Looking away from the doll and ignoring her curiosity over it, she quietly slipped down the stairs, smiling as she detected the aroma of freshly brewed coffee. Though she had politely refused all offers of coffee while they were on supply run, having an intense dislike for instant, the coffee Michonne had made yesterday had tasted absolutely divine. Eagerly making her way over to the coffee pot, she poured herself a mug and took a sip. Enjoying the taste immensely, she remembered to be a good house mate, noticing that the pot was low. Rick and Daryl were sure to be down soon, and they too would like their own cup. Putting in a new coffee filter, she added some more grinds and set it to brew.

Carrying her mug with her, Carrie slowly wandered around the kitchen and living areas, wondering why the blinds were still closed now that it was daylight. She was tempted to open them, but she hesitated…if Michonne and Carol were already awake, there was probably a reason they hadn't been opened yet. Wondering where they had gone, she yawned as she began taking a look around. She had familiarised herself with the house yesterday, but the solitude now gave her the opportunity to look a little longer. Just like Deanna's, this house was comfortably furnished and nicely decorated by whoever had lived here prior, but Carrie could see the little touches that clearly made this home belong to Rick's group. Aside from Michonne's ceramic cat on the mantle piece and her katana above it, the biggest indication that this was a family home was Judith. Her bottles were drying on the kitchen bench, and her toys and books were neatly organised in a plastic tub in the corner. The little touches that indicated her presence were sweet and homely.

Looking around a little more, Carried wandered into the dining room and admired the personal items on display. There were a few pictures in frames, and her eyes honed in on the one she had seen Carl putting up yesterday, ones they had retrieved from the prison. Of the three people in the photograph she recognised only two of them, although Rick and Carl looked considerably different than they did now. Considering the third face, Carrie knew that the woman with long dark hair had to be Lori. She studied her face carefully, knowing only very little about Rick's late wife. Understandably, he didn't bring her up much, the subject not really making for great pillow talk. Still, she was curious to learn about Lori, to know more about the woman who's loss had hurt Rick so badly. On that subject, she noticed another photograph, this one featuring people Glenn had already shown her photographs of. This one, perhaps developed from an instant camera, was of quite a few people, but the faces she was drawn to were Beth and Herschel, two more that she would never know, but who's deaths had been major blows. There was another photograph from an instant camera, and though she didn't recognise many of the faces, the fact that Glenn, Carol and Rick were in it indicated that it had been taken after the outbreak. Knowing she would never keep up with the group's extensive history together, she peered at the unknown faces, wondering if the infamous Shane was among them.

The sound of crying brought Carrie from her thoughts, her heart beginning to pound as a feeling of unease came over her. It took a moment of listening to determine that it had to be Judith, but even then she did not relax. As Judith's cries fell silent, there was a brief moment of reprieve before she started again, and this time she sounded genuinely distressed by something. Carrie's instincts telling her that something wasn't quite right, she slowly walked towards the hallway and looked towards the staircase and listened. Although the sound was clearly coming from the master bedroom upstairs, it was also coming from the living room behind her, the two sources echoing in an alarming chorus. Paralysed by confusion, she wondered where Rick was, why he wasn't comforting his daughter. Was he alright? Had something happened to he or Carl during th-

Carrie gave a yelp of surprise when she heard sudden movement from behind her, and she turned just as a dark silhouette arose out of thin air. By the time her brain caught up with her and she recognised Daryl standing up from the couch where he must have been sleeping, she'd already embarrassed herself and spilt half her coffee. Clearing his throat and rolling his shoulders back, Daryl just shook his head at her in exasperation.

"You better switch to decaf, Blondie," he muttered as he passed her and headed for the stairs.

Putting the pieces together, she slowly realised how silly she had been, and she took a slow breath to stem her momentary uncertainty. She was caught in the uncomfortable limbo between understanding that she was safe here in Alexandria, and her instincts still telling her to be on alert for absolutely anything. But things were different now, and a crying baby wasn't reason to be alarmed. Slowly walking into the living room, she looked at the video baby monitor that sat on the coffee table, its presence explaining the dual sources of sound that had put her ill at ease. Picking it up, she felt a pang of sympathy as she looked at Judith in her crib.

She was standing at the rails and looking into the bed, crying as she came to realise no one was there, that she was alone. A moment later her expression changed, her cries fading as light filled the room from the open door. Daryl was there now. Though she felt like she was spying, Carrie watched a moment longer, stunned by the sweet way Daryl soothed her as he picked her up from the crib. While it was nice to see the paternal side of Rick, it was downright odd to see it from Daryl…he didn't seem like the type to soothe a baby so expertly, and yet here he was, doing exactly that. As Daryl picked her up, Judith fell completely silent.

"I know, Ass-Kicker," he muttered gruffly though the baby monitor. "Daddy's gone, you're brother's gone, and you're stuck with me. Life's a bitch, ain't it…"

Laughing at this, Carrie suspected Daryl wouldn't have said that in front of Rick or Carol. Unable to see anything other than the empty crib, she put the baby monitor down and then hastily cleaned up the coffee she had spilt near the hallway. Figuring that she and Daryl were the only ones left in the house, she went about opening the downstairs blinds, still wondering where everyone else had gotten to so early. Straightening the couch pillows and neatly folding the blanket, she felt badly that Daryl was sleeping on the couch while she took his bedroom, despite Michonne's assurance that he likely would have slept on the couch either way. She didn't imagine that Daryl put much value in a nicely decorated bedroom with it's own en suite. With a pang of guilt, she remembered the previous night when she had come down to make herself to tea, having completely forgotten that Daryl was asleep in the living room. She hoped she hadn't awoken him.

When Daryl and Judith appeared a few minutes later, Carrie couldn't hide the smile that appeared on her face. For all Daryl's gruff and indifferent attitude, he was clearly smitten with Judith, and she suspected Judith felt the same. Content on Daryl's hip, she held a piece of dark brown fabric against her chest, blearily rubbing her eyes as she looked around. There was a flash of disappointment on the little girl's face when she saw only Carrie, and she suspected that she was looking for Rick or Carol.

"Mornin'," Daryl greeted her properly now, grabbing a high chair from the corner and bringing it to the end of the bench. He tried to put Judith in it, but when she made soft protest he held her on his hip for a little while longer. "You eat yet?"

"Not yet."

"You don't gotta wait for permission, you know."

"I know, thanks."

Leaving his fussing at that, Daryl turned his attention to Judith now. "You want oatmeal or toast?"

Clearly knowing what she wanted, Judith pointed to one cupboard in particular, but when Daryl opened it and looked inside, he shook his head. "No, you ain't allowed them." Unhappy with this remark, Judith tried to protest. "No. Daddy says you can't have Froot Loops. You don't even like 'em, girl!"

Judith appeared to disagree with this, and she insistently pointed to the box. Grumbling to himself, Daryl took the packet down and shoved his hand inside, pulling out a pink piece of cereal. He and Carrie both watched as Judith slowly took it and brought it to her mouth, looking rather pleased that she had won until she started pulling a face. Shaking her head, she took it out of her mouth and tried to give it back.

"No, you wanted it, you eat it," Daryl told her sternly, putting the box back in the cupboard. "You want oatmeal or toast? Oatmeal or toast?" He suddenly smiled at her, easily interpreting the sounds she made to communicate. "Alright, both."

Successfully putting her into her high chair now, he took away the brown piece of fabric she was clutching, ignoring her shout of protest. Telling her to behave herself, he passed her a sippy cup of water and then got to work, taking a loaf of bread from the pantry and slicing off a piece. Amused by their antics, Carrie watched the two of them as Daryl put the bread into the toaster. Waiting until Daryl wasn't looking, Judith got Carrie's attention and then held out the soggy Froot Loop she didn't want, offering it to her. Stifling her laughter, Carrie just shook her head, nearly laughing again at what Judith did next. Checking on Daryl again, she simply dropped the Froot Loop to the floor and then thought no more of it. When Daryl put a plastic plate with peanut butter on toast in front of her, she cheerfully dove in, ignoring Daryl's scolding when he noticed what she had done with the Froot Loop.

"She's got you wrapped around here," Carrie teased, holding up her little finger as Daryl began making a bowl of oatmeal.

"No, she ain't," he denied hotly. "She's knows who's in charge."

"I like the way you talk to her," she added next. "You know, without baby talk."

He just shrugged at this, ignoring the compliment. "She can't talk, but she ain't dumb. She knows what we're sayin'."

"How did you get so good with kids?"

Again, he just shrugged. "Kids are easy…they'll like anyone who feeds or plays with 'em. They ain't got no judgement neither."

Carrie nodded in agreement, suspecting that Daryl's nature hadn't earned him much likability from some of the more conservative Alexandrian's. To Carrie though, that was their loss.

Holding out a crust, Judith called out and got Daryl's attention.

"Eat the crust," he told her shortly. "It's food."

Judith's expression fell at his refusal, and when she realised he wouldn't budge the corners of her mouth turned downwards. Sticking her bottom lip out, it began quivering as she started to cry a little, protesting as she insistently held out the crust.

"Don't gimme that look, Lori," he told her, emphasising the name he called her. "It don' work on me."

"A'moh!" Judith insisted, managing to squeeze a single tear from her eyes.

"Oh," Daryl said apologetically, understanding now. "Yah want more? Well stop licking it off, just eat the damn thing."

Carrie smiled as he took the piece of crust and smeared on a tiny bit more peanut butter, satisfying Judith's request. She took it back happily, but did indeed simply just lick it off. Her second request for more peanut butter was refused this time, the blow softened by the arrival of her bowl of oatmeal. Thoroughly pleased, she ignored Daryl's attempt to feed her and went about the task herself, dipping the soggy crust into the bowl and eating it that way. Leaving her be, he poured himself a cup of coffee and topped Carrie's up too.

"Yah want some breakfast?' he offered her.

"Only if you'll spoon feed me like Judith," she teased.

He snorted in derision. "You gonna bite the hand that feeds yah? Alright, I see how it is."

Laughing, she thanked him, accepting his offer of toast. Just as it was unusual to see everyone from the supply run in their homes and at ease, it was odd to see Daryl in such a domestic environment, cooking toast and looking after a baby. The three of them ate in silence for a little while, Daryl keeping an eye on Judith as she slowly dipped the toast into her oatmeal.

"So, what do yah think?" he enquired.

"Of your toast? Expert level, well done."

Rolling his eyes, he gestured to the windows. "Of this place."

"It's….nice," she said honestly. "Safe," she added when Daryl scoffed a little.

"Mmm, it's safe," he agreed. "Safe enough for now anyway. What do you think of the people?"

"I haven't really met any besides your group."

"Lucky you."

"Oh?"

"They're living in fantasy land. They think the shit out there ain't gonna get in one day."

Carrie sighed. "It will," she agreed. "So, where is everyone?"

"Carol's at Natalie's place. Michonne and Rick are out doing their rounds."

"Rounds?"

Daryl nodded, pulling a face at Judith. "Yeah. They go out, keep an eye on the place, check the walls."

"And Carl?'

"He's probably on gate duty until they get back." He sighed, drinking his coffee before glancing at her. "You gonna go out there sometime?"

"Outside the walls? Yeah. Rick said you'd take me hunting with you."

Choking on his coffee, Daryl looked at her in alarm, his expression reminding her of the time she had asked for a try of his crossbow. Daryl really was just too easy to wind up. Realising she had been teasing, he just narrowed his eyes and then looked back at Judith.

"I'd like to go out sometime," she answered his question. "Maybe for a jog or something. I think I'd go stir crazy if I only ever left to do supply runs."

Daryl nodded, agreeing with her.

"I noticed you couldn't wait to get out," she commented. "You were gone all afternoon yesterday."

"I was hunting" he answered shortly.

"I figured. You catch anything?"

He looked at her with a wry expression. "What do you think?"

Carrie just smiled at him, not needing to give an answer.

"Could yah watch her for me?" he requested, gesturing to Judith as he picked up his coffee. "I could use a smoke."

"Oh," she began, slightly alarmed at the thought. "W-what do I do with her?"

"Nothin'," he said shortly, not understanding her apprehension. "Just make sure she don't try to eat the bowl."

"Alright," she agreed, having no other choice considering Daryl was halfway out the door.

Both she and Judith watched him go, and Carrie was relieved that he didn't appear to go any farther than the front porch. She looked back at Judith now, surprised to find that although she was content in her company, she appeared to be closely scrutinising her. Smiling uncomfortably, she waited for Judith to start crying or something, relieved when she did nothing of the sort. Seeing the opportunity, and likely figuring her to be an easy target, Judith picked up her crust and held it out to Carrie.

"Moh?"

Understanding what she wanted, Carrie hesitated before standing up. The crust was soggy and covered in oatmeal, but she satisfied Judith's request for more peanut butter.

"I'm not above buying your approval," she muttered, giving it back to her.

Pleased that she had found an easy target, Judith grinned as she took the crust back, licked off the peanut butter and then held it out again. "Moh?" She looked at Carrie expectantly, already knowing what would happen next.

Figuring this would be a repeated request, Carrie acquiesced one more time and then quickly put the peanut butter back in the cupboard, hoping that would be enough to deter Judith. She seemed happy enough now, having determined that Carrie was pretty easy to wrap around her finger. Perhaps babies could sense weakness in adults…she seemed smart enough to play on that. Thankfully she heard the sound of two people arriving, recognising Rick and Carol's voices. As she too heard them, Judith turned around in her high chair and listened intently, calling out loudly when she recognised them. When they didn't come in immediately, she called out again, sounding a little impatient.

"Yes, Miss Grimes?" Rick greeted her, finally coming inside the house. "What do you want?"

While Judith babbled happily, Carrie looked at Rick in astonishment, trying to hide the wide smile that was trying to cross her face. He was completely clean shaven this morning, the loss of his short beard showing off his jaw and mouth in greater detail. He certainly looked different, and it took Carrie a moment to realise that despite how much she had liked his short beard, God damn…she liked him without it too. She could observe the shape and colour of his lips now, and upon noticing this she couldn't help but think about how much she'd like to kiss him. It would certainly be different, that was for sure.

He glanced at her now, but if he picked up on her staring at him he pretended not to notice. "Good morning," he greeted her politely, picking up Judith's spoon and scraping the bowl for her.

"Good morning," she replied, averting her eyes before Carol caught her.

As Daryl and Carol lingered on the porch, discussing their plans for that day, Carrie got up and cleared the breakfast plates, emptying the crumbs into the compost and stacking the dishwasher. As she worked she watched Rick from the corner of her eye, observing the way he hustled Judith to finish the last of her oatmeal. She couldn't quite get over how different he looked, the way the loss of his beard highlighted features she didn't realise he had. His cheek bones and jaw were more evident now, as were his expressions as he helped Judith. His smile was easier to detect now, the curve of his lips echoed in his eyes…or perhaps it was just Judith bringing it out of him. Either way, he looked vastly different. She could more easily recognise the man in the family photograph she had seen in the living room.

"Are you done?" he asked Judith, showing her the empty bowl. "Do you want more?"

She shook her head. "Ta," she said at his prompting, grinning at him.

Without fuss Rick quickly wiped her hands and face before picking her up, grimacing at the mess she had made. He went to leave with her, but at Judith's loud protesting he turned around as he remembered something. Rolling his eyes, he grabbed the piece of brown fabric that Daryl had confiscated while she ate her breakfast. Satisfied, Judith clutched the fabric and let Rick put her down in the living room, happily peering into the plastic tub of toys when he tipped it over for her. Seeing that she was well occupied, he came back into the kitchen and ushered Carrie away from the highchair.

"I'll clean it," he insisted, taking the cloth from her hands.

She felt a spark when their hands innocently touched, but she kept a straight face and mentally told herself to settle down. There were other things to think about, things other than how much she wanted to kiss him and rub her hand over his jaw.

"When are we starting with the supplies?" she asked, keen to get started as soon as possible. Already she felt antsy to be occupied with a task, unsure of how she would fill her time otherwise.

Checking his watch, Rick answered. "Abraham is already getting ready. I've just got to get Judith dressed and pack her bag."

"Where's she going?"

"She'll spend the day with Jessie." Grabbing what looked like a lunch box, he began filling it with various snacks, choosing some crackers, raisins and what looked like a home made muesli bar. Taking out the left over lasagne they had eaten last night, he cut a portion and put it into a tupperware container, tossing it into the lunch box before adding two empty bottles with some powdered formula. "I can introduce you to her if you like."

"To Jessie?"

He nodded. "You'll probably like her. She's not too…too much."

"That would be nice, thanks. She's the one who does hair cuts, right?"

"Yeah," he nodded, giving her a strange look.

"What?"

"Nothing," he quickly denied, looking away as Carol got his attention.

"We're heading to the trucks," Carol told him. "I'll send Carl back to have some breakfast."

"Thanks."

As she and Daryl departed, Carrie tried not to smile as she realised they they were alone now, and while a part of her wanted to try and do something about that, she decided against it. They had work to do, things to accomplish. Looking at Rick now, she could tell that the same thought had just crossed his mind, so this time she didn't bother hiding her smile. There was a long pause where they looked at each other across the kitchen, Rick no doubt thinking about the too brief kiss they had shared last night…Carrie sure was.

"Is there anything I can do to help?" she enquired, perhaps a little too politely.

He nodded slowly, clearing his throat. "You can pack her a few books and toys, please," he requested, fetching a purple back pack from the closet by the front door.

"No problem."

Leaving it at that, Rick swooped down on Judith and picked her up, blowing a raspberry onto her cheek when she wriggled around. As he disappeared upstairs to get her dressed, Carrie tried to make her best judgement on which particular things to pack for her, deciding that the ones she had been playing with then were a good guess. She tried to finish cleaning up the kitchen, but with very little that actually needed to be done, she took a seat at the island bench and then waited, eager to get to work.

Rick and Judith came back down a few minutes later, Judith fully dressed in a cute little dress and white tights. Hoisting Judith further up his hip, he clenched his jaw as he struggled to hang on to the items he had under his other arm. "Here, would you mind?"

Without giving it a second thought, Rick held Judith out to her. Rather intimidated, Carrie cautiously took her from him, holding her under the arms before awkwardly settling her onto her hip. Judith's expression matched Carrie's internal thoughts, and she looked up at her in abject horror. As though she didn't quite trust Carrie to hold onto her properly, Judith clung to her tank top, her legs flailing as she looked around for Rick. As he stuffed Judith's bag with a spare set of clothing, diapers, wipes and a pacifier, he glanced up and gave a low laugh.

"What?" Carrie asked in embarrassment, wondering how obvious it was that she wasn't used to holding a baby.

"Nothing," he smiled, coming over to her.

Carrie held her breath, wondering if he was going to kiss her, momentarily certain that he was. But instead he took the hand she had resting under Judith's diaper and moved it further around, settling it on her thigh instead. Next he repositioned Judith up a little higher and settled her into the curve of Carrie's waist, the position much more comfortable for both of them. Looking at Judith, she was relieved to note that she looked infinitely happier now, and her grip on Carrie's tank top eased up a little.

"Better?" His hand lingered on the top of her arm, and she wondered if he was doing that on purpose.

"Yeah. Thanks."

Not teasing her uncertainty, Rick just went back to the his former task, stuffing a few more things into the front pocket before giving the sippy cup a thorough wash. As they waited, Carrie tentatively smiled at Judith, relieved when she smiled back at her. Admiring the pretty dress Rick had chosen and the way her blonde hair curled at the base of her neck, Carrie thought that maybe she wasn't so scary after all.

"She's cute," she complimented.

"Thanks," he said, throwing the purple back pack over his shoulder. "Less so at three o'clock in the morning."

"I bet."

Putting a wide brimmed hat onto Judith's head, Rick headed for the front door and opened the coat closet, taking out a folded up stroller. The three of them set off for Jessie's, passing Carl as he returned to have some breakfast before starting work. Enjoying the sunshine, Carrie happily carried Judith for the short walk to Jessie's house, saying hello to Maggie and Tara who were eating breakfast on their front porch. The walked in comfortable silence up to Jessie's house, but from the corner of her eye she could see Rick looking over at her. Feeling a familiar jolt in the pit of her stomach, she wondered if he was checking on Judith or looking down the front of her tank top…with the way Judith was holding the front of it, the latter was quite plausible.

Upon arrival at Jessie's house, Rick knocked on the red front door and expertly opened the stroller, snapping the braces into place and leaving it on the front porch for Jessie to use. Watching through the glass panes as a blonde woman approached, Judith started fussing in Carrie's arms, sounding rather excited. The moment the front door opened Judith was leaning out of her arms towards Jessie, who greeted them all with a laugh of delight.

"Good morning, Judy," she smiled, getting the hint and taking her. As she settled her onto her waist, she smiled again before turning to Rick and Carrie. "Come on in guys. Sam?" she called out. "Judy's here."

Following her inside, Carrie relaxed a little, instinctually knowing that she liked Jessie already. Just as she had come to expect, Jessie's house was as comfortably furnished as everyone else's, but her slightly bohemian style definitely shone through. In the corner stood an easel and canvass, but whatever it was she had painted was hidden beneath a black sheet.

"You must be Carrie," Jessie began, ticking Judith who was trying to get her attention. "I'm Jessie, it's nice to meet you."

"Nice to meet you too," she smiled genuinely. "I've heard lots about you."

"And you," Jessie countered. "From the sound of it, we're as lucky to have you as we are Rick's group."

Carrie laughed in surprise. "That's nice of you to say," she muttered, watching as Rick put Judith's bag on the kitchen counter. As though this was a normal routine, he quickly unpacked it all and started filling Jessie in.

"She's been biting her thumb a lot, so there's extra band aids in the front pocket, as well as some Orajel. There's Tylenol in the side if she needs it, she hasn't had any today. I've packed her pacifier just in case she gets really fussy."

"She'll be fine," Jessie assured him. "Besides, you or Carol won't be far."

"Yeah, I won't be going outside the walls today," he agreed, putting the lunch box into Jessie's fridge. "The stroller is on the porch, and there's spare clothes in the bag too. Just hand her off to one of us as soon as you're sick of her."

"Never," Jessie grinned, glancing back as she heard someone on the stairs. "Pete's so excited about today, he can't wait to see what you got for the infirmary. He's like a kid at Christmas."

"Mr Grimes!" A whirlwind of blonde hair burst into the kitchen, a young boy arriving with great excitement. He spared Carrie a brief glance, but it was clear he was most excited by Rick. "Mom said I can help you today."

"No," Jessie corrected him hastily. "I said you can help your dad in the infirmary. You'll only get in Rick's way."

Catching the look of relief on Rick's face, Carrie hid her grin as Jessie introduced her to her Sam. A few minutes passed quickly, and before she knew it they were leaving, Rick having lingered long enough to make sure Judith had everything she needed. It was endearing to see him fussing like that, having always thought that it was only mothers who did that type of thing, not fathers. When he kissed Judith goodbye and headed for the door she began to cry loudly, wailing and reaching out for him despite Jessie's attempts to soothe her.

"Go, just go," Jessie waved him off, seeing him hesitate. "You'll only make it worse if you stay."

Taking her at her word, Rick just nodded, he and Carrie leaving without further ado. Not hiding her smile any more, Carrie watched the way Rick's jaw tightened as he listened to Judith crying, and when they reached the pavement outside he stopped for a moment, listening. Barely ten seconds after their departure, Judith's wails fell silent, and not another sound was heard from her…a moment later Rick relaxed.

"She does that to me all the time," he muttered glumly, glancing back at the house as the two of them headed for the trucks. "She cries when I go, but she's only pretending."

Carrie laughed at this, amused by how he had momentarily struggled to leave. "She knows what she's doing, I'll give her that," she chuckled, thinking about the extra peanut butter Judith managed to wrangle out of her.

"Yes, she does," he agreed.

Reaching the five vehicles, Carrie was unsurprised to find that there were already people there, Abraham tilting his head as he peered into the back of the new truck, recalling the precise contents and trying to plan accordingly. As they waited, Rick made a few introductions for her, introducing her to Pete and then a few of the other women. They made small talk with Erin and Anna for a short while, and then typical of most men, Rick practically abandoned her. His attention diverted by someone else who needed him, Carrie quickly found herself alone with the other women, but to her relief they neither pestered her nor bothered her. In fact, just like her they were keen to get stuck into the work of unpacking the supplies, and when Rick caught her eye apologetically, realising what he had done, Carrie gave him a short nod.

"Carrie," Deanna greeted her, turning up out of no where. "How are you?"

"I'm good, thanks," she replied honestly, noting that the others slipped away to give them some privacy.

"You've settled in well? Are there any problems?"

"No, of course not. Everyone's been great."

"Good, I'm glad," Deanna smiled, and just like she always did, it sounded like she truly meant it. "Well I don't know about you, but I'm ready to get stuck in to these supplies."

"Yeah, me too."

Hearing Abraham calling them all to attention, Carrie and Deanna headed over to join the growing crowd at the back of the truck. Nervous, she glanced at the many faces who were looking at her, curiously peering in her direction but pretending they weren't. Already beginning to feel like an animal in the zoo, she breathed a long sigh of relief when Tara and Noah slipped through the crowd towards her, flanking her on each side as if to protect her.

"Thanks, guys," she said gratefully.

"For what?" Noah frowned, but the small smile in the corner of his mouth indicated he knew what she meant.

"You know what for," she muttered, trailing off as Abraham began barking his orders.

"Divide yourself in two! One group will be taking…"

Listening to his instructions, Carrie felt her nervousness turning into excitement, that feeling growing as she looked into the back of the truck. A sense of accomplishment and pride struck her, remembering that she had helped bring back all of this stuff, that despite the group having saved her, she'd worked herself hard to contribute, to pull her weight. Now that she was here in Alexandria, with even more members of her new group surrounding her, her sense of hope and awe was renewed.

It was difficult already…but she knew she could handle this.

* * *

It was barely nine o'clock in the morning, but already Rick felt like he had put in a full day of work. He'd slept on and off last night, awakening both to the innocent sounds of the night, and to Judith, whose descending tooth was causing them both a headache. He'd been up with her for a fair bit throughout the night, and just as he was ready to get up around five thirty, Judith all but passed out in his arms…it was a cruel twist that she went to sleep the moment he needed to get out of bed. Successfully putting her into her crib without awakening her, Rick simply got up and went about his day, knowing that there were many things to do.

He and Michonne had a prior agreement to get outside the walls before everyone else awoke, having arranged to meet Sasha out there too. When Carl had also roused, desperate to make himself useful, Rick had taken advantage of his eagerness. Asking Daryl to keep watch over Judith while she slept, Rick, Michonne and Carl had headed for the armoury, their apologies for waking up Olivia only half hearted. Arming themselves, they left Carl on gate duty and joined Sasha to make their rounds of the outside. He'd been out once the previous afternoon, but it had only been a quick look around as the sky grew dark, and he hadn't made time to properly look for the Walkers with the W.

It hadn't taken them long to find one that morning, and while Michonne kept watch Rick and Sasha took the time to carefully scrutinise the markings on the Walker's forehead. Drawing on everything he had learnt from the police force, he carefully assessed the cuts, trying to determine if they had been made before or after the person had been killed. The cuts were straight and neat, with no indication that the victim had thrashed around in pain. Just as Carol had told him last night, the Walkers with the W didn't appear to have been killed by the dead. As they walked around the walls and looked at each of them, Rick took care to pull back the clothing and assess the injuries, seeing only stabs and slashes that indicated cause of death, not bites or scratches. This knowledge was not of comfort to him, particularly given that he and Carrie had seen a Walker with the W further south two days prior.

Thinking of Carrie, Rick couldn't help but smile to himself…as awkward as it might feel now that they were now room mates, there was no denying that the spark was still there. He'd taken a chance with her earlier that morning, kissing her in the middle of the dark hallway, relieved when she kissed him back. They would need to make time to talk, to simply catch up with one another, and then things would get easier. Once the fuss from unpacking the supplies had died down and normal life resumed, they would better understand the parameters of their relationship. Thinking about that morning, he smiled in amusement as he pictured the awkward way she had been holding Judith, scolding himself for just assuming she'd be comfortable with a baby she didn't know. The worried look on Carrie's face was nothing compared to Judith's horror, the little girl clutching at Carrie's tank top in fear of being dropped by this strange person.

When he'd gone to help her, to adjust the way she was holding Judith, Rick had to fight down the overwhelming urge to kiss her. He was close enough for sure, all he had to do was lean over a few inches and press his lips against hers, but for some reason he had resisted. The few short minutes they had spent together that morning had been pleasant, enjoyable even…he couldn't help but look forward to more of those moments, even though he wasn't supposed to. They were friends with benefits, nothing more…nevertheless, friends could still enjoy one another's company.

Turning to his side to look for her, he cringed when he found that she wasn't there, immediately realising he had forgotten to stay with her. Looking around, he found her standing at a distance, making polite small talk with Anna and her daughter Hayley, and he caught her eye apologetically, relieved when she just smiled and nodded. He was always being pulled in ten different directions, and it was easy to find himself being distracted from the more important tasks.

"Where did all of the surveillance equipment end up?" Rick enquired, trying to get back to the task at hand. Walking up the ramp into the back of the truck, he took out his flashlight and shone it around.

"The cameras from Walmart?" Abraham enquired. "They went in a box somewhere."

"I thought I saw them going into a bag," Aaron piped up. "One of those giant stripy ones."

"Nah," Daryl corrected them all, standing outside the truck with a cigarette. "They went in the back o' the minivan. Put 'em there myself."

"Well they're not there now."

"No," he agreed. "We put 'em on the truck when we got the new one."

Rick sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Which brings me back to my original question…where did they end up?"

"What you so worried for, Princess?" Daryl enquired, raising his eyebrows. "Here, you better 'ave a puff of this," he teased, holding out his cigarette.

Feeling his heart leap, Rick looked around for Carl, breathing a sigh of relief when he saw that his son wasn't within ear shot. "Really funny, Daryl."

"I didn't know you smoked," Aaron frowned.

"I don't!"

Snorting at his expense, Daryl stubbed the butt out and stuck it into the packet, knowing he couldn't get away with tossing them onto the street now he was home. When he joined them in the truck, it seemed his teasing was not finished. "He's all sensitive about it. Won't admit he fell off his high horse."

Sighing, Rick looked to Abraham for help, all but pleading for it. Taking pity, Abraham got them into gear, moving to the rear of the truck and calling out for the community to crowd around. Waiting until everyone had come within earshot, he stood in the truck and began his instructions.

"Divide yourselves in two!" he called out, his crisp and no fuss tone reminding Rick that he was a military man at heart. "One group will be taking this truck around to the pantry, the other will be taking the military truck down to the shipping container by the solar panels. Now listen up, because I'll only say this once. Any computers and surveillance equipment needs to go to Rick's garage. Anything that looks like it could be used for camping, such as sleeping bags, tents, stoves, small generators…that all goes to my garage. Glenn and Eugene will be there throughout the day managing this area.

"Food and toiletries goes to the empty garage next to the pantry, not in the pantry itself. I repeat, not one damn item goes into rotation today. Larger equipment such as generators, solar panels and heavy duty batteries will go in the shipping container. Any and all medical supplies ranging from hospital monitors to cough drops go to the infirmary. Gardening supplies such as tools, greenhouses and bags of soil can go directly to the vegetable patch across from Rick's house, and baby stuff goes to his garage too. Now this is the important part, Ladies and Gentleman, so stick your god damn ears on or I'll tear them off your head.

"You see a weapon among these supplies? You do no touch it. You see a knife or a machete? Leave it. You see guns, grenades, ammunition, or magazines? You leave your sticky fingers in your pockets where they belong. We were thorough, there shouldn't be a single firearm that is loaded, but unless you are one of those people whom I have already spoken to this morning, do not touch! Those other people I spoke to…report to Carl and his clipboard outside the pantry garage. He's in charge of weapons."

Listening to the surprised murmurs go around the community, Rick looked for his son in the crowd and found him, pleased to see that he looked happy with his assigned task. Abraham and Tobin would be nearby to help him should he need it, but his task for the day was a happy compromise between Rick wanting him to rest his leg, and Carl wanting to meaningfully contribute. Clearing and cataloging weapons could be done while sitting down, and there was enough of it to do to keep him occupied for the whole day.

"Is that clear as mud?" Abraham called out once more, looking around once more. "On a final note…supply runners. As per the usual understanding, aside from medical supplies and food, you can take whatever you please for your own use. That's your payoff for taking this risk…if you bagged yourself an iPad, or a fancy dancy coffee machine, or you somehow managed to squeeze a sixty two inch flat screen onto the truck without my knowledge, Aidan…grab it when you see it. It's yours to take. Lunch is at twelve, see Carol and Shelly for snacks. Let's move, people!"

Glad the day was starting, Rick stepped out of the truck and then pulled the roller door closed, letting Aaron jump in the front and drive it around to the pantry where they would be unloading it. There was a lot for them to do, a lot of supplies that would need to be transported to various locations around the community…thank God they had plenty of wheelbarrows. Originally there had been an organisational system in place for when they collected supplies on the run, but as time had progressed and the truck began running out of room, the system went to shit. They'd found far more than they expected at all three of their major locations, the prison, the underground bunker and Walmart, and they'd managed to cram it all into the trucks and cars, but at the expense of organisation. It only got worse when they transferred it to the newer, larger truck, for they were all so tired and frustrated that the mere thought of trying to organise it was laughable.

"Christ," Abraham muttered to Rick, looking worried. "Here she comes."

"Who?" he asked dimly, so caught up in thinking about the supplies that he had forgotten the other task he had to attend to that day. Looking around, he caught sight of Deanna making her way over to him, a polite smile on her face.

"Gloss it over, Rick," he said, clapping him on the shoulder. "Gloss it over."

"Wait, would you -"

"Nope," he said brusquely, already turning away and leaving. Knowing that Rick was going to ask him to do the debrief with Deanna, Abraham left nothing to chance. "Good luck."

"Asshole," he muttered under his breath, putting on his game face for Deanna. All she wanted was twenty minutes to go over the supply run, to get herself caught up and informed of all the things that happened. As everyone began dispersing, following the trucks and excited to start, Rick lingered as Deanna approached.

"Hey, Rick!" Ron Anderson called out, jogging over to him. "Hey, umm…Carl's working on the guns today?"

"Yeah, he is," he confirmed, glad for the momentary delay from Deanna.

"Well, I was wondering if I could help him," Ron asked hopefully, failing to hide his eagerness. "He said I had to ask you though."

Considering this, Rick glanced over at Carl who waited at a distance, trying to gauge what he thought of this. Catching his eye, Carl just shrugged at him, apparently unconcerned either way.

"You'll need to ask your parents for permission first, and then Abraham," he said, looking Ron up and down. He'd heard that he knew basic gun safety, though he hadn't verified this himself…still, he'd be working with Abraham and Carl's supervision. "He and Carl are in charge, alright?"

"Yeah, thanks Rick," Ron grinned, holding up his fist.

Bumping the teen's fist with his own, Rick kept a straight face as he looked at Ron's beanie. That damn thing annoyed him as much as Carl's reluctance to cut his hair…it seemed the older he got, the less he understood teenagers. As Ron rejoined Carl and they departed to find Pete, Rick headed over to Deanna, keen to get this over with.

"How do you think Carrie's settling in?" was her first enquiry.

As the two of them set off at a slow walk, Rick considered this question. Casting his eyes up the road, he looked at Carrie who was with Tara and Noah, heading towards the infirmary. "As well as can be expected…she's happy to be with us."

Deanna nodded in agreement. "Doesn't look like she got much sleep last night."

With this remark, Rick had to agree. "That's to be expected. It's hard to sleep alone again after you've spent three weeks sleeping side by side. She'll sleep better tonight," he assured Deanna.

"I hope so," she remarked, sounding concerned. There was a short pause, Deanna getting straight to business. "Shall we get the debrief covered? I'm sure they'll be fine without you for half an hour."

Hiding his reluctance, Rick nodded. "That sounds fine. I'd like to get Carl set up first," he remarked, feeling the need to remind Carl of the safety procedures that he already knew. "Can we meet in twenty minutes?"

"Of course, I understand. I'll make us a pot of coffee" Deanna paused, smiling up at him with the expression that made him feel like she was looking right through him, even though he knew she was barely scraping the surface. "It's good to have you back."

Extending all the pleasantries expected of him, he and Deanna parted ways, she returning to her home while he lingered out on the street by the infirmary. There was a peaceful moment as he looked around the community, a moment not unlike the one he had felt the day before when it began sinking in that he and his group had made it back. As he observed the hustle and bustle of the residents, listening to the roar of the military truck's engine as Abraham backed it up towards the shipping container, he sighed as he started thinking about the conversation he and Deanna were about to have. He wished he had heeded Carol's suggestion from last night, that despite his exhaustion he had pushed on for just a little while.

The bug Maggie had planted in the Monroe's living room would have recorded the first conversations Deanna and Aidan had together, and had he listened to the recording he would have had insight into exactly what she knew. Carol had been right, they should have listened last night so that he knew where exactly he and Deanna stood, what she did and did not know about the group's worse days on the supply run.

Thinking of everything that had happened with Carrie and Granger, and at the construction site too, he knew that the decisions he had made would no doubt be met with Deanna's disapproval…with this in mind, Rick knew he was going to have to tread very carefully with the things he said.

* * *

A/N I hope you all enjoyed the chapter, and particularly the scenes and situations we haven't seen our characters in yet on the TV show. One thing that I've really enjoyed writing about is the every day activities that go on in Alexandria, the small snippets of actual life that give people a reason to push through the more difficult. Thanks for reading, and please review :-) Kudos to AngieB.


	5. Chapter 5

The late afternoon sun was sweltering, and despite the hot Georgia summers he was accustomed to, Rick gratefully accepted a drink of cold water from Carol. Taking a few minutes to cool off under the shade cast between the first and second house, he looked at his watch and saw they had a little over two hours until sundown. The whole community had been working hard all day, each of them fulfilling roles of varying importance and effort, but contributing nonetheless. There was a good feeing among the residents, the atmosphere since the return of the supply runners having been more friendly and positive than when they had left.

Sipping at the cold water, Rick mentally ran through everything they had left the accomplish that afternoon, confident that it would all be completed. The minivan, Hyundai and delivery van had been cleared of all supplies, their engines checked over and then their exteriors washed, the vehicles now presiding outside the walls in Alexandria's makeshift car park. That left the mammoth task of both trucks, and they knew from experience that this was going to take a significant amount of time. It had been bad enough when they had been moving the contents from the truck they abandoned into the newer and bigger truck, but today's task was even greater.

With the necessity of sorting out all the supplies and getting them to the right places, the task had taken them all day, and although they had almost emptied the trucks themselves, the work had only just begun. Once the supplies were in the right location, they needed to be organised, properly stored and then catalogued for inventory. Despite their original intention to keep things organised on the supply run, to carefully arrange their supplies so that it would be easier to sort out later, Walkers and time constraints hadn't allowed for that. While they had left the military truck down by the shipping container, they had recently moved the larger truck to the road behind Rick's house. Having emptied all of the relevant goods into the pantry, that left only the electrical equipment, computers and camping supplies, goods that would need to be stored in the garages of both houses.

The small cup of cold water hadn't been enough, and so Rick retreated into the first house and indulged in a soda, something he had been very much looking forward to. Taking a seat at the kitchen bench, he rested his weary body as he wondered when would be his opportunity to get some rest, to sit and relax for a couple of hours. Such a luxury was difficult to actually engage in, Rick always struggling with the notion of relaxation, but he knew it was necessary. The supply run had been long and exhausting, more so than any of them anticipated…at some stage he would need to rest, but as for when, he didn't know. The Alexandrian's enjoyed going about their lives as though the days of the week really mattered, but Rick knew that despite it being Sunday tomorrow, the work to be completed was not going to take pause. He needed to get outside the walls, to check on the Walkers again, make plans for the surveillance cameras and Walker traps, to check out potential safe houses. Then Monday would bring Judith's birthday at the party Deanna wanted to throw, and then…

Sighing, Rick rubbed his forehead wearily. The rest of the week would bring more work, he had no doubt about that, but it was Monday he dreaded. He ought not to, for Judith's birthday should be a day of celebration, not mourning, but he knew that for he and Carl in particular, it would be the latter. It was difficult not to think about the things Carl had been saying to him lately, the small remarks that to him were minor, but to Rick were major. As could be expected, Carl wasn't ready to move on from his mother's death, not in any way…and logic dictated that Rick should not be ready either. The more he thought about this, the more guilt ran rampant in his heart, and the more confused he got. He wasn't over Lori's death, he hadn't recovered from what her loss meant to him…and yet he couldn't stop thinking about Carrie.

Still thinking about Monday, and the effort he would need to make to ensure that the day was a celebration for Judith, he dreaded what else would be happening. When he and Deanna had spoken that morning, she'd broken the ice by bringing up her desire to host a party, both to celebrate the return of the run crew, and to welcome Carrie to Alexandria. Given that compromise would be the key to helping the two groups integrate, Rick had accepted the suggestion without argument, unconcerned by the request to host it on Judith's birthday. Besides, he had more important things on his mind than Deanna's welcome party, and he needed to start their conversation off on the right foot.

That morning, he had reluctantly joined Deanna for coffee while the others got started on the supplies, the two of them needing to have a proper run through of both the supply run, and life back in Alexandria. After making some obligatory small talk and then discussing Judith's birthday and the party on Monday, Deanna gave him a run down of the mundane happenings in Alexandria.

"About the most exciting thing that happened was Natalie breaking her arm," she told him, topping up his mug of coffee. "Poor thing. She slipped over getting out of the bath tub."

"I'm glad she's alright," he said sincerely, thanking her as he took his mug back.

"Carol's been a God send looking after her, but it's a lot of work for one woman," she mused. "She's been delegating, thankfully. Shelly comes over and helps clean, and Erin…"

Letting Deanna talk, he had listened attentively, pleased to note that although nothing of significance happened, she seemed unaware of the Walkers with the W.

"Sasha told you about the Walkers with the W, right?" he began, testing Deanna. He'd spoken to Sasha that morning, who had assured him Deanna was well aware.

"Yes, of course. We're all aware of their presence in the surrounding areas. They've only just started appearing in the last three months…more so recently."

"Well I saw them as far south as Petersburg. Their numbers are increasing. There're people out there who we need to defend ourselves against."

To his frustration, although she seemed aware of the problem, she seemed unconcerned by it. "Yes," she nodded, saying all the right things, but without conviction. "It's certainly something to think about."

Taken aback by her nonchalance, Rick chose not to push the topic any further…with what happened on the supply run, and particularly Aidan's suspicion that Rick had killed people without provocation, he needed to tread very carefully. He had no qualms about defending himself to Deanna, but the fewer waves created, the better. The two groups had to integrate, it was essential. The Alexandrian's were not going to come around to his group's way of thinking if Rick continually kept putting up barriers between them…he had to bite his tongue. Instead, he launched into a general recap of the supply run's successes, starting first with the day he picked up Carrie, the prison, the underground bunker and Walmart. Nothing he told her seemed to cause significant interest until he brought up the problems they had experienced…the moment he mentioned the herd they encountered, he could see her interest piqued.

"This was when we first ran into the group from Ohio. Aaron told you about them yesterday, right?"

Deanna shrugged, likely wanting to hear the details from him. "Some things, yes."

"We don't know much about them, only that they're based in Ohio, that they're strong and they have enough numbers to send multiple run crews interstate. We ran into these run crews three times, and they were hostile." He paused, trying to gauge Deanna's thinking. Was she concerned about the threat, or about what Aidan had likely told her Rick had done to them? "It's not a stretch to imagine that one day, they'll find us here."

"I thought you evaded them," she remarked, sitting back in her chair as she scrutinised him. "I thought you took a long route home to throw them off your tracks."

"We did, but they know the area we're in, they know the direction we were heading. There are people out here, Deanna, people who have no qualms about who they hurt, or how. We're going to need to defend ourselves against them."

"Mmm," she nodded, sipping her coffee. "It's certainly something to think about."

Recognising this as a brush off, the same one she had made about the Walkers with the W, Rick knew he couldn't bite his tongue any longer. But before he could start his argument, Deanna spoke.

"Aidan told me about what happened in Franklin…with Carrie and Nicholas, and his own role too."

"He did?"

"Oh yes," she nodded grimly. "I take it the issue was…resolved?"

He looked at her in surprise. "It was."

"Good," she nodded, her mouth still set in a grim line. There was a long pause, and finally a slow smile came across her face, and she sat forward with a long sigh. "Rick…thank you."

"For what?"

"For Aidan. For…putting him in his place."

Rick raised his eyebrows at this. "I didn't expect you would approve," he remarked, remembering the way he had punched Aidan that night in Franklin, the way he had lost control of himself.

Shrugging, Deanna's smile did not fade. "I wouldn't say I approve. But Aidan told me what he did, that he didn't follow your instructions as requested, and what that meant for Carrie."

"You know I hit him, right?"

Deanna chuckled. "Well, I figured someone hit him. It was only last night he told me it was you," she smiled. She sat back in her chair, looking rather amused by his surprise. "Rick, I know my son. I know his flaws. He has the arrogance of three men, and a frustrating lack of maturity. While I don't approve of how you handled his mistake and dishonesty, I do hope he can learn some valuable life skills from your group. From you and Glenn in particular."

A number of replies ran through Rick's mind, and he settled on the most diplomatic. "I hope so too."

Still smiling at him, Deanna didn't allow the conversation to lapse. "Good…now, what else do we need to discuss?"

Despite his initial reservations about speaking with her, Rick ended up staying almost forty minutes, and though much about the community and the future had been discussed, only a few things had been agreed upon. He knew he shouldn't have expected much more than he got, but he was frustrated overall by Deanna's reluctance to see things his way. In one level, he must have been expecting the supply run to elevate his group's status and influence, and while that indeed seemed to be the case, it wasn't to the extent which they needed. There were many things in Alexandria that needed to change, and yet still Deanna couldn't see it. Nevertheless, Rick had come to a realisation he hadn't been able to see before…Deanna wasn't quite the great leader everyone made her out to be. She had many qualities and strengths that had helped Alexandria thrive, but her head was buried in the sand, as was everyone else's. In fact, he'd go as far as to say they were intentionally naive.

The walls that had protected them from the Walkers had also sheltered them from reality…she didn't understand the world, and therefore her people were not prepared for it. That was what kept Rick awake at night, that was what made him all the more determined to bring them around to his way of thinking…but it wasn't going to be easy, or fast. He was still the one she looked to as the leader of his family, and as the most direct source of knowledge and experience…knowledge and experience she seemed reluctant to draw upon. That was the part that frustrated him the most…she brought them here to help protect Alexandria, but she'd only let them use half measures.

Coming back to the present, Rick finished his soda and then rinsed the can out, knowing it could be reused for something else. Checking the time again, he decided to take a walk around the inside of the walls, and to check on Carl at the same time. Departing through the garage, he quickly checked in with Eugene, pleased that so far he seemed satisfied by the equipment that had been brought back for the surveillance system. With the promise that he would soon have a "sweet ass control room" set up, Rick made his way through the abundant and poorly organised supplies and started his rounds. Walking close by the walls, he listened for the sound of Walkers on the other side, knowing their noisy activities might have attracted some. They seemed to have been lucky however, for all seemed quiet. As he made his way around the side of his house and down towards the empty field opposite, he walked with his hand on his empty holster, still getting used the the notion that his Colt was locked away. For most of the day his hand had drifted to his empty holster, automatically seeking reassurance in the same way his eyes scanned around for Carl. Although they were safely inside the walls once again, Rick didn't let his guard drop completely.

Yet again, he started thinking about the Walkers with the W, cursing Deanna's reluctance to acknowledge them as a problem. If these people were near Alexandria now, then to Rick that was a very serious threat, one that needed to be addressed. Setting up a surveillance system and some deterrents would help, but they'd also need to keep a low profile if possible. Though he wasn't stupid enough to suggest it to Deanna, ideally, the expansion of the walls would have to wait for a while. It wouldn't do him well to tell her that, particularly given the few agreements he had managed to wrangle out of her that morning. His mind spinning with thoughts of safe houses, emergency bags and weapons training, Rick barely had the capacity to think about the wide open field opposite his house. In the future that would either be crops or livestock, depending on how long the expansion took. For now though, with Bob's quaint vegetable garden providing some fresh food and some to be preserved, Rick knew establishing proper gardens was the priority above livestock. Then again, what he wouldn't give for a nice, thick porterhouse steak…

Passing the side of Natalie and Bob's house, he headed past the gate and towards the watch tower, surprised to see a head full of blonde hair through the open window. Long blonde hair meant only a few people, and given he had just seen Jessie distributing cold drinks with Judith on her hip, and Stacey sitting outside the infirmary, Rick knew who it was in the tower. He briefly considered going up there, knowing that Carrie wasn't experienced enough to be taking watch alone. Though she was quite competent at the core task itself, her handling of anything other than her Ruger SR9 or a simple revolver left a lot to be desired. But a few moments later he stopped worrying, hearing an unusual sound from a familiar person. Sasha was up there too, and she was laughing. That alone was enough to make Rick linger a little more. As far as he figured, Sasha and Carrie hadn't met yet…how did they end up on watch together…laughing?

As if to answer his question, Carrie suddenly reappeared in the window, but this time she was climbing out of it. Easily slipping out of the narrow window, she stood on the scaffolding and then found herself safely back inside the walls. She looked down, and for a moment she managed to catch Rick's eye, finding him looking up at her. But she turned back around and continued talking to Sasha, the two of them laughing again. Waiting for her, Rick forced himself to avert his eyes, for from this angle he had the greatest view of Carrie's ass, made even better by the thin yoga pants she was wearing. He had intimate knowledge of precisely how great her ass was, of how good it felt beneath his hands when they fooled around. But feeling as though he'd been caught with his hand in the cookie jar, he avoided looking at her right now, despite how much he wanted to. He'd been distractible all day, his thoughts preoccupied by her, particularly the kiss he had given her at three o'clock that morning. He hadn't been able to help himself, needing to feel the intimacy of her lips against his…it had barely been two days since they were alone together, and he missed her more than he ought to.

"Hey, Rick," she called out to him cheerfully, peering down at him as she approached the ladder.

Returning the greeting, he gave Sasha in the tower a quick wave before steadying the ladder for Carrie.

"Thanks," she said when she came down, brushing dirt off her palms. "I was just taking Sasha a snack."

He nodded, feeling strangely nervous. "What were you two laughing about?"

Carrie grinned, her cheeks reddening as she looked away. "Nothing," she said evasively.

This was not reassuring. "How's your day going?" he enquired politely, the two of them walking side by side as he finished his rounds.

"Good," she answered automatically, though her smile faded a little. "Everyone's really nice. Yours?"

He considered his answer carefully. "Productive. Now tell me how your day really is."

Watching her from the corner of his eye, he saw the way her expression changed, her face dropping a little. "Honestly? Mostly good…"

"Mostly good," he repeated quietly, trying to interpret what that meant.

"The people are nice," she assured him. "But they're also…really overwhelming."

He nodded in agreement, remembering when he too was in her position. "Why don't you go home?" he suggested, trying to be helpful. "Call it a day."

"No," she shook her head. "No I'm fine, it's just strange. I'm not used to be around so many people, especially when they're all looking at me. Sasha and I were talking about the party on Monday night."

Rick groaned under his breath, dreading the very thought, and clearly Deanna had spread the word already. Gauging Carrie's reaction, he could tell that she was as apprehensive about the party as he had been. Despite the confident way in which she carried herself, Rick suspected that these days, the idea of being the very centre of attention set her on edge. Though the party was the last thing he wanted to talk about, for Carrie's sake he would bear it.

"What did she tell you about it?"

"That it would be as awful as I'm worried it will be."

Rick gave a short laugh, enjoying Sasha's version of reassurance. "That was kind of her."

"Yeah. She did promise though that no one will offer to cook me dinner. Apparently she made bit of a scene when someone asked her what her favourite meal was."

Laughing again, Rick nodded. At the time it hadn't been funny, particularly given that what Sasha had said that night conveyed everything the rest of them wanted to. Now though, they had no choice but to laugh about these things.

"Don't worry about the party. We'll all be there too. Besides, there'll be booze."

"Booze, huh?" she smiled, looking up at him. "What kind?"

"A variety."

"Red wine?"

Looking at her, he could see the mischievousness in her eyes, the cheekiness that indicated she was thinking about the last time she had enjoyed red wine. He too thinking back, he remembered the way they had kissed in the guard tower at the prison, that it had been sweet and somewhat innocent until they got back to C Block. Things had definitely escalated when they got back inside, the two of them drunk enough to not think too much, to act purely on desire.

"Yes, there will red wine," he assured her, doubling back and heading for the pantry, wanting to check on Carl. "But I will be sticking to soda."

"Why's that?"

"I'll have Judith."

"Oh," she sighed in disappointment. "That's too bad. I'm probably going to have a little too much to drink. Daryl might have to carry me home."

Laughing at the thought, he remembered how unsteady she had been on her feet that night at the prison. Still thinking about that night, and the other occasions that had followed between them, Rick couldn't help but feel warmth across the back of his neck, knowing it wasn't from the heat of the sun. Before he could stop himself, he was glancing down the front of her tank top, clenching his jaw as he tried not to smile. He looked away hastily, and if she caught him she didn't say anything…he'd done the same thing earlier too, noticing the way Judith was accidentally pulling the front of her top down.

Trying to rid himself of this train of thought, he gestured towards the road behind the townhouses, indicating their path. As they approached he noticed Carrie slowing down, and when he saw the apprehension in her eyes he knew what the problem was. There was a small crowd down this way, and the majority of the faces were those she didn't know…hell, Rick barely knew half of them. He looked at her sympathetically, remembering how even he had once felt intimidated by the sheer number of faces and names there were to remember. Though he wanted her company, he gave her a look that indicated his understanding, that assured her it was alright to bail.

"You know, I might head home after all," she said nonchalantly. "I'll see how the others are going back there."

"Alright," he nodded, glad that she was doing what made her comfortable. "I'll be home soon I think. I should probably relieve Jessie."

"Thanks," she smiled, breathing a sigh of relief as she started walking away. "See you."

Watching her go for a moment, he shook himself out of his thoughts when he realised his eyes had gone straight back to her ass, that he was too easily distracted by her. Getting himself together, he headed down the road and looked in on the variety of activities going on. Grouped into categories, supplies were strewn about over the road, the Alexandrian's making slow but steady progress as they packed it all into the garage next to the pantry. At Abraham's instructions, not one item was going into the regular rotation that day…everything would be catalogued for Olivia's inventory, and then a long term ration schedule would be made.

Checking on Carl, he found he and Ron exactly where he had left them that morning, sitting at a table outside the church working on the weapons. Beside Carl were large plastic tubs filled with various firearms, ammunition, knives and machetes, each of them cleared and tagged with a brief description. Glad that Abraham and Tobin were nearby supervising, he marvelled over what they had achieved, amazed by the sheer volume of the weapons they had brought back. The arsenal at the prison had been substantial, as had the equipment they took from Silverpine Police Station, the underground bunker, Walmart…not to mention the weapons Rick had taken from the two groups of people that had attacked them throughout the supply run. Seeing that Carl was doing a thorough job and making steady progress, Rick was glad that he had allowed him to take this particular task that day, despite the reservations a few other people felt. While he had always expected a certain amount of misguided opinions when it came to Carl, when Barbara had come to him today and worriedly told him that Carl was handling large weapons, it took all the strength he had to be polite to her.

"How's everything going?" he asked Carl and Ron.

"Good," Carl sound, though he sounded tired. "There's a lot though…a lot."

"Have you found your cross bow yet?"

Carl nodded, indicating underneath the table. "It was in the military truck…we're still looking for the bolts though."

"I'll take it home for you," he said, picking it up and slinging it over his shoulder. The two of them having already spent some time hunting together, Daryl had found this particular crossbow for Carl while on the supply run, and as soon as his gunshot injury had sufficiently healed, he would be taking Carl outside the walls to hunt with it. Until then, there were going to be a lot of lessons to get him up to speed, to improve his accuracy and comfort handling the weapon. Wondering where Daryl was now, Rick was grateful to him for the focus he took on Carl…any skill he could help the young teen develop would only benefit him.

"Were any of the weapons still loaded when you cleared them?" he asked, interested to see how careful the group had been when they scavenged for firearms.

Carl shook his head. "No, they've all been clear so far. There's about thirty of them that need to be cleaned though, but I can do that tomorrow," he added, already calling dibs on the task before Rick could give him something else. "What's for dinner?"

"Shit on a cracker," Abraham declared loudly, walking towards them. "I told you that already."

Carl grinned, always enjoying Abraham's vulgar vocabulary, particularly given that he wasn't allowed to repeat it within earshot of Rick. Shaking his head to himself, Rick looked up and noted that Abraham was waiting to speak with him.

"He's right, shit on a cracker," he confirmed, clasping Carl on the shoulder before departing. "Be home by sundown. You too, Ron."

Leaving them too it, and catching the way Ron looked at Carl's new crossbow enviously, Rick joined Abraham further up the road so that they could talk in private.

"We're going to need a bigger armoury," Abraham said bluntly, getting straight to the point. "We cannot safely store this volume in the small room we've got now, particularly given some of the more delightful weapons we've brought back."

"Yes," Rick agreed, thinking of the grenades and high powered firearms they now had possession of.

"Olivia's lost her God damned mind with all of these supplies," Abraham continued, gesturing to the piles on the road. "Just about sat down and cried an hour ago. She doesn't know what to do with it all."

"We need to make sure it's not wasted," Rick said first and foremost, concerned about the Alexandrian's getting too indulgent now that they had all of this. They had no idea how quickly it could run out.

"That's what I said. For now, none of what we brought back is going into the main rotation of rations. We're sorting and cataloguing it to make a proper inventory. Olivia said something about Carrie doing her a spreadsheet?"

Rick nodded. "For now, we've just got to get it inside before night fall. About the armoury…it might do us well to spread it into one of these garages here…or even better, one of the houses. It'll be easier to secure."

"You going to work on getting us access?"

Rick nodded grimly. "I spoke to Deanna about it this morning, but she didn't go for it. A couple of weeks of waking Olivia every day before dawn, she'll crack. That should help our case."

"You know she used to open for a cafe. Early mornings might not bother her."

"Then we'll have to get creative. Wake her up, send her back to bed. Then wake her up again for something else."

"Rinse and repeat," Abraham smiled grimly. "For now, I've the grenades and RPGs are locked up tight," he continued, passing Rick a spare key to the locker they had in the shipping container. "No one's getting their grubby paws on them without our say so."

"How's Carl been?" he asked, slipping the key onto his own set. "Is he behaving?"

"He's his usual self; a cheeky little shit, that is. He's being responsible with the weapons," he added, clarifying that important part. "Doesn't touch anything he doesn't know. He's resting his leg. That Ron kid though…he's a pain in the ass."

Rick raised his eyebrows at this. "Aren't most fifteen year olds?"

Abraham shrugged. "I had Carl showing him how to clear hand guns, but he was starting to fool around. So I demoted him to clipboard duty. How's it all going back there?" he asked, gesturing vaguely to their houses.

"It's going fast, we're nearly done. I'm going to get Eugene outside the walls tomorrow, maybe Tobin too. If we're going to start setting up a surveillance system, we need to make sure none of our wires are going to get damaged in the expansion."

"You speak to Deanna about putting in a second gate yet?"

He nodded. "Yeah, I did. She seemed to be in agreement, but said it would be up to Tobin, he's in charge of the expansion."

"You told her the reason, right? About herds?"

"Of course I did," he said in frustration. "I explained that a second gate would let any herd simply flow through through us rather than breaking down the walls, but she seemed…unconcerned."

Abraham raised his eyebrows at this. "Unconcerned?"

"That's the best way of putting it."

"She won't be unconcerned if we're surrounded by a herd. How did the debrief go this morning? Did you gloss things over?"

He paused, thinking about it. "It went alright," he mused, scratching the back of his neck as he elaborated. "I told her what happened, but none of the details."

"You tell her about the delightful folk you had to handle?"

"No," he answered, beginning to question whether this had been the right thing to do or not. Remembering the bug he had planted in her living room, he knew that Carol had been right last night…they should have listened to the recording straight away. At least then he would have had some idea of what Deanna did and did not know, and he could have adapted to that when they spoke this morning. Thinking about the other things they had talked about, he began to fill Abraham in. "She still won't let us be armed inside the walls, and as for teaching the kids to drive and learn how to shoot, she's deferring that decision to their parents."

Abraham scoffed. "She's passing the buck?"

"No, I think she's trying to be diplomatic about it…but I think she knows people won't agree without her support. She's on board with us setting up some safe houses, with making emergency bags for the houses here. She'll also let us start putting chain locks on all interior doors, and we can change door handles over to knobs…she seemed unaware that Walkers could accidentally open a latch handle."

This came as no surprise to Abraham. "She's a good woman, but there's a mighty shit tonne of shit that she's unaware of…it's a good start though. What about the surveillance system and Walker traps?"

"We've got carte blanche."

"And the Walkers with the W?"

He sighed. "She seemed suitably concerned."

"But?"

"You sense a but?" Rick questioned.

"One the side of Eugene's."

Rick sighed, beginning to feel very tired. "She's concerned…but I get the impression she thinks we're overreacting. I think we'll need to bring it up again, maybe after the fuss from the supply run and the party has died down."

"We've got Tobin on our side now," Abraham reminded him. "This supply run was an eye opener for him, and he's got influence with Deanna. We should be utilising him to our advantage. Carrie too."

"Carrie? Why's that?"

Abraham shrugged. "Think about it…Deanna likes her. They're both well educated and successful women. They're probably got a lot in common."

"Maybe before, but not these days."

Abraham looked at him imperatively, needing him to understand. "The before is what matters to Deanna. She cares about who we used to be, even if she shouldn't. Besides, Carrie has a certain air of diplomacy about her. You should be giving her a specific job here."

"She has a job," Rick frowned. "Deanna gave her one…or a few, actually."

Abraham shook his head. "You and I both know that the jobs Deanna gives us are more for her benefit than for ours. Don't forget we run this place…you run this place. Carrie's a smart woman…if you give her a job to do here, something to help us work with Deanna's people, she'll handle it."

"What are you suggesting?"

"Another Carol, just without the cookies and sweaters. Someone on the inside…someone making friends, winning people over. Winning Deanna over."

Considering this, Rick glanced up at Deanna's townhouse, wondering if Abraham was right. "You think Deanna would listen to her?"

"She listens to Maggie. So yes, I daresay she'll listen to Carrie too."

Considering this, Rick slowly gave a nod of agreement…Abraham's suggestion had quite a lot of merit. He knew Carrie as well as anyone could after three weeks. When the time called for it, she had a certain way with words. That combined with Deanna's clear fondness of her could be used to their benefit. Rubbing the back of his neck as he looked around, the feeling of exhaustion beginning to creep up on him, Rick knew he had quite a lot to think about.

"You calling it a day?"

Glancing at Abraham, Rick knew that this was less of a question, and more of a suggestion. Getting the hint, he nodded in agreement. "I'd better…someone needs to make shit on a cracker for dinner, might as well be me."

His laughter booming, Abraham clapped Rick on the shoulder and sent him on his way. Readjusting Carl's new crossbow over his shoulder, he began to head home gratefully, trusting that Carl would be home by sundown, and that the rest of his family would be too. Though he disliked the idea of delegating the more traditional home maker roles to Carol, he hoped to God there was something better for their evening meal than shit on a cracker.

* * *

Every step Carrie took was a relief, one that slowly lifted the weight of the long, hard day she had forced herself to push through. Leaving Rick behind, she tried not to look like she was fleeing the scene of a crime as she returned to her new home, though that was easier said than done. Despite everyone working on particular tasks, the Alexandrian's seemed to be everywhere, the small community abuzz with activity that Carrie could not escape form. During her short walk home she encountered three people who stopped to talk to her, who didn't understand that she had been walking with her head down for a reason. Despite their friendliness, she just didn't want to talk to them any more…it had been such a long day.

There was a reason she had volunteered to take Sasha a snack in the watch tower, and it wasn't just to properly introduce herself to the last member of Rick's group she had yet to meet. It would have been difficult to explain if someone asked her, but despite the friendliness and welcoming nature of the community, Carrie wanted only to escape them. It didn't matter how long she had been waiting for this, for the safety and community Alexandria would bring, it was painfully overwhelming. She'd volunteered to take Sasha a snack so that she could get away from everyone to have ten minutes of peace and quiet. On the surface, she'd been enjoying the pleasant company of the Alexandrians while she helped with the supplies…on the inside she wanted to curl up in bed and close her eyes, to block it all out.

Finally, she managed to reach her new home, having made an poor excuse that Rosemary and Erin likely saw straight through. But nevertheless they let her go, and it was with relief that she walked through the yellow front door and closed it behind herself, revelling in the solitude that engulfed her. For a long moment she leant against the front door in silence, remembering to cut herself some slack…she hadn't expected this to be an easy transition, but she hadn't realised how different everything would seem. The day in Alexandria seemed so…normal. Perhaps that was the most difficult part for her, adapting to a way of life that she was no longer familiar with. She could tell that the others in her group were experiencing this too, but she wondered if it was to the degree she did. They'd been in Alexandria before, they knew what they were returning to. For her, this was the first time since the outbreak started that she'd encountered something so normal.

Trying to get herself together, for there was still at least an hour of work left until the sun went down, she went into the kitchen and tried to remember where the glasses were kept. Opening and closing a few cupboards, she mentally took stock of what was kept where before finding what she needed. Pouring herself some water, she took a seat at the island bench and gave herself a few minutes before she would return to the supplies. But from now on, she would stick to the members of her own group, feeling that she had pushed herself to meet enough Alexandrian's for now. As she sat quietly, she started to think about the next few days, wondering what they would bring, automatically beginning to worry about the party.

If she was bothered by being the centre of attention now, it would only be worse on Monday night. Though it was to celebrate the safe return and success of the supply run crew, it was also a celebration of her arrival, the community's newest resident. Once again, she would be the centre of attention, and everyone would want a piece of her. She suspected that on some level the Alexandrian's were more interested in her out of morbid curiosity than of genuine friendliness…she was from the outside, she was different. Remembering something Rick had warned her about while they were at the prison, that there was a clear divide in the community, she tried to prepare herself to look past this, to be ready for it. Rationally, she knew that all she had to do was find common ground…one element of common would be all it took for her to properly integrate into the community. Despite this rationale, she wondered if it was even possible…today it didn't feel like it was.

So deep in thought, Carrie was taken by surprise when she heard the front door opening, and it was with dread that she turned around to see who it was. But a moment later she relaxed, seeing that it was only Carol.

"Hi there," Carol greeted her pleasantly, coming inside with Judith on her hip and the purple back pack over her shoulder.

"Hi," she smiled, forcing herself to.

Though she was glad to see Carol and not one of the Alexandrians, she immediately felt herself put on edge. Carol had been nothing but kind and welcoming to her in general, but she couldn't quite shake the feeling that she wasn't yet met with the woman's approval. It was only subtle cues that made her feel this way, but throughout the day she'd looked up to find Carol's gaze upon her, almost as if she was under suspicion for something. One of the more uncomfortable indications had been when she walked past Carol and Rick while they were talking that morning…while Rick hadn't done anything unusual, Carol had suddenly ceased what she was saying, quickly fixing a pleasant smile on her face that hadn't been there before. Dwelling on this, Carrie knew that Carol must still be deciding how she felt about the unexpected arrival who had moved into her home.

"Taking a break?" Carol enquired. Putting Judith down in the centre of the living room, she smiled pleasantly as she entered the kitchen and began unloading Judith's back pack. "It's been a long day," she commiserated.

Though a part of her wanted to wipe that condescending smile off Carol's face, Carrie held her tongue. Carol had every right to be suspicious of her. If the situation were reversed, Carrie would feel the same in return.

"Yeah, taking a break," she confirmed, looking back at her glass of water.

There was a short pause, Carol stopping her task for a moment. "They're a lot to handle."

Looking up at her, she was surprised to see how genuine Carol's expression was, to not see the smile she was sick of. "Yes," she agreed, knowing what she referred to. "They're a lot."

"It will get easier," Carol assured her, getting back to her task. Emptying Judith's backpack, she placed some used bottles and a tupperware container into the sink to be washed. "These people? They like to pretend."

"Thanks," she muttered, glad that she understood. Carol might look upon her with an element of mistrust, but at least she wasn't being hostile…she understood what Carrie was experiencing, and she was sympathetic.

Trying to distract herself, Carrie looked over at Judith who was beginning to fuss. The baby sat in the centre of the living room exactly where Carol had placed her, sucking on the corner of a brown piece of fabric and beginning to rub her eyes. When she noticed Carrie watching her, Judith lowered her security blanket from her mouth and began to crawl over, her approach making Carrie feel apprehensive. Judith wasn't coming to her, was she? If that was the case, she wouldn't know what to do…she hadn't even known how to hold her that morning. But thankfully Judith was heading towards Carol instead, giving a low whine before breaking out into a miserable sob.

"I know you're tired," Carol sighed, looking down at her. Though she seemed exasperated at first, she smiled warmly and then picked her up, bringing Judith to rest against her shoulder. Noticing that was Carrie was watching, she explained. "She's had a long day too…she wouldn't take her nap this afternoon."

Looking at Judith, she smiled at the way she was resting her head against Carol's shoulder, the security blanket clutched in her fist. Watching her for a few moments, Carrie reluctantly looked out the window next, knowing she should get back out there, that she should be contributing to the efforts.

"They won't blame you if you don't go back out there," Carol said softly.

Her kind words made Carrie question everything she had just been thinking about Carol…perhaps her first impression had been mistaken. "I know…but I will. I should be out helping."

"If you're worried about pulling your weight, there's plenty to do here," Carol suggested. "Can you fold clean laundry?"

Recognising that this was less a request for help and more an offer of salvation, Carrie jumped at the chance. "Badly, but yes."

Chuckling at her self depreciation, Carol just shook her head wryly. "There should be a load in the dryer that's finished. I could use help with that while I give Judith an early bath."

"Thank you," she sighed gratefully, getting up and putting her used glass into the dishwasher. While she wanted space from the others, she didn't want to be lazy either. "Consider it done."

"Anything that needs ironing can go in the blue basket underneath the bench," Carol told her. "But don't worry about Rick or Daryl's shirts…they look like animals no matter how well I do their laundry."

Laughing in agreement, Carrie paused and thanked Carol again before retreating into the laundry. While it took her longer than it should have to figure out which was the washing machine and which was the dryer, she unloaded the clean clothing into a basket and set it on the bench top, clearing a space to make individual stacks. The clothes were warm and beautifully scented, a nice change given that this load seemed to be the clothing they had worn on the last days of the supply run. Folding the items as best she knew how, for she figured Carol might be rather particular about it, Carrie had to pause and admire the woman's handiwork. Her jeans that had turned a murky brown colour, despite being washed at the underground bunker, were once again light grey…how did she do that?

As Carol took Judith upstairs, Carrie felt the time slipping away from her, enjoying the menial task of folding and sorting the clothing according to owner. She paused when she found a shirt she recognised as belonging to Rick…this was the one he had been wearing the first night they slept together, the one she had put on before they fell asleep together. That night felt like so long ago, when in fact it had only been a week. Thinking on this, Carrie couldn't help but feel surprised…she and Rick had only been sleeping together for one week…it felt like a hell of a lot longer. Though the days slipped by rapidly, they also felt long and drawn out, throwing her entire concept of time askew. In hindsight, she and Rick had moved very quickly from their initial attraction to their friends with benefits relationship. That idea should have worried her, particularly with what she had been through during the outbreak, what had happened to her with Granger's group. But she wasn't worried…she didn't question her choices, but rather was confident in them.

"Hey."

Looking up suddenly, Carrie was surprised to find Rick standing in the doorway, his silent arrival having started her. Realising her hands were clenched in his clean shirt, that she'd been holding it longer than required to fold it, she scrambled to start folding it, clumsily trying to find the right seams. This was the second time she'd been taken by surprise thanks to another person's arrival…she needed to be more aware of her surroundings.

"Hey," she greeted him in return, annoyed to find that she sounded rather breathless. Clearing her throat, she found the right seams and then folded the shirt, hoping she was doing it to Carol's satisfaction. "What are you doing?"

He hesitated before answering. "Looking for you."

She looked back up at this statement, surprised by it. Rick had so much on his plate right now, so many people wanting five minutes of his time, and he was seeking her company? There was a long moment as her surprise eased into comfortable familiarity, and she felt herself relax a little. A familiar warmth began to spread through her body, Carrie recognising his expression and body language. He stood leaning against the door frame, his arms folded across his chest as he looked at her…he seemed tentative to be there, and that was the indication Carrie needed to ascertain what he wanted. He wasn't seeking just her company…

Unsure of herself, for the struggles of her long day still weighed her down, she waited for him to make the first move. Needing something to hold, she kept his folded shirt in her hands as she watched him. He seemed to be silently debating something, and apparently coming to a decision he stepped inside the laundry and unfolded his arms. Knowing that although his approach was unexpected, it was welcomed eagerly, he slowly reached out and touched her waist. His kiss was soft and gentle, coaxing a response from her before he was willing to deepen it. Unexpectedly, she felt her knees go a little weak, having not realised how badly she wanted this. Her hands trembled as she hastily put his clean shirt aside and then reached for him, unable to hold back a pathetic whimper. The kiss last night had not been a once off, and that was a relief to know, almost as good as the relief she felt now. As she began kissing him back, he stepped closer and moved his arms around her lower back, sighing as he brushed his tongue against her lips.

With this motion came a sense of urgency, a sudden bout of need that was familiar to them both. Welcoming his hands as they moved to her ass, she let him press himself against her as they moved back against the wall, Carrie briefly breaking their kiss to gasp for air. He was all over her, his hands somehow managing to be everywhere at once while hers struggled to find purchase against his chest. It felt like she had all of him and none of him at the same time, her hands scrambling to caress his jaw like she had wanted to that morning…it was strange to feel him clean shaven, but a welcome change too. This was what she had been wanting all day, even though she only half knew it. Despite the unexpected advance, there was comforting familiarity in his kiss, a reassuring nature to the greedy way he touched her body. Like the other times, he held very little back, his lush kiss sharing his frustrations with the day in the same way hers did.

Her heart was pounding furiously, the peak of her legs throbbing in anticipating of the act they couldn't engage in right now…though Rick seemed not to have realised this. He pressed his hips against hers with a long groan, one hand moving down the back of her leg and then hitching her knee up. She gasped against his lips, her head falling back against the wall as he started kissing her neck, but she knew she couldn't let this go on…not here…not now. But perhaps just one more moment…a little longer.

"Rick," she finally panted, gripping a handful of his head to get his attention. "Rick, wait…stop."

As she trusted he would, he stopped without hesitation. Lifting his head from her neck, he looked at her wide eyed before pressing his forehead against hers, his eyes drifting shut as he started to catch his breath. He held her in that position for a few moments longer, his chest heaving as he slowly helped her put her leg down. They stayed like that for a short while, Carrie's brief worry subsiding now that they had stopped. She could hear running water from the bath tub upstairs, and the chatter of people who were working in the garage, these sounds confirming her reluctant realisation that they needed to stop. They couldn't risk getting caught, no matter how good it felt to have Rick's body pressed up against her, no matter how much she wanted more. Listening to the sounds, she heard Eugene furiously berating someone for their mistreatment of his organisational system.

"Sorry," Rick apologised, letting her go and stepping back. "Shit, I…"

She tried to reassure him, to soothe his guilt with a final kiss, but he stepped back too quickly. Instead she grabbed his hand, the touch of their fingers making him look at her. Though she wanted to speak, she too was breathless, his kiss having robbed her of the ability to do anything other than stand there and look at him in awe.

"Sorry," he said again. Taking his hand back from hers again, he shifted his weight between his feet and cleared his throat.

"I don't want us to get caught, that's all," she apologised, finding her voice.

"Right," he nodded, clearing his throat as he glanced out into the hallway as if only just remembering how many people were close by. He looked back at her fondly, but she could still see a little uncertainty in his eyes…had she ever stopped him like that before? Was he worried he'd gone too far, that he'd upset her? Hoping to reassure him, she stepped forward with a tentative smile, her eyes locked on his lips. She'd never really taken notice of them before, but now he had shaved, she could see how red and swollen they were from their urgent kisses.

"One more," she requested, kissing him without waiting for his reaction. Though she kept it short and sweet, she hoped it was enough to reassure him that everything was alright. "That was nice," she smiled when she stepped back.

Rick gave a short laugh, the corners of his mouth turning upwards. "Nice?" he questioned. Shifting his weight to his other foot he adjusted the front of his jeans, trying and failing to be subtle about it. "Yeah, sure…that was nice."

Echoing his laugh, she couldn't help but glance down at the front of his jeans, enjoying how uncomfortable he must be feeling right now. Though she had a few ideas about how she could help him relieve that discomfort, she kept them to herself. Feeling the urge to reach out to him again, she instead reached for his shirt which she had set aside, quickly trying to straighten her poor attempt at folding it.

"Would you like some help?" he offered, his tone indicating he hoped she would say yes.

"You're timing is less than perfect," she said, gesturing to the basket that had only a few items left.

He chuckled as he looked into the basket, and then he shook his head to himself. "I'm good like that," he said, trailing off. There was a short pause as he looked at her, another smile forming on mouth as he started to say something else. "You know, I -"

The sound of the interior door to the garage opening cut him off, and almost as if he was worried it might be Carl, Rick automatically took a step away from Carrie. Unbothered by this, for she herself had suggested the parameters and secrecy of their relationship, she took a pair of jeans from the basket and shook the creases out before looking for the seams.

"Rick," Eugene started, his dead panned voice an ongoing source of amusement for Carrie. "I'm making a formal request for assistance, for your authority. If that request is denied, then I'll have no other choice but to quit my position as Head of Surveillance Operations."

Sighing, Rick closed his eyes as if praying, and then turned around to look at Eugene. "That's a self-appointed title, you're not the head of anything."

Eugene stared at him blankly. "I strongly suggest caution on your part…if you upset the Head of Surveillance Operations, you can rig your control room without my fine expertise. Do you know the difference between a VGA cable, a TOS Link and a HDMI Male to DVI Female adaptor?"

There was a short pause, one in which Carrie could see Rick's jaw clenching. "No," he said shortly.

"They're so different they're playing an entirely different ball game. Now are you going to provide assistance in my combat against Tara's poor organisational skills, or shall I go home?"

Rick's head dropped forward onto his chest with a short sigh. "Fine…give me a minute." When Eugene didn't move, Rick looked up at him. "Eugene! Give me a minute!"

Getting the hint, Eugene promptly departed, slamming the door behind himself and immediately yelling at Tara. Unable to help herself, Carrie broke into poorly stifled laughter…despite his apparent tendency to steal food from other people's refrigerators, Eugene was great for some comic relief.

"You think that's funny?" Rick asked wryly, tilting his head at her at he came back to her. "Wait until you listened to that for a week."

"You're just upset because you don't know the difference between a…HDMI," she started, trying to remember what Eugene had said. "…and a USB."

Looking as though he was enjoying her light teasing, Rick smiled at her. Coming another step closer, he gave a long sigh as he kissed her lightly, briefly running his hand through her long hair. As the sound of more yelling came from the garage, he ended the kiss quickly, knowing that he needed to intervene.

"I'll see you around," he said, reluctantly forcing himself to leave.

"I'll be here," she shrugged, disappointed to see him go.

As he departed and began heading off the brewing argument, Carrie grinned to herself as she found the correct seams in the pair of jeans she was holding. Perhaps her day wasn't so awful after all.

* * *

I hope you're enjoying the story so far, I greatly appreciate the reviews, both from new readers and old faithfuls! As usual, thanks to Angie B for her ongoing support. Hopefully, this chapter was enough to get you through your first Sunday without an episode!

Although there should be sufficient warnings, just a reminder that this story will contain sex scenes in future chapters. My aim is to write them tastefully and have them contribute meaningfully to the story and character development, but just a warning for you ahead of time. I won't always post a warning in the beginning author's notes, otherwise it may spoil the chapter's development for the reader.

Thanks for reading, and please drop a review of what you enjoyed!


	6. Chapter 6

The sun was beginning to set by the time Rick returned to the gates of Alexandria on Sunday afternoon, this perhaps being the only reason he returned at all. He'd been outside since the break of dawn, departing the house even before Judith awoke. Spending the entire day outside the walls, while not an unwelcome task, was exhausting, time passing even more slowly as the mercury rose. He made his usual rounds before familiarising himself with the planned expansion, wanting to have a general idea of where the walls would be before Tobin joined him later that day. First up was Eugene, and in typical fashion he was rather reluctant to leave the walls, and did so under great duress. Patiently escorted by Tara and Noah, Eugene was paranoid and frightened by every crunch of leaves or snap of a twig, jumping at his own shadow and testing Rick's patience. But despite his frustrations, Rick held his tongue, knowing that Eugene had guaranteed he would be able to set up the surveillance system.

"Your cabling is insufficient for a three sixty degree view of this place, especially if you want it running out of the back of your garage."

"We brought back every cable in Walmart," Rick reminded him.

"And we've already established who the expert is here. Spoiler alert, it's not you," Eugene told him bluntly. "Half of what you brought back is useless without the proper adaptors, and the conduction speeds?" He shook his head dramatically. "My Grandma could conduct signals faster than those cables. She's been pushing Daisy's twenty years now."

"What do you need then?" Rick asked, needing him to lay it all out.

"At least a thousand yards of the finest high speed cable and about twenty or so adaptors. Not to mention you have to make every connection fully waterproof, particularly if you want to bury them in the ground. That's going to be a right pain in the ass for you if I don't say so myself."

"No," Rick corrected him with a grim smile. "It's going to be a right pain in the ass for you. We're depending on you to get this set up."

"And I will…from inside the walls where my safety is guaranteed," he insisted. As if to reiterate this, he flinched at the sound of his own feet crunching leaves.

"We can do some runs," Tara assured Rick, tactfully changing the subject. "We'll hit up a couple of department stores."

"I suggest highly specialised computer stores," Eugene remarked. "Otherwise you're just wasting time and gas. Rick? I heard about the surveillance system at the underground bunker. How would you feel about doing another run back to Franklin to dig up their cabling and infrastructure?"

Rick didn't need to say or do any more than raise an eyebrow, this gesture sufficiently conveying his answer.

"Then in that case, it's going to take a lot of supply runs to computer stores to get the length of cabling you require to achieve this degree of surveillance. More if you want to go deeper into the woods."

"We do," Rick nodded, looking out in that direction. "There's no point in having surveillance on what we can already see from here. We need to go deep."

"We'll do it," Noah assured him.

"What about the cameras we brought back?" Rick enquired. "The computers? Are they what you need?"

Eugene gave him a blank stare. "They are a thing of beauty…if I were to rate them on a scale of hotness, I'd rate them as being hotter than Carrie."

Ignoring this latter remark, Rick turned away and started walking around the walls, Tara, Noah and Eugene following him. "Why did you need a Windows and a Mac?" he enquired next, hoping to understand. Eugene was right, he wasn't the expert when it came to these things. Rummaging through his satchel, he found the can of bright pink spray paint.

"The Macs are for your control room."

"And why do you need the Windows?"

"That's classified."

Rick looked back at him in exasperation, indicating that he wanted an actual answer.

"I need it for something."

"What?"

"Glenn promised he'd bring me back the Sims 3."

Rolling his eyes, Rick refrained from uttering the curses he wanted to, knowing that he had to keep Eugene on his side. Thankfully he was able to get rid of him a short while later, the four of them circling Alexandria and using the spray paint to mark out the most suitable places for the shallow trenches required to bury the cabling. When they reached the gates again Eugene gratefully went back inside with Tara, seeking refuge in Rick's garage where he agreed to keep sorting out the computers and electrical cords, making a list of everything else he would need too.

Letting Noah stay out there with him, for Rick didn't mind his company, they went out deeper into the woods for a while, the two of them making plans and sharing ideas for the Walker traps they'd be setting up soon. Some spikes, some pits, wire strung up though the trees like at Shirewilt Estate…maybe a set of gates they had at the prison which would help keep the Walkers from reaching the main gates. The hours passed slowly, he and Noah taking down the occasional Walker as they went. Though they had little in common, and hadn't been together for all that long, Noah was as much a part of their group as Beth had been…and that was just as she would have wanted it.

Later that morning Rick was joined by Tobin and a few of the others from the construction crew, and he wasn't oblivious to the way they looked at him. Though he knew his group's contribution to the supply run was valued and respected, most Alexandrian's acknowledging that Aidan and Nicholas would not have managed it on their own, Rick knew they were still intimidated by him. It helped that he and Tobin seemed to get along now, but what didn't help was the way he met the construction crew at the gates. Though he'd only taken down a few Walkers, they'd been messy kills, his arms and neck covered in blood, and his button up shirt was no longer light beige. Carol as going to have his head for wearing such a light colour outside the walls.

Wanting it over with, for he could see how they were looking at him, Rick made quick work of getting to know everyone and letting Tobin take the lead in showing him around. They discussed a variety of ideas, going back and forth on how many of the other houses they wanted to bring within the walls and how long each scenario would take.

"It doesn't matter if the trenches cut off our surveillance cables by accident," Rick said, indicating to the pink lines they had drawn. "It should be an easy fix, but it would be better if we could avoid it. It's just a matter of disconnecting each cable before hand and getting it out of the way."

"I think we can manage that," Tobin agreed, his eyes following the line of paint through the trees.

"Rick," one of the others started, sounding a little tentative. "Why are we setting up this surveillance system in the first place? We've never seen anyone out here."

Hiding his annoyance, Rick tried to remember the man's name…he'd met him at the welcome party when he first arrived. "Carter, is it?"

"Yeah."

"Well, Carter, we want to know what's going on out here. You haven't seen people, but I guarantee they're out here. Plus, we want to know how many Walkers we have out here on any give day, we want to keep track of where they're going…if they're moving on their own or in groups."

"Groups are problems," Tobin spoke up, having learnt that on the supply run. "You got a group of Roamers, then that means they're drawing more and slowly getting bigger."

"Exactly," Rick agreed. "We need to know if there are groups forming so we can take care of them. Plus, it means we can be safer out here doing the expansion. It's more eyes watching our asses."

Carter nodded, apparently accepting this reason.

"Tobin," Rick began, remembering something that had been bothering him. He gestured to the walls. "Why are the supports on the outside?"

Smiling in understanding, Tobin answered. "Seems counterintuitive, doesn't it?" he remarked, shrugging next. "Reg designed it that way, said it's the best place for them."

Though he trusted Reg's expertise, Rick wasn't pleased by the answer, having hoped that they'd be able to move the supports to the inside of the walls. "Having the supports on the outside is a security problem. We're going to need to work on getting some barbed wire up here, maybe some spikes and broken glass, anything to deter people from climbing over."

"Climbing over?" Lee muttered, looking up at the walls. "They're twelve feet high, some of the more."

"It can be done," Rick said patiently. "I've done it, my son has done it. Hell, even Carol could do it if she determined."

Just as he had expected, this latter remark elicited a slight chuckle from the others, though it died down when they realised Rick was serious.

"Rick is right," Tobin said, looking at Rick as he said this. "We could manufacture individual panels of spikes and glass to sit atop the walls, that way we can remove them if we ever needed to."

"Good," he nodded, sharing a grateful nod with Tobin. "We'll also need to work on clearing the trees from around the walls. If something were to fall, it could bring the walls down easily."

Tobin was in agreement too. "We've worked on that sometimes, but we usually get scared off by Roamers. But if we do it soon, the wood will have time to dry out before we need it over winter."

It seemed that much like when Rick spoke with his own group, the construction crew took Tobin at his word, and there were nods of agreement from the other three. Giving him a look that conveyed his gratefulness for the support, Rick tried to hustle the rest of the tour around the outside, glad when it was over. He understood now why Glenn and Abraham had insisted that Tobin be asked to come on the supply run with them. Now that it was over, it had been a strategic move on their part, one that was beginning to pay off now. Though it was only one, they had successfully brought one of the residents to a greater understanding of the world…Tobin had seen a lot more now, and he understood more too.

Arriving back at the gates, he was pleased to find that his next task of the day was ready and waiting for him, Abraham, Daryl, Aaron and Michonne waiting in the minivan for him to get back. Giving them a quick wave, he lingered with Tobin and the others a minute longer, rehashing everything that had been discussed. As he listened and nodded along, Rick looked up at the sound of a familiar voice, surprised to find that Carrie was standing in the threshold of the gate…he was even more surprised to find that Sasha was with her too. Despite Sasha's prickly demeanour of late, the two women seemed to be getting along rather well, and just like he had heard yesterday, Sasha was actually laughing.

They were talking to Holly who was on gate duty, letting her know they'd probably be about an hour or so before they returned. Though Rick knew he didn't have to be her protector, that she was more than capable of taking care of herself, he found himself quickly looking Carrie up and down, making sure she had everything she needed. Her Ruger was secured in a shoulder holster, her yoga pants having no belt loops with which to hold her leg holster, and poking out of her satchel Rick could see the handle of a knife and machete. She didn't need his blessing to leave the safety of the walls, he wasn't her keeper, and besides….judging by the look of relief in her eyes, she was glad to be outside.

Watching her as he did now, Rick thought back to the previous afternoon when he'd come home and found her alone. His thoughts had already been preoccupied by her, and when he found her alone he couldn't help but act upon the privacy it afforded them. Letting himself get carried away he kissed her without abandon, loving the way she melted against him, the way she whimpered as she tried to keep up with him. He'd been hard in an instant, giving serious consideration to the idea of convincing her to indulge in a quickie right then and there. Perhaps he'd been too hasty…he had gone home with the intention of soon retrieving Judith, but upon finding Carrie alone he needed to relieve his stress. That was what they had each other for, right? A release…a way of hiding from the world and indulging in one another?

When she'd stopped him, the word 'stop' enough to make him stop no matter what, he'd been immediately filled with fear. Why was she stopping him? Was she upset? He knew he'd come onto her rather strongly, his advance quite unexpected even by him…perhaps that wasn't okay. After all, he'd never approached her quite like that, taking her unaware and moving so quickly. As he let her go and stepped back he was convinced he had done wrong, that his sudden moment of desire had upset her. Thankfully this seemed not to be the case, this understanding filling him with relief…he never wanted to do that to her…he didn't want to make her feel anything other than what he felt. The reason she had stopped him was the practicality of time and place. Carol was home with Judith, and the rest of their group were barely more than a closed door away. That night he had fallen asleep in the rocking chair with Judith, but when Carol roused him later on and sent him to bed, it was Carrie he thought of as he drifted away, dwelling on how amazing it had felt being with her again, even if just for a few moments.

"Tobin," Lee began, speaking quietly. "Carly's joined the construction crew, hasn't she? As a look out?"

"Her name's Carrie," he corrected. "And yeah, she has."

Rick looked at him in surprise. Carrie? On the construction crew?

"What's the go with her?" Carter asked next, stepping forward. "Is she seeing anyone? I heard that maybe Aidan was interested in her."

"Umm," Tobin began awkwardly, knowing about her and Rick. "Rick? She lives with you, doesn't she?"

"Yes," he answered shortly.

"Is she seeing anyone?" Carter asked again, directing his question to Rick this time. "I only ask because…she can hold a conversation, you know? I like that in a woman."

Rick knew all too well that Carrie could hold a conversation. Although he wanted to make it very clear to Carter that Carrie wasn't interested, that she was seeing someone, he knew he ought not to. Not only would it make it obvious that he was the one she was seeing, their relationship with one another was not defined in such a way. No matter how much he wanted her, no matter how much he longed to find time alone with her, Carrie was free to date whoever she pleased. If Carter was interested in her, then Rick had no claim on her…not that the idea of this was met with his approval.

"I don't know," he replied politely. Forcing a friendly smile, he looked at Carter properly. "You should ask her out," he suggested, though to him it was really more of a dare.

The look on Carter's face made Rick seethe with jealousy. "Yeah," he smiled nervously. "I er…I might."

The others laughed and began heading over to the gates, their work outside concluded. "No you won't," Lee teased. "You'll chicken out like you did with Betsy."

"And with Erin," Michael added.

When Tobin caught his eye, Rick gave him a nod of thanks for deferring Carter's enquiries over to him. He had initially liked Carter…though he liked him a little less now. A moment later he accidentally caught Carrie's eye as she and Sasha walked past, and it was only when she was gone that he took note of his sour expression, having still been seething with jealousy. He immediately regretted that she had seen this, for his expression hadn't been directed at her, but it was too late. She and Sasha were gone quickly, the two of them heading off to take a walk around the walls.

"What's up your ass?" Daryl grunted when Rick joined them in the minivan.

"Nothing."

Sitting in the front seat, Michonne snorted loudly. "Yeah, right. Those guys were checking out Carrie, weren't they?" she teased.

Clearing his throat, Rick looked at Abraham who was driving. "Can we go now?" he said impatiently.

As everyone laughed at him, Rick rolled his eyes and slammed the door shut, finding that it was only Aaron who appeared to be on his side. Telling the others to leave him alone, Aaron shot him a look of sympathy.

"You've got it bad," he muttered as soon as Michonne turned on the stereo system.

With their teasing concluded, the five of them began paying careful attention, and as they sped away from the safety of Alexandria the tension rose. With Deanna's blessing for them to start arranging safe houses, they spent the afternoon on the road, going from place to place according to Aaron's directions. Having spent many weeks recruiting, Aaron knew these areas better than Aidan and Nicholas, and he showed them to over a dozen various places within a few hour's walk of Alexandria. Noting down their preferences, cabins that were situated in difficult terrain or near rivers that would provide water, they started making plans for getting the places set up, already having lists in mind of what they would need to have in each place. The sooner they got it done, the better…if Rick had his way, they'd have them set up and fortified before the real heat of summer set in, the time when Walkers would be most active.

They returned to Alexandria a little after five o'clock, and although the sun was beginning to set, Rick stayed outside a little longer, figuring he might as well make it the entire day. Leaving the others to return the minivan to their makeshift car park, Rick made his rounds of the walls for a second time. He knew his twice daily routine was only necessary to a point, that he never found evidence of damage to the walls, but it was a routine he depended on mentally more than practically. Even at the prison after stepping back from supply runs and being the leader, Rick had made his rounds twice daily, sometimes during the middle of the night too if he couldn't sleep. Upon his arrival in Alexandria he had quickly fallen back on the routine, needing the mental reassurance of vigilance.

He lingered outside only as long as he dared, not afraid of being out after dark, but of the scolding he would likely receive from Carol. It was generally agreed upon that he wouldn't go out before dawn or after sunset, and if he lingered longer than necessary he'd only make people worry. Reluctantly returning home, he entered the walls by ascending the clock tower where Holly was still on watch, reminding himself that they'd need to put a heavy duty lock on the door.

"There's no one else outside?" he checked, consulting the clipboard that hung by the gate. It was their record of comings and goings, a method of ensuring that no one was left outside without anyone there to let them back in.

"No, that's everyone."

Thanking her, Rick headed for the armoury to hand in his guns, feeling the usual pang of annoyance each time he unloaded his Colt and checked it back in. Taking a quick look around, he was glad to see that some of the guns had been moved into the armoury rotation, while the rest were in the process of final checks before being stored in one of the empty garages. As he had been yesterday, Carl was still there working, and reminding him of the time, Rick had to practically drag him home.

"Come on, Dad," he sighed in annoyance. "Carrie's still here."

Indeed, Carrie was still there, probably having returned after Sasha showed her around outside the walls. She was in the pantry with Olivia, the two of them glaring at a computer screen as they slowly worked to computerise the existing inventory. He had briefly seen her as he checked his weapons back in, but unlike earlier that afternoon, Carrie avoided his gaze this time. Though he tried not to let this bother him, he wondered if she was doing that on purpose, if the way he had accidentally glared at her earlier had put her on the back foot. Either way, he didn't have time to enquire about it.

"Carrie's a grown woman, she can stay out as long as she likes," Rick explained, farewelling the others who were still working.

"You said I don't have to go to school tomorrow because it's Judith's birthday," Carl appealed. "Come on, I've still got things to do."

"No," he said shortly, beginning to feel bad tempered. Reminding himself to check his attitude, particularly given how hard Carl had worked with the armoury, Rick added, "You've done a good job, but it's time to call it a day."

Though he protested under his breath, Carl did as he was told, following Rick home without further complaint. It was a relief to cross the threshold and smell the delicious aroma of whatever it was Carol and Michonne were cooking, but he headed straight upstairs and into the shower, not wanting Carol to get a good look at how dirty his clothing was. He showered quickly and then returned downstairs to Judith, wanting to spend some time with her after having been outside the walls the entire day. Sitting down with her in the living room, he helped her stack her blocks higher and higher until they fell, enjoying the expression of determination on her face every time she started again. Just like yesterday, Carol had fed and bathed her a little early, though she had left the rest of the night time routine to him, knowing he enjoyed it.

Given it was a little early, Rick let Judith play until he saw her start to give her usual signs of being ready to sleep. As Carol and Carl bustled around in the kitchen preparing a meal, Judith started blinking slowly, giving heavy sighs as she picked up her security blanket. Stroking it against her cheek, she gave a dainty yawn as she kept playing, and Rick let her stay up for as long as he dared. When the sky was fully darkened and Michonne had arrived home, he made her a bottle and then took her to bed, pausing only long enough to let everyone say goodnight to her. Finding peaceful solitude upstairs, he checked her diaper before settling into the rocking chair with her, the two of them beginning to read. He had missed the quiet moments like this. Even after everything they'd been through, and even after spending days believing she was dead, Rick so often forgot to appreciate his daughter, to appreciate the moments like this that were a blessing.

She was asleep before she even finished half her bottle, her head lolling against his chest, but he didn't put her to bed. Instead he held her exactly as she was, breathing in the scent of the top of her head as he remembered something Eugene had told him the day they left for the supply run, that parents could recognise their children by smell alone. Tonight, Judith smelled of soap, formula and baby powder, a combination that reminded him of when Carl was her age too. Thinking about tomorrow, her first birthday, he always surprised by how quickly she was growing up. It still felt like yesterday that he'd held her for the first time, that through his grief he'd been able to remember the light at the end of the tunnel.

"Rick?"

Looking up to find Carol standing in his doorway, he knew what she was there for. "One minute," he requested.

Nodding her head, she departed without further ado, leaving Rick to his thoughts for just a little while longer. Checking that the blankets in the crib had been pulled back, he took the half empty bottle and then set it aside on his nightstand, knowing Judith could drink it if she happened to awaken again during the night. Enjoying one more minute with his daughter, he kissed the crown of her head and then looked at her sweet face.

"Are you going to be a firecracker like your mom, or chilled out like me and your brother?" he asked her softly, always looking forward to seeing the person she would become as she grew.

Or a loud-mouth like Shane?

This thought occurred to him before he could stop it, and so too did the lingering resentment. With a long sigh, Rick comforted himself in the knowledge that although he resented Shane for his betrayal, he'd never felt that for Judith. During Lori's pregnancy and their difficulties, that had been another thing that kept him awake at night, the fear that he wouldn't be able to love the baby, that he wouldn't be able to look past the murky waters of their paternity. The moment he'd laid eyes on his newborn daughter that had all changed, but for many months it had been a genuine fear.

Feeling bad for even thinking about Shane in relation to Judith, he kissed the crown of her head one more time before reluctantly putting her into her crib. His heart leapt as she opened her eyes and roused, but he avoided making eye contact with her, knowing from experience that she would properly rouse. Gently shushing her, he tucked her security blanket into her arms and then turned on her musical mobile, and when she turned onto her side with a long sigh, he too sighed. Successful in his task, although he could see she wasn't asleep yet, he tucked the blankets around her and then crept out of the room, taking the monitor with him.

Gently closing the door behind himself, he moved towards the stairs and lingered in the hallway for a moment, wanting to be sure he and Carol wouldn't be discovered. Of course he didn't want Carl to be aware of him and Carol spying on Deanna, but he also didn't want Michonne to know either. It wasn't that they didn't trust her, or that they didn't value her input, but that they didn't want to burden her. Michonne in particular had been the voice over everyone's shoulder during their long journey on foot towards Washington, encouraging them all, promising that there was something waiting for them. Now that they were here, Rick didn't want her to know how he still mistrusted the safety of the place.

Confident that Carl and Michonne were busy downstairs, he knocked on Carol's door and then let himself in when he heard her call out. Closing the door behind himself, he was pleased to see that she had already opened the program and seemed to have found the relevant recording time.

"You were right," he sighed, slumping down onto the bed beside her. Running his hand through his still damp hair, he sighed wearily. "We should have listened to this the first night we got back. It would have been better to know what Deanna already knew before I talked to her."

"You were dead on your feet," Carol said understandingly. "You deserved to procrastinate."

"I'm dead on my feet now," he complained uncharacteristically.

"Let's just get this over with," she muttered, frowning as she adjusted the volume. They settled in side by side with their eyes trained on the computer screen, watching the audio waves rise and fall with each different sound. "The time stamp is out of sync, but I think they talked the afternoon everyone came home…it sounds like they're drinking coffee."

"Remind me to fix the time stamp," he requested, stifling a yawn. "How much have you listened to?"

"Only until I heard them bring up the supply run…there's a lot of small talk and catching up that I've skipped past to spare you."

Grateful for this, Rick listened patiently as the Monroe family bustled around their living room, talking and laughing while they rejoiced in Aidan's safe return. But a minute later they seemed to turn serious, the sound of scraping chairs and spoons rattling as they stirred sugar indicating that they were sitting down together mid-afternoon. Sooner than he expected, Deanna got straight to the point, waiting only until everyone was seated and had a cup of coffee. When she asked him about the supply run, Rick and Carol listened attentively as Aidan gave a broad overview of their journey and the places they had been, intentionally skimming over most of the details.

"I've already spoken to Aaron and Tobin," Deanna remarked, sounding amused by her son's attempt to keep news of the supply run's problems to himself. "I'm aware of some of the…difficulties, encountered."

"Difficulties?" Aidan questioned wryly. "Are you ever not going to be a politician? Difficulties puts it's lightly. We had some really fucking bad days."

"Well you're all home," Reg stated. "That's what matters to me."

"These bad days," Deanna continued. "Is that how you got that bruise on your mouth?"

There was a brief pause before Aidan answered, and already Rick knew his response would not be believed. "Oh, that's just a bump. These things happen, especially out there."

"Really? I heard a different story," Deanna suggested.

"Such as?"

"Such as, it was Rick who gave you that."

There was a longer pause now, Deanna and Reg waiting patiently for Aidan to reply. "Yeah, alright. It was Rick, and Mom, before you get started…I was kind of asking for it."

Perplexed, Rick looked at Carol in disbelief. Had he heard that right? I was kind of asking for it.

"Asking for a punch to the face?" Deanna questioned. "From the man who was supposed to be in charge?"

"Abraham was in charge of the supply run."

Deanna scoffed. "Oh Sweet Heart…Abraham was the head of the supply run, yes, but I guarantee you Rick was the neck. Abraham may have been in charge as you say…but I guarantee Rick was calling the shots."

"Either way," Aidan continued. "I was asking for it. I did something stupid, and then I lied to him about it."

"What was that?" Reg asked gently.

"Aaron told you what happened to Carrie?" he asked. "What went down with her and Nicholas?"

"Yes."

"Well when we were looking for her, I was supposed to stay at Walmart and wait for her to turn up," he explained. He sighed now. "I was frustrated, because no one was checking the highway for her. I thought maybe if I did a quick drive down that way, I might be able to find her. Turns out while I was gone, Carrie made it there. She didn't know I was coming back, and so she made another run for it. It was my fault she had to spend the rest of the night out there…I see that now."

"Either way," Deanna said, sounding frustrated. "That was no way for him to act."

"Look, don't get me wrong. I don't like the guy, I don't like any of them. But I get it."

Deanna made a sound of disagreement. "Regardless of what happened, of who did what, Rick should have been more level headed. He's the leader of his group, he should know how to behave."

Much to Rick's surprise, Aidan actually laughed. "Mom…" he started, sounding defeated. "I don't like what he did to me, but I get it. We were out there three weeks! We were living in each other's pockets, sleeping with one eye open, that's if we slept at all. You've got no idea the tension and pressure we were under…and it gets to you, Mom. In that moment, realising that I didn't do what he asked…it got to Rick."

There was a long pause, the Monroe's taking this in.

"I'm surprised you're speaking in his defence."

"Only in regards to that moment," Aidan clarified. "I know you generally think the sun shines out of his ass, that he's going to help this place-"

"I don't think the sun shines out of anywhere. I acknowledge his flaws."

"Well good, because you need to be careful about him. While I get it that three weeks of tension is what set him off on me…he's been out there a whole lot longer than three weeks. You should be careful with him. He killed people."

"I know," Deanna acknowledged. "I know he's had to do things to protect himself, to protect his family."

"He killed people on this supply run. On more than one occasion too. "

This comment seemed to take them by surprise, and after an initial murmur of disbelief, there was a long period of silence. Waiting for someone to speak, Rick could picture Deanna scrutinising her son, gauging what he had just told her.

"I heard what happened at the construction site."

"That's not what I'm talking about. What happened at the construction site? That was bad, no one had any choice but to open fire then…fuck, even Carl killed someone."

There was another murmur of disbelief, this remark about Carl making Rick's stomach squirm. Feeling Carol looking at him, he glanced up at her and nodded, affirming that what Aidan had said was true.

"Has anyone told you about the herd?"

"I talked to Aaron for a few minutes this afternoon."

"Yeah? That night, Rick and Carrie left to lead the herd away…next morning? Rick turns up with a trunk full of supplies and weapons he didn't leave with. He claimed he and Carrie were attacked, that they were only defending themselves."

"Against these people from Ohio," Reg spoke up in defence. "We've heard about them. Aaron showed us their map."

"If they're the same group who attacked you at the construction site," Deanna began. "Then I don't see defending themselves as being unwarranted."

"At the construction site, it wasn't only Rick as witness!" Aidan argued. "That morning, it was just him and Carrie. Now he gave us his side of the story, but Carrie? She wouldn't say a word about what happened. I think he told her to keep her mouth shut."

"You don't know that."

"You should have seen her, Mom! She was smiling and nodding like nothing was wrong, like they hadn't been attacked or anything."

"She was probably upset," Spencer suggested.

"Yeah, no shit, he-"

"Aidan, son," Reg began, cutting him off. "You weren't there, so you don't know what happened. Don't be hasty to judgement."

"What do you think happened?" Deanna pressed, hearing him out. "In your opinion, hasty or not."

"Honestly? I don't know for sure. Maybe they were attacked, or maybe they were the aggressors."

"What do you think?"

"I think…I think Rick started it. I think he saw the opportunity, and he took it, and he took Carrie along for the ride with him."

Carol looked up at Rick, and her expression clearly conveyed that she was awaiting his clarification. "It was self-defence," he said, not going into any details about Granger and Carrie.

"He was evasive about it," Aidan continued. "I had to pry an explanation out of him. And Carrie? Like I said, she wouldn't say a word. I asked her too, and she told me to just talk to Rick."

"I think you're being hasty, son," Reg repeated. "No, no…I know I wasn't there, but neither were you. You've got no evidence that Rick did anything malicious. You've got no proof that he attacked without justification."

"What was the second occasion?" Deanna enquired, keeping their discussion moving.

"Yesterday, when they were attacked at the construction site. Now as for what happened there, Aaron was one of those who went to back them up. I believe his version of events. But when they came back to the gas station, and Rick was one roughing up this woman he had hostage, he-"

"Wait," Deanna cut him off. "He was roughing up a woman?"

"Yes. He had her tied up, he was yelling at her, practically dragging her along the road, and I get it…taking hostages is smart, and they weren't exactly cooperating. But he took her inside the gas station, and I couldn't see what went on in there."

"Then why are you concerned?" Reg pressed. "If you couldn't see what happened in there, then you have no justification to assume that it was anything inappropriate or excessive. From what Aaron told us, these were very bad people…taking hostages sounded like the smart thing for them to do."

"How many hostages did he kill?" Deanna asked.

"None. He let them go, this other group pissed off, and we hit the road. After we left, we drove for a while, and then Rick insisted on going back. He was paranoid they were following us."

"Given what this group did to you, why are you surprised?" Spencer asked. "If you were a day away from home, I'd want to make sure they weren't following us."

"Yeah, me too, I get it," Aidan clarified, trying to explain. "But why does he have to lie about it? Huh? Why can't he just come out and say it? People were following us, and he killed them."

"Maybe he's afraid of being judged by assholes like you?" Spencer said next, not caring if he upset his brother. "Don't give me that look. If I had…killed someone, I don't think I'd be sharing that with everyone…least of all someone who already doesn't like me."

"You're missing the point," Aidan argued. "He-"

"No, I don't think I am. No offence, but it kind of sounds like you've got it in for Rick…well, come on! You've had it in for Glenn ever since that first run. Now Rick sucker punches you over a screw up, and you've got it in for him too."

"Mom?" Aidan appealed, looking for support. "Dad?"

"Your brother raises a point," Deanna acknowledged. "You respected Rick well enough when you left this supply run. Now you're giving him a hard time over something you don't even know for sure happened."

"But if it did-"

"That's a very big if…and a very judgemental one at that. Rick is not the only one who has killed a person."

There was silence now, and even though he couldn't see the people, Rick could feel the tension and discomfort. "That was in self-defence," Aidan said, his voice rather quiet. "You know it was."

"From the sound of it, so was what Rick did. You have no proof otherwise."

There was more silence now, and Carol took the opportunity to look at Rick again. "You punched him?" she asked in awe.

"Yes," he admitted.

"You must be Glenn's hero."

Rick shook his head. "He's his own hero. He punched Nicholas."

"Who did he kill?" she asked next. "Aidan? Who did he kill in self-defence?"

Shrugging, for this was the first he had heard of it, Rick was unconcerned. Despite the pleasant and friendly facade of Alexandria, the people here had history, they'd all had to survive in one way or another before reaching this safety. Waiting patiently for the Monroe's to continue, Rick glanced over at the baby monitor. Judith was still awake in her crib, sucking her pacifier as she stroked the piece of brown fabric against her cheek. As soon as he managed to find it amongst their stuff, Rick knew he was going to have to start giving her the stuffed yellow duck he had taken from Walmart instead of his own shirt…at least the duck hadn't once been covered in Walker guts. She was happy enough for now, and seeing that her eyes occasionally flickered shut, Rick was content to let her be.

"Tomorrow before we start the supplies, I'll arrange a proper debrief with Rick" Deanna remarked softly, breaking the silence. "And later, Carrie too. At the very least, I should find out her side of what happened the other week."

"Good luck with that…I'm pretty sure she and Rick are sleeping together."

Swearing under his breath, Rick clenched his hand into a fist, infuriated with Aidan. Trust him to finally figure that out and then tell Deanna.

"How do you know?"

"Just a suspicion."

"And to think I was going to ask you to stay away from her," Deanna mused, sounding amused.

"Why?"

There was a short pause, Deanna considering her answer. "I like Carrie, she's a remarkable woman, but I suspect she's suffered terribly out there. She didn't say it outright…in fact her refusal to tell me is what makes me think that way. For now, I'd like you to leave her be until she settles in."

"Then why aren't you telling Rick to stay away from her?" Aidan asked, a tinge of jealousy in his voice.

"Like I said, I will need to talk to Carrie."

"Aidan," Reg spoke up now, a tone of warning in his voice. "You keep your suspicions about Rick and Carrie to yourself, you hear me? You too, Spencer. I don't expect Carl knows, and he'd better not hear it from anyone in this family."

"Your father's right. Is that clear?"

"Yeah," Spencer agreed, Aidan echoing him a moment later.

There was yet another short pause now, and when Deanna spoke, it was clear the conversation was over for now. "I appreciate your honesty and opinion, Aidan. However, I do think you're being too hasty."

"I knew you'd side with him."

"It's not about taking sides. It's about considering all possibilities, giving everyone the chance to have their say."

"Yeah? Well by now they've got their stories straight."

"What about the rest of the run?" Reg enquired. "Except for the major problems, I got the impression from Aaron that it went well overall."

"That fact that all those who left came back is a good indication," Deanna remarked.

"Yeah," Aidan agreed, although he sounded reluctant. "It was good," he acknowledged. "Their group work well together…we all did."

"They know what they're doing?"

"Yeah, they do." Aidan gave a long sigh, and what sounded like a mug was placed on the table. "You know he still wants people armed inside the walls?"

"I'm aware."

"Sweet Heart," Reg began gently. "Perhaps it's something we should consider. These two attacks…that doesn't bode well for us."

"It is being considered," she said diplomatically. "It's an ongoing concern for me. But we all know what happened last time we allowed people to be armed inside the walls."

"We dealt with that."

"Yes, we did," she admitted. "But does that mean we allow the problem to occur again?"

Yet again there was another pause, the family sitting in silence as they each digested what Aidan had told them, and the potential implications. Finally, the sound of scraping chairs indicated that someone was getting up.

"Thanks for the coffee, Mom," Aidan began. "I'm going to take a shower."

Spencer scoffed. "About time, big brother. I was worried your stench would seep into the curtains."

"I've missed you," Deanna said sincerely.

"The same…you too Dad."

As the sound of Aidan's footsteps echoed, Spencer protested, "What about me? You didn't miss me?"

"No way."

Though he'd hoped that this was the end of the conversation, Rick listened a little longer, a decision that paid off. After another minute or so, Reg asked Spencer to give him and Deanna some privacy, indicating that their conversation was not yet concluded. Having to wait until Spencer departed, Rick looked back at the monitor and saw that Judith was asleep now. Very much looking forward to joining her, he was glad when Deanna and Reg resumed their conversation, though they kept their voices much lower this time.

"Sweet Heart, regardless of what may or may not be going on between Rick and Carrie," Reg warned her. "You need to be very careful about this. Don't go bringing up subjects that you're not qualified to argue."

"Such as?"

"Such as…the lengths one must go to in order to defend themselves. The things Aidan brought up? He's right to be concerned…but he's also wrong. If Rick did indeed kill those people, a part of me is okay with that."

"That surprises me."

"It surprises me too," he remarked thoughtfully. "I see Rick as a man of integrity. I don't see him attacking people just because he can. Whatever he did…he did it to protect people, to protect our people."

"I trust Rick," she acknowledged. "But we don't know him. We welcomed him here, and we need him…but we don't know him."

"I do not see malice in his heart."

"Did we see malice in Allan? Did we see it in Pete?"

Rick frowned at this, looking to Carol. "What's Pete done?" he muttered, wishing she could answer with more than a shrug.

"No, we didn't see that in them. But we dealt with them."

"Yes, we did."

"We would deal with Rick too, if we had to."

"What do you think, Dear?" Deanna asked. "About what Aidan said."

"Honestly? I feel that Aidan's judgement is hasty. At the very least, Rick should have the opportunity to defend himself."

"Yes," Deanna agreed. "You might be right."

"My God…could we have that on record? Did you just say that I'm right?"

"No," Deanna chuckled. "No, my love, I said you might be right."

As their conversation lapsed and changed course, Rick and Carol listened a little while longer before taking out the earphones, having heard enough. Shutting down the laptop, Rick rubbed the bridge of his nose as he let the conversation they had just overheard sink in. Though he had realised that Aidan was generally suspicious of what had happened the morning after the herd, he was surprised by the extent to which he mistrusted him.

"Well that's no surprise," Carol muttered. "They still don't like you. They've already got plans for how to deal with you."

"We knew they did," Rick agreed. "That's why I wanted Abraham in charge of the supply run."

"So you'd seem less threatening?"

"Yes."

Carol scoffed. "Well, judging by the things you had to do, and the fact you've now punched Deanna's son, that didn't quite go to plan."

"No," he agreed. "What do you think they meant about Pete?"

Frowning, Carol considered this. "She said they dealt with the problem…doesn't that mean she exiled him? Maybe she means a different Pete?"

"A different Pete?"

"It's possible."

"Do you think you could find out?" he asked, hoping to take advantage of Carol's deceptively innocent facade. "Find out if they're talking about the same Pete, and what happened last time people were armed inside the walls."

"It sounds like someone might have gone off the rails. That's so much of a stretch these days."

"Do you think you can find out?"

Carol nodded. "I'll let you know when I do. She mentioned talking to you."

"We did that yesterday," he reminded her. "We didn't go into any of this though, into any details about the people I had to kill."

"What about Carrie? Has she spoken to her yet?"

"I don't know. I haven't spoken to her since yesterday." Rick sighed, running his hand through his hair. "We should give her a heads up about it."

"No," Carol said abruptly. "I want to know what she says."

"And you will," he said, gesturing to the computer.

"I want to know what she says when she's taken by surprise."

"Carol," he groaned in exasperation. It had been two days since Carrie's arrival, and yet Carol still had not relaxed her mistrust. "What Deanna is going to bring up…it will be upsetting for Carrie."

"Why?"

"Because it will," he said sharply, his tone indicating he didn't want to say any more on the subject. "I'm giving her a heads up."

"No."

Surprised by her insistence, Rick frowned at her. There was a long stalemate as they looked at each other blankly. "What has she done?" he demanded impatiently.

"Who, Carrie?"

"Yes. What has she done to get your nose? Is because I slept with her?"

"No," she shook her head. "It's what she hasn't done."

"Such as?"

"She hasn't proven herself to me."

"Well she has to me."

"Good to know," Carol said nonchalantly. "She needs to prove herself to me. What she says to Deanna is an opportunity for her to do exactly that. If you give her a heads up, how can I know?"

"Carrie doesn't need your approval, she has mine."

"So?" Carol shrugged, unperturbed by his frustration with her. "I don't care what you think of her. I'm going to make my judgement too."

"Yo-"

"I've been nothing but welcoming to her," Carol argued. Rising from the bed, she picked up the laptop and returned it to its hiding place in her closet. "I haven't given her a hard time. I've done exactly as you've asked me too."

Following her lead, Rick too rose to his feet. "You're treating her like one of them," he said lowly, referring to the Alexandrians. Despite having barely seen Carrie over the last two days, he had picked up on the way Carol acted around her.

"Yes," she said unapologetically. "She is one of them…to me anyway."

"She's not an idiot. She knows you're playing her, she can smell bullshit."

"Good. I hope so. Maybe she can smell some of theirs."

"Carol," he sighed, hoping to make her understand. "You need to-"

"Why are you making a big deal out of this? All I'm asking for is the opportunity to make my own judgement about a woman I don't know."

"You're going about it the wrong way," he warned her. "And your judgement of her is not needed."

"It is," Carol argued. "She's living with us now, Rick. Right down the hall from the children you entrust me to protect. I want to form my own opinion of her."

"Do you not trust mine?"

"Of course I do."

"Then why this?"

She looked at him with close scrutiny. "Why do you care?" she asked bluntly. "If you trust Carrie so much, then you shouldn't need to warn her what to say."

"I'm not warning her what to say. I'm warning her so she's prepared for what Deanna brings up."

"The scuffle with the people you killed? I'm sure it was very upsetting for her. She can deal with it," she said unkindly.

"It's more than that," he hissed, thinking of Granger. If Deanna went and brought up that day, pestering Carrie for an explanation then it would only be opening up old wounds that she didn't want to explore. "If Deanna springs that question on her, I don't know how she'll take it."

"Either tell me what the problem is," Carol bargained. "Or agree to not warn her."

"I can't tell you," he said in frustration.

"Then don't warn her. Let Deanna bring it up, and we can find out where her loyalties lie."

"Her loyalty? You're concerned about her loyalty?"

"Well shouldn't I be? She's not one of us, Rick!"

"Yes, she is," he said furiously, trying to keep his temper in check. "I said she is, that's all that should matter."

"No," Carol shook her head. "You've known her only in the capacity that she wanted something from you."

"She's not like that! She was not using us just to get to Alexandria."

"She's has no shared experiences with us," Carol continued, her volume escalating to match his. "Her loyalty might be to you, or it might be to the roof over her head."

"The roof provided by me!"

"No, provided by Deanna."

Growling under his breath, Rick clenched his jaw so that he didn't say something harsh, knowing it would be ineffective. "You don't know her, Carol."

"That's exactly my point," she readily agreed. "I've known her two days. What did you think of her after two days? Or were you already screwing her?"

Barely managing to withhold the words that were on the tip of his tongue, Rick took a deep breath, infuriated by the unconcerned look Carol had. "I am not thinking with my dick."

"I never said you were. All I'm asking for is the opportunity to have Carrie prove herself to me. She can't do that if you warn her what's coming."

"And what's the measure of her loyalty? What are the words you have to hear from her in order to get your approval?"

"A polite 'fuck you' to Deanna would suffice."

"You want her to say that?"

"At the very least, I want her to tell Deanna that what happened between you and the people you killed is none of her business."

"She'll probably tell Deanna the truth, and I'm not worried about that," he tried to explain. "I don't care if Deanna knows."

"Then why are you so concerned about warning Carrie?"

"I told you!" he growled, impatient with their circular argument. "If Deanna springs this on her, she'll be upset."

"Why do you care? You're screwing her, Rick, that doesn't make you her guardian angel."

"It's not that simple, what happened was bad."

"Tell me what happened…tell me what was so bad that Carrie is going to be so upset?"

"I can't," he repeated loudly. "I told you, I can't."

"Fine!" Carol shouted. "Then give me the chance to make my judgement, because until I know whether her loyalty is to you or Deanna, I don't trust her!"

"You can, because I'm telling you to!"

Carol simply shook her head.

"What she says to Deanna doesn't prove her loyalty!"

"It does to me."

Sick of this argument, Rick clenched his jaw and turned away from her, heading for the door.

"Do not tell her, Rick," Carol called out after him. "Do not t-"

Furious with her, he slammed the door and cut her off. Hearing a nearby window rattle in response, he cleared his throat and reigned in his temper, knowing there were people downstairs who had probably been privy to some of their louder remarks. Trying not to stomp his feet too loudly, Rick marched down stairs and made his way to the front door. As he suspected, Michonne and Carl were serving dinner in the kitchen, the awkward silence and averted eyes indicating that they had heard some of their argument, though it was unlikely they knew what or who it was about. Stopping only to shrug on his jacket, he assured Michonne he'd be back shortly before leaving. In his usual place, Daryl was sitting on the porch railing smoking, but he too averted his eyes, for which Rick was grateful.

Fuming, he crossed the porch and headed down the front steps, glaring at his feet before he looked up ahead of himself. His heart leapt when he found Carrie heading down the sidewalk towards him, a silver laptop and stack of paperwork under her arm. Approaching him in the darkness, she appeared to give him a friendly smile, though it began to fade when she saw the look on his face. In a moment of spite towards Carol, he briefly considered warning Carrie about what Deanna was going to ask her…he knew he ought to, for her sake. He even started taking a step towards her, but as though he could feel Carol looking over his shoulder, Rick clenched his jaw and turned away.

He knew that this was the second time that day that Carrie had innocently been on the receiving end of his foul glares, but he didn't have it in him to do anything about it. He was seething in anger, both at Carol, and at Deanna. While Reg appeared to speak in his defence, erring on the side of non-judgement, Deanna it seemed still didn't quite see his perspective of the world. She mistrusted his judgement…she already had plans for how to deal with him.

Making his way around Alexandria, Rick forced himself to slow down his pace, knowing he wouldn't calm down if he kept up the angry march he had started. Looking at each of the houses as he went by, Rick was glad to note that everyone now routinely pulled their blinds at night, that they kept their lights low and only used them as required. The glow from Alexandria was far reaching in the woods outside, and was a major draw to Walkers during the night. His family also kept their bedroom doors closed as they slept, a measure they had taken in the wake of what happened the night Patrick died in D Block. He wondered how many of the Alexandrian's did this each night.

It was nearly seven thirty at night now, and he wondered just how long he could stay out here…the coward in him wanted to avoid Carol that evening, to avoid both further conflict and the forced politeness that would eventually see them to the other side of this argument. He knew that's what would happen though…they were both mature adults, they knew how to have an argument and then move on from it. Certainly they'd disagreed with one another enough over the last year or so, but they'd never failed to move past it. Despite his confidence in this, Rick stayed away from home until he was certain that he had cooled down. Before the outbreak he'd been rather even tempered, and it was a rare moment that he had to leave a situation before he said or did something he'd regret. Thankfully, that was a side of him Lori had rarely seen in those days, exercised only on the more difficult days at work…though perhaps that side of him had been what she wanted to see.

Still making his way around the walls, Rick slowed as he approached the back of Pete and Jessie's house, hearing an argument coming from the garage. Given the loud argument he and Carol had just engaged in, Rick didn't feel cause for alarm, though he did linger for a moment or two, listening to the voices. Whatever Pete and Jessie were saying was inaudible, but barely a minute later their voices died down, the argument concluded. A part of Rick wanted them to keep going, for something to escalate and this requiring his intervention, but he knew he was only delaying the inevitable. Looking further two houses down, he knew he couldn't avoid it forever. He and Carol had to face each other eventually, they had to break the ice and move on with things.

Reminding himself that tomorrow was Judith's birthday, Rick took a deep breath and then headed home.

* * *

A/N - Thanks for the great reviews, it's such a pleasure to know how you're enjoying the story. And welcome/thanks for the new reviewers, it's great to see new names popping up along with the usuals :-)


	7. Chapter 7

As he expected he might, Rick roused on Monday morning to the feeling of a tiny hand patting his face and the smell of a full diaper. Having been asleep in the bed next to him for the entire night, Judith roused at the crack of dawn like she did every day, not understanding how badly her father needed to sleep in. He cracked his eyes open and looked at his daughter, knowing that she was oblivious to the fact that it was her first birthday. Prioritising the desire to get up and eat, Judith repeatedly patted his face to awaken him. Groaning, he caught her fist in his hand and gave it a kiss, glad to see her smile. Having learnt not to put it off, he forced himself to get up and fetch a new diaper, quickly cleaning her up and putting the soiled one in the diaper pail. Needing to rest, he convinced Judith to lay in bed a little longer, coaxing her into his arms and shushing her disgruntled protests. He didn't want her to wake Carl earlier than necessary.

Peppering soft kisses to her forehead, he breathed a sigh of relief when she reluctantly snuggled into his chest, allowing him to rest a little while longer. While she huffed to herself impatiently, Rick glanced over at Carl who was asleep beside him, too far away in the king sized bed for him to reach out and touch. This was the moment he'd been longing for, the times like this when peacefulness won out over the chaos of the world, and he could just be with his kids, his family. Though one was asleep and the other impatient for her breakfast, Rick was completely content, despite the other person who he knew ought to be in this bed with them. The way he held Judith now was not unlike the way he held Lori exactly a year ago, during their second night in the prison.

They'd just finished their remarkably short conversation about what a shitty wife she was, and though Rick hadn't been the one to verbalise it that way, he regretted that he hadn't corrected her. At the very least he owed her some sort of comfort, despite the hurt she had rendered him so many months ago. Holding onto a grudge was easier than forgiving it, and the words he would need to say to Lori were too difficult to say. He had wanted to tell her that their many years of marriage was not going to crumble that easily, that he was willing to fight for it…he just didn't know how to say it. The part of him that held the grudge wanted her to keep suffering the way he was, to keep experiencing the loneliness and betrayal he had felt the moment she had turned away from him the day after they left the farm. It was cruel of him, he knew that…but how was he supposed to turn it all around?

The only comfort he felt following her death was that he had tried, even though the fact that he couldn't verbalise it still made him feel like a coward. Their second night in the cell block, with Herschel stabilised and Maggie and Beth watching over him, Rick had joined Lori in her cell. Initially he and Carl had shared a cell together, Carl having spent the last few months siding with his father despite not completely understanding the root of the division. Knowing he had allowed that to go on for too long, Rick had roused Carl from his sleep and brought him into Lori's cell, helping him up onto the top bunk. Confused, Lori had looked up at him as he did so, but she was even more confused when Rick laid down alongside her on the bottom bunk. He could feel the relief in her body, in the body that had starved and suffered in order to support the baby that would soon be born.

They had slept alongside each other many nights on the road, particularly during the colder nights when they needed to keep Carl warm. But that night was different, and was the only comfort Rick felt upon reflection of her death. He joined her that night because he didn't know how else to tell her that he loved her, that despite everything she had done, her poor decisions, the way she had turned from him in disgust…he forgave her. That he was sorry too…that was the hardest part for him to acknowledge. He'd planned to tell her properly, but he'd always been looking too far ahead, trying to get the whole group through each and every day alive. His worst mistake was always believing that he would have enough time for him and Lori to fix things…he kept putting it off.

Now a year later, three of them spent the night together again, but this time it was Judith instead of Lori asleep beside him. He supposed he ought to say that it as a good trade off, because he knew that Lori would never have wanted to live if it meant her baby died…but sometimes it was hard to think that way. Sometimes in his darker moments, Rick wished that Judith had never been conceived, that something terrible had happened to prevent the pregnancy carrying on. These darker thoughts always passed quickly, and he knew that they weren't a true reflection of how he felt about his much loved daughter. Yet despite the fact that it felt more like ten years had passed, not one, he still hurt every time he went to look for Lori, to tell her something out of habit…and then he remembered. On peaceful mornings like this one, he still found himself rolling over and reaching to seek out her warm body beside his…it was a kick in the guts every time he remembered she wouldn't ever be there again.

Opening his eyes a short while later, for he could hear Judith beginning to fuss again, Rick peered down at her against his chest, smiling at her blonde hair. Much to everyone's surprise, Carl had started out as blonde too, and if she were anything like him then over the next few months it would start to darken. Already it was curling at the base of her neck like Carl's did…like Rick's did too. Pushing that thought out of his head, for he actively did not look for his own physical traits in Judith, Rick smiled as he brushed his fingers through her hair, eliciting a grunt from her. At the moment, the light blonde hair reminded him of Carrie's, though this thought too made him feel ill at ease.

It was a struggle having Carrie in the house right now, not because he hadn't yet adjusted to the presence of someone else, but because of the difficulty he felt in restraining himself. He had known things would be different when they got home to Alexandria, but he hadn't anticipated how badly it might affect him. Carrie had occupied a great deal of his thoughts over the weekend, and not just from him worrying about how she was settling in. The kiss he had given her that first night…the kiss they had shared Saturday afternoon…given the long, difficult day he had yesterday, Rick spent a great deal of time playing that over in his head again. With an uncomfortable pang, he remembered something he had momentarily forgotten, the mixed signals he'd been sending Carrie yesterday, the foul glares she'd accidentally been on the receiving end of. He was going to have to fix that, to reassure her that everything was fine…but how? The chance for them to be alone was rare at the moment.

With a frustrated sigh he thought back to the previous night, about the argument he and Carol had after listening to the Monroe family. Although she didn't say it, Rick could feel Carol's disapproval not just of Carrie, but of the fact that he was sleeping with her. The fact that he was a grown man seemed to have slipped her mind, although he admittedly understood her desire to make her own decisions about Carrie. To an extent Carol was right…if Rick entrusted her to protect his children day in and day out, then she should form her own level of trust with the people who lived in their home. She just didn't understand thought…she was going about trusting Carrie the wrong way.

"Ahbahd!" Judith told him sternly, smacking his cheek with her hand.

"Hey, now," he scolded her softly, catching her hand. "Be gentle…"

"Ahbahd," she repeated as she sat up.

Groaning, for it was clear Judith's patience was at its limit, Rick reluctantly acquiesced. As he too sat up he glanced over at his alarm clock, pleased to find he'd actually managed to sleep in until seven thirty. Quelling Judith's demands that he get up, he glanced over at Carl who slept on, blissfully unaware of his sister's demands.

"Carl. Get up."

"No," he groaned when Rick roused him properly. "I'm sleeping in."

"I'm making pancakes," he warned him, taking Judith's pacifier out of her mouth and swinging her onto his hip. "Get up or you'll miss out."

"Mom wants me to sleep in."

"No, she doesn't." Grabbing the blankets, he tore them off his son and revelled in the way he cringed and groaned.

"Dad!" he moaned, covering his eyes when Rick opened the blinds. "Seriously, go away…"

"You got ten minutes," he warned him, making sure the blankets were too far away for him to pull up again.

Leaving Carl to whine, Rick shared a smile with Judith as they headed downstairs, though he lingered on the upstairs threshold to see who was awake. Carol and Michonne's doors were both open, indicating that they had already left the house, Michonne doing the morning rounds so that Rick could sleep in. Carol would likely be with Natalie for an hour or so, and it was a likely guess that Daryl had gone hunting before the sun arose. Looking down the hallway at the only door that remained closed, Rick listened to the sound of running water, figuring that Carrie must be in the shower. For a very brief moment he allowed himself to picture her in there, standing naked under the running water while she -

Judith grunted at him impatiently, patting his cheek again to get him moving. Apologising, and simultaneously telling himself to get it together, he headed downstairs but delayed her breakfast long enough to do something he'd been looking forward to. Taking a pencil from the kitchen drawer, Rick brought Judith to the frame of the archway and then crouched down. Managing to convince her to stand up, he hastily marked her height on the frame and then wrote her name and the date. He and Lori had done this with Carl on each of his birthdays, marking his height on the frame of the kitchen door. When he showed Judith what he'd done, she was rather unimpressed, not that he had expected anything else when she was waiting for breakfast. Getting on with it, he put her into the high chair and then went straight for the pot of coffee, pouring himself a cup and thanking whoever had started it. While Judith patiently began awaiting her breakfast, Rick rubbed his forehead as he began reading the note that had been left on the bench, recognising Carol's neat, cursive writing.

Understanding both his strengths and weaknesses, Carol had left him detailed instructions for the pancakes, even going to the extent of getting out the ingredients and utensils he would need. Reading her instructions, Rick smiled to himself grimly…despite their argument and the impasse they had reached, he and Carol didn't let it get in the way. There was more to discuss, and he suspected that one of them would force the other's hand, but for now it didn't matter, particularly given today's occasion. Looking up at the bench in the corner, he smiled to find that Carol had also set out two boxes of cake mix, cans of frosting, baking pans and the electric mixer…hell, she'd even drawn a diagram for how he should make the number one shape. Standing there and taking in the effort Carol had gone to on his behalf, for his daughter, he forced himself to acknowledge that she was right. Although he stood by the arguments he had made, Carol had the right to form her own opinions about Carrie. Hell, if it were anyone but Carrie, Rick would be thanking Carol for double checking him, for having his back.

Sipping at his coffee and rereading the instructions, Rick got to work, knowing he'd have to make Judith some toast to abate her hunger until the pancakes were ready. As he opened the pantry and looked at the container where they kept their bread he felt another twinge of guilt…Carol had even gone to the trouble of cutting a few slices for him, knowing he could never cut it straight. Feeling bad for the way their argument escalated last night, Rick cooked Judith a piece of toast and poured himself another coffee. With pancakes, a birthday cake, celebrations and then the welcome party that evening, today seemed likely to be more exhausting than the two days of unloading supplies.

"I'm up," Carl declared proudly, entering the kitchen on his crutches. "Happy now?"

"It's your sister's birthday, not mine," Rick shrugged, although he was indeed happy that Carl was awake. Grabbing the pencil and pointing Carl towards the archway, he went through the same process he had with Judith, ignoring Carl's protests that he was too old for this type of thing. "It's not for you, it's for me. Now stand still…done."

"You have weird priorities," Carl muttered, peppering Judith with kisses and then wishing her happy birthday. "What do you want help with?"

"You can start measuring flour into the bowl," he instructed, indicating to Carol's instructions. "Sift it…we're going for no lumps today."

The two of them got to work, Rick testing his skills by daring to manage two pans on the stove top. When the pans were hot enough he poured the batter in and watched as it gently sizzled and began to bubble. His first attempt turned our rather misshapen, but figuring that Judith wouldn't mind, he gave that one to her first.

"What will she like on it?" Carl asked.

"A little bit of peanut butter. Not maple syrup," he added, knowing Carl would suggest that. "She won't like it."

"She might."

Though he knew better, Rick allowed Carl to give her a taste of the sweet syrup, amused by the way she screwed up her face. In recent months she'd gone off sweet tastes, and refused all offers of carrots and sweet potato. Her preference these days was the crispness of cucumber and slightly bitter apples, meaning the task of making her a birthday cake wasn't so straight forward. Hoping she liked it, Rick watched as Carl smeared generous amounts of peanut butter onto a pancake and cut it up for her. As he knew she would, Judith licked the peanut butter off before being coaxed into trying the pancake itself, and she seemed pleasantly surprised by the warmth and texture.

"When can she open her presents?" Carl asked, looking over at the dining room table where there were gifts waiting. Carol must have set them out last night.

"Later. Everyone will come around after lunch."

"We can't do any now?"

Rick shook his head, knowing they'd already established plans for a quiet morning and then cake and presents in the afternoon. "No, she can wait for everyone to be here."

Reluctantly agreeing, Carl ditched all pretence of helping as soon as the first decent pancake was ready. Smothering it in marshmallow fluff, he rolled it up like a crepe and moaned at the first bite. "That's good, Dad…better than Mom's."

"Thank God." Leaving the batter to sizzle in the pan, he came over and took a bite of the other end. "Mmm, damn. I am good."

"I helped."

"You sifted the flour."

"Well, apparently that's the hard part," he muttered, his mouth full. There was a short pause as Carl ate, but as soon as he swallowed he kept talking. "Remember how on my birthday, I would get into bed with you and Mom to open my presents?"

Rick nodded, glad that Carl still remembered happy moments of his childhood like that. "I'd always tell you there were no cake or presents this year, that Mom forgot."

Carl laughed as he nodded. "How come you always waited until after work to open your presents?"

Rick just shrugged. "You were asleep before I'd go to work. Besides, once you turn thirty, your birthday's aren't that exciting anymore."

"Speak for yourself," Carrie remarked cheerfully, entering the kitchen. "I still love my birthday."

Looking around, Rick held his breath as she came into the kitchen and laid her bag out on the bench. Smiling at Judith and wishing her a happy birthday, Carrie comfortably moved about the kitchen, knowing where everything that she needed was located. As he flipped one of the pancakes over, Rick watched her from the corner of his eye, admiring the shorts she wore that showed off her long legs…he could clearly see the bruise on her shin today, and it looked damn painful. Looking past that, he noted that her long blonde hair was still wet from the shower…the shower he was actively not thinking about.

"No way," Carl smiled at her. "You're not a day over twenty five."

Carrie laughed loudly, the sound of it setting Rick's stomach alight with butterflies. He clenched his jaw…he shouldn't be thinking that way about her today, he shouldn't be letting her affect him like that…not today.

"Geez, Carl. Did your Dad teach you to flatter like that?"

"No, Glenn did."

"Aren't you having breakfast?" Rick asked, seeing she was pouring her coffee into a travel mug.

"No, I've got to get to the Pantry," she said, brushing off his concern. "I'm still working on getting the inventory computerised."

Looking around, Rick was surprised to see that Carl had opened up Carrie's laptop, and he was about to scold him before realising she didn't mind. Eagerly looking though whatever it was she was working on, Carl was smiling as marshmallow fluff dripped off the end of his pancake.

"Cool," he said in awe, his eyes roving all over the screen. "Where's the one for the armoury?"

"I haven't done any more work on it," she told him, looking over his shoulder.

"How did you do this?" he frowned, pointing to something.

"Click on this cell here. No, D3…yeah, you see the formula up top? That's how you get this column here."

"Where did you get the formula?"

"I just know it, but it's in the guide Olivia has. I'll show it to you sometime."

Not wanting her to feel as though she had to leave just because it was Judith's birthday, Rick compelled her to stay a little longer. Choosing the best pancake he had cooked so far, he slid it onto a plate and then put it down on the bench, indicating to Carrie that it was for her.

"Aren't these for Judith?" she asked. Just as he suspected, it sounded as though she didn't want to intrude on a family celebration.

"No," Carl answered absently, still looking at the computer. "We're making them for my mom. No lumps though."

"Lumps?" she enquired, thanking Rick as he gestured to the array of spreads Carl had set out.

"My mom was really bad at making pancakes."

Carrie laughed at this, spreading some strawberry jelly on hers. Just like Carl did, she rolled hers up into a tube, smiling as strawberry jelly dripped onto her fingers. There was a smile on her face as she ate, she and Carl still looking at the spreadsheet on her laptop.

"This is good," she smiled at Rick. "Thank you."

 _It ought'a be good, that's the one I was saving for me_ , he thought to himself. "No problem."

"I should go," she insisted, licking her fingers and then stacking her plate in the dishwasher. Hastily washing her hands, she closed the laptop and slipped it back into her bag along with the stack of paperwork. "Olivia's expecting me. Thanks for breakfast."

Just nodding, Rick tried not to watch her go, knowing his eyes would be following her long legs more than they should. Rather he focused on the growing stack of pancakes, wondering if he ought to start a second batch. Carl and Judith were ploughing through the first lot without struggle, and the others would be home soon, they too seeking breakfast.

"Dad," Carl began, making another pancake for Judith. "How did you propose to Mom?"

"How did I propose?" he asked, surprised by the sudden question.

"Yeah. What did you say?"

Rick gave a short laugh. "That was a long time ago. I don't remember."

"Come on…tell me something."

Racking his brains, and knowing Lori would have remembered in an instant, Rick slowly began to remember. As he recalled his nervousness and determination to make sure everything went perfectly that night, he laughed at his own expense when he remembered exactly what happened.

"It wasn't very romantic," he warned Carl. "Your mom already knew I was going to ask her."

"So? Tell me."

"We went to Orlando for the weekend, and we were driving that old blue pick up I used to own. You've seen the pictures of it, right? It broke down twice on the way," he said, amused by Carl's laughter. "We got to Orlando, and I took your mom to the fanciest restaurant I could afford."

"Did you put the ring in her champagne?"

"No, thank God. We sat down, and this restaurant was so fancy the waiters actually put the napkins in your lap. And there was so much stuff on the table. Candles, flowers…there were about three sets of cutlery I think, and neither of us knew what to do with them."

"Why would you need all that?"

"Beat us," he shrugged. "Everything on the menu was expensive, and your Mom and I were just trying not to laugh, because we didn't even know what half the food was. We were afraid to even drink the water. We weren't fancy people who needed three forks, so we left without ordering."

"Where did you go?"

Rick smiled to himself, knowing Carl would like this part. "I asked your mom what she was hungry for, and so we went to Jack in the Box."

Carl burst out laughing, Judith copying him. "Seriously?"

"Cross my heart. We looked ridiculous, all dressed up sitting on the hood of my truck, right next to a dumpster…your Mom didn't care though. We were eating, and she got sick of waiting. She just told me to hurry up and do it already. Said both our moms were waiting for us to call with the news."

"And then you just asked her?" Carl said, sounding a little disappointed.

"Yeah. I told you it wasn't very romantic. After that we walked a couple of blocks, found a payphone and called our parents."

"How did she know you were going to ask?"

Rick flipped the pancake and then hastily fixed it when one corner folded over. "It was kind of obvious when I told her I'd booked a romantic weekend."

"What did you do for your Bachelor's party?"

"Went camping."

Carl turned his nose up at this. "Really? That sounds kind of boring. Don't guys usually got to Las Vegas?"

Rick shook his head. "We didn't have the money for something like Vegas. Camping was fun, I had a good time," he assured him.

Their morning continued in this fashion, Carl posing various questions about his Mom and their marriage, Rick desperately trying to remember the finer details. Although it got easier with each question, the memories struggled to come to him at first, that part of his life being entirely separate to what he had now. The outbreak had changed so many things, and it was difficult for Rick to look back on his life and remember times when death wasn't hiding around every corner or behind every tree. But knowing that Carl needed to hear the answers, Rick answered his questions as best he could, despite the strange feeling of guilt that grew in the pit of his stomach.

As much as he would spend this day thinking of Lori, Rick's thoughts were equally occupied by Carrie, despite his efforts to the contrary. Carrie was a part of his present life, whereas in a way it felt like his marriage to Lori had belonged to someone else entirely. That was difficult for him to comprehend, particularly given that today was Judith's birthday. Yet despite the focus on Lori and Judith, his wife's memory still felt rather distant to him. Unlike the first wedding anniversary that had passed without Lori, this morning Rick felt at ease…he missed her, and yet at the same time he didn't, his thoughts more preoccupied by a different woman.

He hoped Carrie hadn't hastened her departure because she felt she wasn't wanted there on this particular day. The others who hadn't known Lori would be celebrating Judith's birthday, and Carrie should too…she was just as much a part of the group as everyone else, even though it hadn't been for long. Aside from that, Christ…Rick couldn't stop thinking about her, his jaw clenching as he remembered what Carter had said about her yesterday. He liked Carter, and if he were being totally honest the man hadn't done anything other than express his interest in her, respectfully too. Rick couldn't resent him for noticing that Carrie was a beautiful woman, nor for liking the fact that she could hold a conversation. And yet at the same time, he hated the very thought of Carter acting on this interest, or even worse, Carrie reciprocating it.

"Dad, are you okay?"

"Huh?" he said dimly, looking around at Carl.

"You look upset," he remarked softly.

Quickly looking away, Rick felt yet another pang of regret. Carl thought he was upset about Lori, not angry about another man being interested in Carrie…he needed to sort out his priorities.

"I miss her too," Carl said.

Clearing his throat, Rick fixed a suitable expression on his face before looking back at Carl, needing to focus his attention on his children today, not himself. "You know she'd be proud of you."

Rick could see a flicker of both gladness and doubt flash across Carl's face, who simply shrugged as he cut up Judith's next pancake. "Sometimes I don't think so."

"I do," Rick assured him. "I know she would be."

"How?" Carl asked softly, looking at Rick critically. "And don't just say because you were married to her."

"I know," he began, stressing this. "Because I am too." This remark didn't quite get the reaction Rick had hoped for, Carl not seeming convinced. "What is it?"

Carl just shrugged, looking uncomfortable. Rick waited patiently, knowing that Carl would speak only when he was ready, and not a moment before. Turning back to the pancakes, he flipped one over and added more mixture to the other pan, occasionally glancing over his shoulder at Carl to indicate that he was still listening, that he was awaiting an answer.

"Sometimes I…" he started softly, definitely sounding like he didn't want to talk about this. "Sometimes I still think bad things."

"Like what?" Rick pressed.

"Like…like the people we kill deserve it…even though they're probably only trying to survive like we are. Like sometimes I wish I could do it, that I could be the one to kill them."

Rick just nodded, not at all surprised. "Yeah? Me too."

"I know," he said dismissively. "But-"

"Glenn too…and Maggie. Daryl, Michonne, Carol…Noah. Everyone." Rick looked around at him, failing to notice that one of the pancakes was ready to remove. "We all have the same type of thoughts, and we all feel bad about them."

Carl still seemed unconvinced. "I don't see how Mom could be proud of that," he said disheartened.

Knowing he needed to speak honestly, for this was clearly something that weighed on Carl's mind, Rick took his time before answering. Coming over to the island bench, he leant down and put his elbows on it, bringing himself to Carl's eye level. "Your mom and I? We're less concerned about what goes on in here," he began, pointing to Carl's forehead. "And more concerned about what comes out of here," he concluded, pointing to his mouth.

"The things I say?"

"The choices you make," he clarified. "Your actions. What goes on in your head, that's your private business. That's you working through the world, figuring out your place in it. Like I said…Mom and I are more concerned about how you act on what's inside your head."

Carl nodded slowly, and while he still seemed a little unconvinced, he at least seemed to understand. "Okay."

In the back of his mind, Rick noted that something didn't quite smell right.

"I'll be honest…you're not always going to make the right choices, and that's okay. Mom is still proud of you," Rick reminded him, taking his hand despite the fact that it was covered in peanut butter and marshmallow fluff. "So am I."

"Thanks," he said, and Rick could see in his eyes that he had found some solace in this. "Do you…do you ever talk about it?"

Rick didn't need to ask what he was referring to, and though he hated to do it, he knew that this was one of the times that called for him to lie. "Yes. Some times."

"With Daryl?"

"Yes," he lied again. He never talked about what went on inside his head…but with startling realisation, he remembered that he had once. Back at their last night in the prison…he and Carrie got to talking. How much had he said to her? He knew he had shared a lot, that much he was certain of.

Carl nodded and sighed. "I can't wait until I can go hunting with Daryl again."

"You like it out there?" he enquired. Standing up, he let go of Carl's hands and began washing his own, frowning as he wondered what smelt so bad.

"Yeah. It's peaceful…quiet. I get why Daryl goes hunting even when we don't need him to."

"Me too," he agreed, drying his hands. "He-"

A loud noise cut him off, the shrill beeping of the smoke alarm making each of them jump in alarm. As Judith began screaming and the bad smell made sense, Rick turned around to the stove with a long sigh, realising what he had done. Gesturing wildly for Carl to cover his sister's ears, he hastily turned off the knobs and tipped the burnt pancake into the sink. Thinking of the Walkers that could potentially hear this, their house being rather close to the walls, he swiftly climbed onto the counter and reached for the alarm, hitting the button as quickly as he could. As soon as the noise died down he breathed a sigh of relief, though the ordeal wasn't over. Judith was crying rather loudly, thoroughly upset by the loud noise that must have hurt her ears.

Hastening to soothe her, Rick picked her up from the highchair, ignoring Carl who was now mocking him relentlessly. As he expected they might, the neighbours came flocking over one by one to check that everything was alright, Carl standing on the front porch and gleefully telling everyone what had happened. Taking the mockery in good stride, Rick rolled his eyes when Abraham burst out the front door of the second house clad only in a towel, the others reassuring him all was well. Thankfully the fuss died down rather quickly, although Carol made a point of coming home and adding a specific instruction to her list, ' _don't burn the place down'_.

The unwelcome intrusion to her morning set Judith straight down the path of a bad mood, necessitating that Rick give up his attempts to make the pancakes and let Carol take over instead. With Judith having had her fill of breakfast, he cleaned her up and dressed her for the day, setting out something nice for her to wear later. Though he was generally unconcerned by what she wore, so long as it was warm enough for her, today Rick took time to choose her clothing, knowing that Lori would have loved this task. Though he figured Lori might have chosen one of the more elaborate dresses for her only daughter, Rick's taste was a little more conservative. Knowing that Carol would approve of his choices, for she always protested when he chose clashing colours, he chose a bright yellow sundress with a white shirt and leggings underneath.

"Well Dad," Carl began when he and Judith came down a short while later. "I gotta say…not the worst pancake breakfast we've ever had."

* * *

Carrie was nervous when she crossed the porch and headed towards the front door of the infirmary, perfectly on time for her twelve o'clock appointment with Pete. Leaving behind her work at the pantry for a short while, she was fulfilling Deanna's suggestion that she go and get herself checked over by the community's doctor, that she make sure she was in as good health as possible. She'd heard good things about Pete, about the surgeries he'd performed in Alexandria with no assistance and little equipment, about the lives he'd saved…and yet she was nervous. It wasn't Pete that made her nervous, for she'd met him over the weekend, but it was what he might tell her.

She knew there was nothing wrong with her that time and decent food wouldn't fix, but at the same time there was this irrational belief that there might be something terribly wrong, that Pete was about the blow the lid on the true state of her health. Carrie knew she was just being stupid, that seeing the doctor was the logical thing to do to gain reassurance, and with that in mind she clenched her fist and knocked on the infirmary door. It appeared Pete had been eagerly awaiting her arrival, for he opened the door almost straight away and then welcomed her in, his smile wide and genuine. Almost immediately she felt put at ease by his demeanour, his professional and charismatic manner.

Going inside and sitting on the edge of the bed, she simply let Pete get on with things, their consultation starting with the usual small talk before launching into her medical history. As she answered his questions she looked around the infirmary, surprised to see how adequate it seemed. She knew the type of supplies that had been brought back on the supply run, and while Pete was clearly overwhelmed by the extensive medical equipment and supplies, they weren't lacking in the larger equipment either. There were two beds complete with old fashioned curtains to separate them, as well as a proper examination table. It seemed Aidan and Nicholas had done rather well for Alexandria as supply runners.

Making sure she paid sufficient attention to the consultation, she stretched her leg out on the bed, and rolled her yoga pants above her knee so that Pete could properly examine the bruise on her lower left leg. Shining an overhead light on it, he examined the colour and swelling before gently pressing the skin around the area, getting closer and closer until he felt her flinch. Apologising, he moved outward again to where it didn't hurt.

"If it's still hurting this much, you might have bruised the tibia itself," he remarked, gently helping her rotate her ankle. "You said you did this falling over?"

"I ran into the edge of a fountain, and then I fell over."

"What happened immediately after? Did you get straight up again?"

"I rested a bit," she began, trying to remember. "And then I had to go."

Pete nodded, apologising when he accidentally aggravated it again. "And it's been aching and sore ever since?"

"Mainly just over this weekend…on the supply run I spent most of the time in the car. Here I've been spending more time on my feet."

"You might find it takes a while to really recover…if you're planning on supply runs or going outside the walls, I'd warn against it at least until you can walk pain free."

"Okay, I'll keep that in mind."

"You should take some Tylenol or Ibuprofen if you have significant pain, although you should start by elevating it with an ice pack if you can rest it," he continued, rolling away on his stool to start typing at his computer. He opened up a spreadsheet not dissimilar to the one Carrie was making for Olivia. "You can take basic medications from that cabinet over there, you don't need to ask for them. Just leave me a note if anything's running low, but in general there should be plenty of everything in each house."

"Thanks," she smiled. When he wasn't looking, she peered over at his computer, annoyed to see that it was indeed a spreadsheet. "That's a pretty detailed inventory you've got there," she said pleasantly.

"Yeah," he agreed, giving a boyish grin. "It's going to fun adding all this stock to it though," he said gesturing to the supplies that were still haphazardly stacked around. "You guys did a good job."

"Yes, we did," she agreed. _Why couldn't he show Olivia how to make an inventory spreadsheet?_ She knew what some people could be like, especially when they were too successful and talented for their own good. Pete was a gifted surgeon, that much she knew…did he have the ego to go with it?

"When was the last time you menstruated?" he asked, not intrusively.

"Ahhh," she began, trying to remember. "God, maybe…this time last year?"

He just nodded, apparently not surprised. "You mentioned a miscarriage six years ago, in 2008. Any complications with that, or after?"

"No," she shook her head, biting the inside of her cheek. Despite her mixed feelings about the pregnancy at the time, its loss was still a painful memory six years later. "Everything went back to normal after."

"Given that you've otherwise had no problems in your medical history, I'm going to put your absent menstruation down to major stress and the weight loss you've experienced living outside. What did you normally weighed before the outbreak?"

"Typically anything between one thirty and one forty pounds."

"Alright. For now, keep chugging the protein shakes if you want, they're not going to hurt. Otherwise, I expect you'll gain some more weight just by eating decent meals…I'm sure Carol will take care of that. I'll ask Olivia to ration you some extra meat and other protein."

"Thanks."

"Once you start gaining weight and you settle in here, I'd expect that your menstruation will likely kick start again over the next few months. If it's any longer though, or if it's really troubling you, just come and speak to me and we can talk about some options. No chance you're pregnant?"

"No," she smiled in embarrassment. "But…on that note for future reference, contraception? I noticed it's not available at the Pantry."

"I'm glad you asked. Population control is strongly encouraged," he joked, getting up and gesturing her to follow him into the kitchen. Taking a key from the top of the refrigerator, he showed it to her before unlocking one of the kitchen cabinets. "All your basic contraceptives are available here. You don't have to ask for them, just come and take what you want. Lock it, put the key back, and leave me a note if anything's running low. The only reason it's locked is to stop the kids stealing condoms to make water balloons."

Laughing again, Carrie nodded gratefully. It was good to know she wasn't going to have to ask for contraceptives like a kid asking for their allowance.

"So, I think that's it," he shrugged with a smile. "Unless you have any other questions for me."

"No, I think I'm good. I know where to find you."

"Great," he smiled, shaking her hand pleasantly. "In that case, I'll send you my bill for today. You're entitled to the friends and family discount."

"Thanks for seeing me, Pete."

"No problem…to be honest, it's nice having a patient. The people here are too damn healthy."

Laughing again, Carrie farewelled him again as she closed the door behind herself. Taking in the pleasant view of the lake, she slowly made her way back around to the Pantry garage, enjoying the warmth of the sun on her face before she resigned herself to spending the rest of the day indoors again. She'd been working at these spreadsheets since yesterday morning, obliging Olivia's desire to have the entire inventory computerised, although it kind of annoyed her to know that Pete had been capable of doing this months ago.

It had taken her a while to wrap her head around the fact that she now had easy access to basic things like electricity, let alone the fact that she was using a computer for the first time in nearly two years. The whole notion had baffled her at first, and frankly she had started to regret accepting Olivia's request for help in this area. The task itself was simple, to transfer Olivia's hand written inventory onto a spreadsheet, and while her records were impeccable and easy to interpret, it had taken Carrie a while to get back into the swing of it. After an hour or so she had it figured out though, all the variables coming together in her mind and allowing her to get a proper start. As she began to work, she felt a familiar sense of peace that came with the menial task of entering data onto a spreadsheet, enjoying the satisfaction of properly categorising and arranging the various items the Pantry contained.

Olivia had attempted to do this many times, but claimed she could never quite get it how she wanted it, and she'd frequently give up and delete her work, only to start all over again a few weeks later. That said, her hand written records of the inventory were sheer perfection. This being Olivia's only task, she knew exactly what was in the pantry and how long they could expect it to last…it was no wonder that the sudden influx of supplies had sent her into a melt down. None of it was completely organised yet, rather it was enormous piles of stuff that was simply dumped onto the road outside the garages for them to sort through. While the others worked through that, hoping to at least have a general idea of how much they had before the welcome back party that evening, Carrie focused her attention on the spreadsheets.

The filing cabinet held eighteen months worth of personal and household notes, Olivia's way of keeping track of which person had taken what supplies, of which household used the most and which used the least…as good as her files were, the spreadsheet would give a better overall picture. Trying not to grin, for she suspected not many others would share her love of data, Carrie thought longingly of the nice neat graphs and charts she would be able to make…she missed the days of trawling through reports and interpreting data, finding meaning in all of it and applying that to her department's direction.

There weren't as many people working on the supplies today, both due to the fuss having died down a little and the significant progress that had made over the weekend. While she longed for the opportunity to be outside enjoying the warmth of the sun, she was partly glad that her task kept her inside and away from most of the Alexandrians. She liked them of course, everyone had been very welcoming to her, but she still felt like an animal at the zoo. No matter where she went she could feel eyes following her, people gawking at the stranger from the outside.

Dwelling on this, Carrie remembered what Rick and the others had repeatedly told her during the supply run, that the Alexandrians were wilfully naive, that they were oblivious to the world outside. She recognised this in them…their eyes said it all. There was little or no hint of the trauma that had befallen so many of them outside the walls. But on this note, she thought perhaps Rick's group didn't give them enough credit. Surely these people were at least aware of what was out there…weren't they? Despite her struggle to settle in, which she knew would only take time, Carrie reminded herself that all she had to do was find common ground with these people. She was dreading the party that night, knowing she'd need more than a glass of wine to get through it, but she tried to see it as an opportunity. Having made the acquaintance of most people, tonight would simply be about making small talk and getting to know one another.

All she needed to do was find common ground.

"I'm back," she told Olivia, admiring the progress she and the others had made. "Does anyone want a hot drink?"

Olivia looked around at her in surprise, her pen poised on the clipboard. "You're back," she frowned, repeating what Carrie had just said.

"Yeah…I'm finished with Pete, and Jessie's not expecting me until two o'clock."

"Oh." Olivia shrugged after a moment. "Okay. I think we're all good for drinks, we just got some."

Secretly glad that no one else wanted one, she turned to head back inside to keep working on the inventory, seeing Noah as she went. He was coming up the street with a rifle over his shoulder, and he waved at her to wait for him. As much as she had been worried about meeting the Alexandrians, she'd been more worried about getting the approval of the rest of Rick's group, hoping that they liked her, and that she liked them. Now on her third day there, it seemed that the only one holding her at arm's length was Carol.

"Hey," Noah greeted her. "Spencer took over watch for me, I'm just handing in my gun. How much longer will you be?"

Carrie raised her eyebrows, surprised by his query. "Umm, probably a while I think."

"Oh," Noah, frowned, equally surprised by her answer as she was by his question. "Okay. Don't work too hard."

"I'll try not to."

Letting him go on ahead of her to return his gun, Carrie wondered why everyone seemed so concerned with her plans for the afternoon. Still thinking of all the records she wanted to get completed and the charts and graphs she would be rewarded with at the end, she went inside the townhouse and headed for the kitchen, knowing she was welcome to help herself to anything in there. Setting the kettle to boil, she wandered around the living room and looked through the rear windows, enjoying the view of the lake and the infirmary.

She'd quickly found that it was very peaceful here in Alexandria, that despite the world outside, inside the walls there was respite, the opportunity to relax and learn how to live again. Though this concept was new to her, the whole notion of learning to live still something she was wrapping her head around, she felt completely content here. She had spent the last three days actively not thinking about her time outside, particularly the four months she had spent on her own, but today she did. Thinking about those bad times allowed her to appreciate what she had now, to be grateful for where she was and what she had.

Since their return to Alexandria, things have been odd with Rick, and she couldn't help but feel like he was sending her mixed signals. In general he'd been the same as he always was around her, still maintaining the facade that they were nothing other than friends, and now housemates. But when they'd been awake in the middle of the night, he'd kissed her in the dark hallway, his version of welcoming her to Alexandria. Then there was what had happened on Saturday afternoon, the way he had suddenly come on to her in the laundry room, kissing her as though he needed her to breathe. It had been a most welcome turn of events, something that had relieved her of the stress she'd been feeling that entire day. If Carol hadn't been home, Carrie wondered how far they would have gone, if they'd have simply dropped their pants for a quickie right there in the laundry room. Certainly Carrie's body had been longing for it, even though her growing worries about Carol put a stop to it all. On second thought, she knew that wouldn't have happened…not with most of Rick's family only a closed door away.

But something had changed since that moment on Saturday afternoon, and she couldn't help but wonder if she'd done something wrong. While she didn't need to be assured of his attraction to her twenty four seven, the only times she had seen Rick yesterday she had been on the receiving end of his glares. First of all when he saw her and Sasha leaving the walls to take a walk, then when he came to pick up Carl from the pantry, and then again when she had come home. Thinking on that, she knew he had been in an argument of some kind immediately prior to her arrival, so perhaps it was a little arrogant to think that the glare she received following that was really meant for her. Nevertheless, she'd arrived home and caught the tail end of what sounded like a fiery argument, hearing the sound of a slammed door only moments before Rick came bursting across the front porch…that was when she'd received his furious expression. When he had stalked off and Carrie went inside, it didn't take her long to gauge who Rick had been arguing with. Michonne and Carl looked remarkably awkward in their own home, while the too cheerful smile from Carol indicated she had been the other arguing party.

This didn't serve to make Carrie feel any better about Rick's mixed signals. She could smell Carol's bullshit a mile away, but she wasn't yet in a position to call her on it. If Carol wanted to put up a facade in front of Carrie, the same facade she seemed to give the Alexandrians, then that was her prerogative. While Rick's nod of approval seemed to be enough for everyone else, it was clear that Carol didn't yet trust Carrie. She wondered if Carol knew what happened between her and Rick on the supply run, if perhaps that was partly the cause of her mistrust…she certainly seemed perceptive enough to notice that.

Worried she was going to give herself a headache with all of this worry, Carrie tried to put it out of her head. She had so many other things to worry about that day, she didn't have time to worry about Carol too. Jessie would be cutting her hair for her today…following that was an afternoon spent getting ready for the party with Rosita, Maggie and Tara. There would be time on another day for her to worry about Carol, to figure out how she could earn the woman's trust, for clearly it was important. Behind her nice sweaters and pleasant smiles, Carrie could tell that she had great influence over the group's trajectory, and Rick himself.

Carol truly was playing a role, ensuring that the Alexandrians underestimated her.

"Carrie, are you up here?"

"Yeah, I'm in the kitchen," she called back, recognising Glenn's voice. Turning away from the window, she headed back to the kitchen just as the kettle was reaching a boil. "You want a hot drink?"

"No," Glenn answered, coming up the stairs and entering the living room. Seeing she was about to pour the kettle, he hastily stopped her. "Don't do that."

"Why?"

He looked at her awkwardly. "What are you doing?"

"What do you mean?" she asked, putting the kettle back in the cradle. "I'm working."

"No, Carrie…what are you doing?" he asked, sighing in exasperation. "Noah said you're not coming."

He seemed to be shaking his head at her, making her feel as though she'd missed something important. "I don't understand…"

"We're waiting for you, Dumb Ass."

"Sorry?"

"Judith, presents, party…cake," he explained, emphasising the last part. "Michonne said she told you last night, be home by one o'clock."

Realisation dawned on her. "Isn't that more of a family thing?" she questioned, realising he was referring to Judith's birthday party.

Glenn raised an eyebrow at her. "Yeah."

"Well, I…"

"What makes you think you're not family?" he challenged. When she didn't immediately answer, he impatiently gestured to the stairs. "Seriously, we're waiting for you. Rick is waiting for you."

"Oh, okay," she nodded, feeling a little lost. She fluttered around for a moment, putting the teabag back in the canister and returning the mug to the cupboard.

"Did I mention cake?" he asked, hustling her. "Because there's cake, and a one year old that hasn't eaten lunch."

"Alright," she laughed, hastily following him downstairs. She quickly farewelled Olivia, now understanding why she was surprised that she was staying…had everyone but her expected her to be at the party? As she and Glenn set off towards home, she voiced something that bothered her. "Glenn, are you sure Rick wants me there? I don't want to make things weird for him."

"Why, because of the supply run?" he asked, setting all jokes aside.

"Yeah," she nodded. "I mean I get that you all consider me family, but with what we…got up to, I don't want to make it weird for him."

"Because of Lori?"

"Yes."

Glenn just shrugged. "All you need to know is that Rick said we have to wait for you. Okay? He wants you there…we all do."

"Alright," she accepted this. "Thanks."

"That's okay…oh, and by the way. When it comes to cake strategy, don't think that getting the corner piece for the extra frosting is a good move."

"Why's that?"

"I saw Rick putting it together. Go for the middle bit of the long piece. The whole top is a mess glued together with frosting and squashed into shape, and the bottom? I'm pretty sure the bottom part of the cake is a little burnt. He's done a good job overall…pancakes this morning, and now a birthday cake? He only set the fire alarm off once."

Carrie laughed, amused by Glenn's recount. She knew Rick had intended to make Judith's first birthday cake himself, and that Carol had been enlisted to help…surely he could handle making a cake out of a box?

Daryl was perched at his usual spot on the front porch railing, but upon their arrival he butted out his cigarette and called out to everyone inside, "They're here." He looked at her, giving a rare, genuine smile. "It's 'bout time, Blondie. Ass Kicker's hungry, she's about to pitch a fit."

"Sorry," she apologised sheepishly.

Coming inside, Carrie was amazed by the extent of the celebration. The ground floor was crowded with the entire group who had been awaiting her arrival, the living and dining room generously decorated with balloons, streamers and a pink banner that looked hand painted. The dining room table was piled high with more birthday presents than had been there that morning, and the atmosphere was one of great celebration, everyone cheerful and excited for what this day meant. Even Daryl was smiling, and that alone was a major.

"Someone hit the lights?" Rick asked.

Carrying Judith on his hip, he ushered Carl over to the end of the dining room table where there were two chairs waiting. Looking around, he caught Carrie's eye and smiled at her, indicating that he had indeed been waiting for her to get there. Returning his smile, she was pleasantly surprised to see him dressed so nicely, for once wearing a shirt that was actually clean. Carl was much the same, having even brushed his hair properly. While Abraham turned out the lights, they sat down at the end of the table, Rick standing Judith up in his lap. She too was quite dressed up, her pretty yellow dress complemented by the ribbon someone had managed to tie into her fine hair. Though she looked a little confused by it all, she was clearly thrilled by all the fuss, even more so when she saw what was coming for her.

It was what Carrie imagined a typical family party to be, everyone clamouring around the table to get a good look at the cake that Carol was bringing over before they broke into a chorus of Happy Birthday. Lit by a single candle, the white cake was nicely decorated on a silver board, Judith's name written in pink icing at the bottom. Brightly coloured flowers from the garden adorned it too, and Carrie suspected the final touches were more Carol's efforts than Rick's. She was amused to note that the shape of the number one was a little lopsided too…in her eyes it was exactly what a birthday cake should be.

Physically restraining Judith from reaching out and touching the candle, Rick let Carl blow it out for her, the three of them smiling for the obligatory photos that Aaron took. When the lights came back on and the blinds were opened, they wasted no time in getting to the most important part, Carol cutting up the cake and dividing it onto enough plates to go around. Giving her the first piece, everyone watched with bated breath as Judith peered at it with great scrutiny. Hungry enough to try the strange food presented to her, Judith swiped her fingers through the icing and brought them to her mouth. She seemed pleasantly surprised, and generously offered her hand to Rick next, smiling when he sucked her fingers clean for her.

"See?" he said to Carl, gloating. "I told you she'd like the lemon."

The afternoon continued on like that, everyone smiling and laughing as Judith ploughed through her first piece of cake, greatly approving of the banana cake and lemon cream cheese icing. The rest of the cake was passed around, and while Glenn strategically passed the corner piece to Tara, pretending to be generous, Carrie simply took what she got. Despite Glenn's warnings to her, it wasn't so bad, despite the slightly burnt outside.

Accepting the party hat Eugene forced on her head, Carrie kept an eye on the time so that she wasn't late for Jessie, but happily lingered and watched Judith opening her presents. The majority of them had to be opened by Carl or Rick, Judith more interested in the way the paper scrunched up or looking around for more cake, but she seemed sufficiently delighted by the toys and books that were now hers to play with. Just like everyone else, Carrie watched the presents being opened and smiled for photographs, still feeling surprised when they insisted she be in them.

As the party progressed, Judith wide eyed and entranced by the wrapping paper more than her toys, Carrie was the only one not focusing her attention on her. Instead she observed Rick, watching the way he sat on the floor and so happily played with Judith, the way he joked around with Carl and threw scrunched up wrapping paper at him. Thinking back to the supply run, she recalled every time she had doubted him, every time she felt a flicker of mistrust or she'd questioned his judgement. Her understanding of him simply was not complete…it kept growing and developing, and now that she was there with his family, she finally felt like she understood his motives.

Their last night at the prison, the night they'd sat outside on the bleachers talking and drinking, Rick had opened up to her, perhaps for the first time in a while. He'd explained that for him, killing people had become a normal part of his life, despite his attempts to avoid it. He had accepted that there were now two polar sides of himself, and that they were both necessary for his survival, for his family's survival. Today, she understood why he could turn from the man he was right now into a ruthless kill, into someone who would stop at nothing to survive. He did that so that he could one day return to the person he was now.

"Everything alright?" Michonne asked quietly, nudging Carrie's side.

Under the pretence of helping to clean up, the two of them stood side by side in the kitchen swiping the remaining icing off the now empty cake board. Slipping her finger into her mouth and sucking the cream cheese frosting off, Carrie smiled as she thought about Michonne's question, knowing the answer automatically. She looked back at Rick as she answered, smiling at the way he was trying to convince Judith to look at a yellow stuffed duck.

"Yeah…everything's perfect."

* * *

A/N - Thanks for the many great reviews, they're such a pleasure to read! This story is definitely a change of pace from the previous, and I'll be honest, there won't be major 'action' for a few chapters. There will however, be a great deal of characters developing as individuals, and developing new and scary relationships with a wide array of people. These chapters are the set up chapters, and I know that having them posted one a week can be a bit arduous after a while. Keep hanging in there like I know you will, because the pay off is going to be great! (Of course I say that, I'm the writer, but God am I having fun with the plots AngieB and I have come up with!)

Response to GrimesReader: Thank you, I try hard to not make Carrie a self-insert, because that drives me crazy with OCs. I'm glad that so many readers appreciate that she's a complex and flawed character - perfection is boring.

You're right, the Us versus Them mindset is very strong in this story, and it's going to play out like that for some time - my intention is to use that as a parallel between Rick and Carrie, because you'll see her begin to settle in to the people faster than he does. She's a people person by nature, and though Rick used to be, that's no longer the case for him.

Rick and Carol have a great relationship, especially on the show. They can disagree (strongly disagree too), and still trust and respect each other. Carol is a hurdle for Carrie, but not one that will cause too many problems - it will pay off in the end, I promise.

Hmmm there are a few directions a writer can take Rick in for a 'break down', and I have one in mind - it's just a matter of how well it develops throughout the story. I definitely love creating a juxtaposition between how someone acts on the outside and how they feel on the inside, so there could be a little 'two-face' people running around at some stage. I'll see where the plot takes me.

Pete is definitely a ticking time bomb, although you'll need to hang in there to see his fuse grow shorter. His story line comes into play following the development of a few others - everything will mesh together, and each sub plot will hopefully domino into major plots later in the story. I think you and all the readers will enjoy it.

I too love taking canon events and exploring them in greater depth. A major canon event we have coming up soon is Deanna's welcome party, and although it was a little stressful to write, it was fun. I love taking the canon events and putting my own ideas and plots to it (with MAJOR help and inspiration from Angie B). You'll catch many canon events that are altered throughout this story, and I think readers will enjoy.

Thank you for your quite extensive review, it was a pleasure to read!


	8. Chapter 8

The birthday celebrations wound down fairly quickly, for within half an hour it seemed Judith buckled under the weight of the excitement and attention she was receiving. Completely overwhelmed, she abandoned the toy she had been playing with and crawled straight over to Carol who was closest, clumsily standing up and reaching for her urgently. Content in Carol's arms, Judith clung to her brown security blanket and sucked her thumb, refusing all of Rick's attempts to gain her interest in the stuffed yellow duck he wanted her to take. It was part of a longer term attempt to get her to give up her security blanket in favour of something else, Carrie having heard that the scrap of brown material was actually remnants from a shirt Rick wore on the roads…she didn't need an imagination to know what that shirt had been covered in, and why he disliked Judith's attachment to it.

Soon enough it was clear that Judith needed something other than a cuddle, and it was with disappointment that the house full of people farewelled her as Carol took her upstairs for an early nap. With the party concluded and the cake no more, the clean up quickly began, and although they left the banner and balloons, they all pitched in to tidy up everything else. Soon after the rest of the afternoon got into full swing, talk of the party that evening and food they needed to cook beginning to dominate conversation. Ever organised, Carol was bustling around the kitchen mixing and array of ingredients that Carrie would have never imagined would go together, somehow also managing to get a sewing machine and ironing board set up in the dining room.

Not wanting to interfere, Carrie lingered at home and helped with the clean up only until she knew Jessie would be expecting her, and it was then that she made her excuses and began to leave. However as she headed out onto the front porch, she knew that she was going to be a little late for her hair cut…there was absolutely no way she was missing the commotion that was going on out here. Rick, Daryl, Abraham, Eugene, Glenn, Noah and Carl were all crowded onto the front porch, an array of Cozy Coupe parts and pieces scattered around as they debated over what to do next. They appeared to be in the midst of an argument, Eugene and Glenn debating over the instructions while Rick and Daryl turned over what they had already assembled, looking at it from a different angle.

"How many men does it take to assemble a Cozy Coupe?" she joked to Michonne who had followed her out.

"Just shove it in!" Abraham said loudly.

"I'm telling you, it doesn't fit!" Rick said, his jaw clenched in frustration. "This isn't the first Cozy Coupe I've assembled."

"Yeah, but Dad," Carl started, perched up on the porch railing. "The one you made for me broke."

Rick wearily rubbed the bridge of his nose, tossing aside a piece of yellow plastic. "That's because you rode it down the driveway when I told you not to."

"And unless you're getting me a beer, you stay outta this," Daryl added before turning to Rick. "You said this would take twenty minutes," he muttered grumpily.

"It would have until this lot got involved," Rick groaned, gesturing to the rest them.

Snatching the instructions out of Glenn's hands, Noah stepped forward. "Have you connected the front pillars to the roof?"

"Yes!"

"Then connect the rear pillars."

"I'm telling you, Noah, you gave me the wrong pillars for the front."

"They're all the same."

Grinning, Michonne nudged Carrie and gestured to Rick. "Watch his forehead…sometimes there's a vein that pops."

"They're not the same," Rick said through gritted teeth, holding out his hand while Daryl detached the front pillars. "Give me the other ones."

Muttering under his breath, Rick glared at them all in turn as he and Daryl switched things around and did it the way they wanted. A smug look crossed Rick's face when it seemed to go according to plan.

"You're doing it backwards," Eugene intervened. "You're meant to attach the front pillars, then the roof, then the rear."

"What are yah, a rocket scientist?" Daryl grunted. "We're doing it our way."

"Well at the very least, you should detach the rear pillars, and-"

"I'll detach something," Rick growled, slamming his palm against the roof piece to force it in place. "But you won't like."

Noah shook his head. "It's not going to fit."

"I'll make it fit."

"I'm obliged to warn you of the impending 'I told you so' when breakage occurs thanks to your…" Eugene trailed off sheepishly, watching as Rick triumphantly secured the roof and all four pillars to the base.

Looking around at each of them, he raised his hands in the air and dared them to continue. "I'm sorry, what was that?" Looking rather smug, he shook his head at them all. "Nothing to say?"

"You completed the instructions out of order. If this is how you're going to live your life, you might as well wipe your ass before you disgrace the toilet bowl," Eugene remarked, clinging to his argument. "Not only have you jinxed this sweet ride, you're still wrong."

As Rick sighed in exasperation and looked for the next piece, Daryl got to his feet and whipped out his cigarettes. "You people are gonna be the reason I stop gettin' up in the mornings."

Carrie chuckled at them, giving Michonne a wry look of amusement. "On that note, I'm going to Jessie's…have fun with them."

She caught Rick's eye as she left, amused by his defeated expression. What had started out as maybe a twenty minute job had now been infinitely complicated by the extra helping hands, and she didn't envy him the task of assembling Judith's largest birthday present.

Walking with an extra spring in her step, largely due to the joyous celebration of Judith's first birthday, Carrie headed up the road to Jessie's house. Seeing a few other people around, Alexandrian's who she knew by sight and acquaintance, she was exceptionally glad that her journey that day was so brief. Though the weather was nice and the sunshine warm, it was a relief when she crossed Jessie's front porch and knocked on the door.

"Hey, good to see you," Jessie greeted her with a hug, much to Carrie's surprise. "How's the party going?"

"It was great," she smiled, the warm greeting reaffirming her belief that she liked Jessie. "She had fun."

"I bet she spent more time with the paper than the presents. Am I right?"

"Yeah. How did you know?"

"It's a baby thing. When my boys were young, they didn't really care about the presents Santa brought them, they liked the box instead. Would you like a drink?"

"No, thank you," she said, taking a seat at the chair in the kitchen that Jessie directed her to.

"I've been listening to the argument going on over there. What are they building?"

"A Cozy Coupe. I think Rick and Daryl had it handled until the others tried to help."

"Typical men," she shook her head, laying a towel around Carrie's shoulders and then taking her hair out of the pony tail. Trailing her fingers through it, she peered at the top of her scalp. "Ouch, what happened there?"

"Bumped my head," she answered, remembering vividly. After being separated from Nicholas while they were scavenging on the supply run, she'd run as far as she could before needing to rest, and she'd sought refuge underneath a car. It had been a good idea until she became disoriented and forgot where she was…having heard a passing car she had tried to leap to her feet only to hit her head on the underside of the car. The resultant headache and bleeding had nearly brought her afoul of Walkers as the rest of her journey on foot continued.

Cringing, Jessie started assessing her hair, rubbing it between her fingers and then pulling it out and letting it fall. "Alright, I'll be careful of that," she said as she began running a comb through it. "Your hair is very long…some sections are past your shoulder blades. What type of cut are we going for today? Just a trim and tidy? I can put some layers in if you like, try to work with this shorter section here…"

"Actually, I was thinking a full cut…short."

As she expected it might, apprehension crossed Jessie's face. "That's a major change."

"I know."

Looking at her in the mirror opposite, Jessie wasn't convinced. "How short?" she enquired, finding the section that was significantly shorter than the rest. "I know you probably don't like this bit here, but I can blend it in to the rest and still keep it long overall."

Understanding her apprehension in cutting off so much, Carrie pushed on. Raising her hands, she pinched her hair at the length she wanted it, an inch off her shoulders. "I normally keep it to this length here. Short, but just long enough to tie back in a pony tail. Symmetrical cut, lightly feathered, but not layered."

A smile crossed Jessie's face at this, realising Carrie knew exactly what she was talking about. "Bangs?"

"On the side, please."

"Part?"

"On the left here," she said, indicating.

Jessie was positively beaming now, and she sighed gratefully. "I love when my clients know exactly what they want…thank you."

"No, thank you," she grinned, feeling excited. "I've always had short hair, I hate how long it is now."

"Too high maintenance?" Jessie enquired, beginning to spray it with some water, continuing when Carrie nodded. "What happened to this section here?"

Carrie hesitated before answering, wondering how truthful she should be. She could tell Jessie the truth, that the Walker guts she smeared through her hair became so dried and matted that no amount of washing would release the clump, but that might not be so well received.

"It got really knotted up, so I had to cut it with my knife. I would have done the whole lot, but I lost my knife after that."

"That's a good thing. For your hair that is," she remarked, looking at the shorter section. "Your hair didn't like it one bit."

There was a short pause, and as she promised, Jessie was indeed careful about the cut on her scalp. Combing the wet locks, she expertly divided the hair and sectioned it with some clips, the expression on her face indicating that she was entering her happy place.

"So," Jessie began, taking the scissors out of her mouth. "How are you settling in?"

"Ahhh…okay, I guess," she answered, feeling as though she could be honest about this. "It's still…kind of strange."

"I can't even imagine," Jessie muttered sympathetically. "Are you happy over there with them? I mean, you know them at least."

"Yeah, I am."

"Michonne is nice," Jessie smiled. "I really like her."

Carrie chuckled at this. "Yeah, Michonne's great. They all are." As Jessie started cutting, Carrie felt as though a weight was being lifted off her shoulders to see the long blonde hair falling away to the kitchen floor.

"I figure the others have given you the low down of how this place works, everyone's roles, etcetera?"

"Yeah."

"Well, in that case, let me give you the low down on the people here…the main thing you need to know, is that this place has a serious case of Small Town Syndrome."

Carrie groaned in amusement. "That's the worst."

"Tell me about it. Now I consider myself bound by stylist and client confidentiality," she joked. "But as for everyone else? Be careful who you share your business with…especially Shelley and Barbara. They're nice, you might like them, but don't trust them with your secrets if you want them to remain secret."

"They're gossip rats?"

Jessie nodded solemnly. "Yeah. I kind of get it, there's practically nothing to do except sit around, drink wine and talk…so they tend to do a lot of that."

"Sounds boring," Carrie remarked, glad that she at least would have plenty of tasks to occupy herself.

"Why do you think I'm so glad to cut your hair? I try to keep as busy as possible…I help with the school and the Pantry too. Otherwise I've usually got a painting or sculpture in the works. I've done a painting for Judith's birthday. I'm just waiting before I take it over, she's usually napping right about now. Anyway…have you met Rosemary yet? She comes on a bit strong I think, but if you like strawberries, tolerate it. Her front garden is just a massive strawberry patch."

"Good to know."

"If you're into reading, talk to Shelly, because she runs the book club, and she runs one for the kids too. I hear you signed up to be a look out for the construction crew, right? You'll like Francine and Holly, they're just easy to get on with. There's no effort required to hang out with them, you know what I mean?"

The next twenty minutes continued in this fashion, Carrie and Jessie talking and getting to know one another with ease. It helped that they had a buffer of some kind, the task of her hair cut allowing them to lapse in and out of comfortable silence while Jessie occasionally concentrated on a section, her eyes narrowed as she assessed the hair. Having been a little nervous about the obligatory small talk, Carrie was relieved to find Jessie rather easy to talk to, though she was happier listening. At Carrie's request, Jessie talked at length, filling her in on the different people in between showing her the progress on her hair.

"You know, I like your group," Jessie complemented.

Carrie frowned, glancing up at her as she cut her fringe. "Umm…thanks?"

Jessie laughed, expertly twirling the scissors and comb around as she let the fringe fall into place. "What I mean, is that you were all out there together, you all met under shitty circumstances, some of you on the worst days of your lives…and then you're a family."

Nodding, Carrie understood what she meant. "Yeah," she nodded. It was still strange to realise that Rick's group considered her a part of their family…that they had been waiting for her before starting Judith's birthday party.

"It's kind of like that with the people here," Jessie continued, tilting her head as she cut a little more of the fringe, combing sections in different ways. "But we don't have the same kind of bond that you guys seem to…I'm kind of jealous," she concluded. "Like I said before, friendships here are kind of hard."

"They're hard out there too," Carrie explained, thinking of her last group. "But in a different way. Sometimes your friends are just the people you happen to be with. You're right about Rick and his group though…they're a family."

"Well, I like them. Especially Judith. Rick is so lucky to have her, especially in this world. I can't wait until her hair gets a bit longer and we start styling it."

"Yeah she's cute. She's also really…crafty."

Jessie burst out laughing, putting her tools aside and once again trailing her fingers through Carrie's hair. "Did she manage to get peanut butter out of you?"

"Yes!" she exclaimed, remembering her first morning in Alexandria. "Does she do that to you too?"

"Oh yeah, she's really good at getting what she wants. She starts with this little smile, and then if she doesn't get her way her lower lip starts to tremble. If she's really making an effort, she'll actually squeeze out a tear."

Carrie smiled, laughing at her own expense. "I think she sees me as an easy target. At least she did the other day."

"Are you an easy target?" she asked, continuing when Carrie nodded. "Well it's not your fault. Babies can smell fear, and they'll exploit it. Now…tell me how that looks."

Holding up a mirror for her, Jessie waited apprehensively for Carrie to assess the haircut. Having seen its length half way though, she wasn't too shocked by the tremendous change, but now that it was complete she felt momentarily mesmerised. After so long of looking herself in the mirror and only half recognising the face, today she could see herself…she recognised the woman looking back at her, the notion of finding her old self bringing unexpected reassurance. It was more relieving then she expected.

"It's perfect, thank you," she said sincerely, beginning to smile. Reaching up she trailed her fingers through her hair, feeling for herself how short it was. Just as she had hoped, her hair felt smooth and soft now, benefiting greatly from the long awaited cut with something other than a dull hunting knife. "I look like me again."

Jessie seemed pleased with this. "That's what we were going for, right?"

"Yes," she agreed. As soon as Jessie had removed the towel, she reached up properly and bundled her hair into her hands, pulling it back and assessing how well it went into a pony tail. "It's perfect," she said for a second time. "Thank you."

"You're so welcome," Jessie smiled, accepting her hug of gratitude. "Now, are you washing your hair before tonight? Because if not, I was thinking I might blow dry it for you…maybe put a little sea salt spray in there and get it looking fabulous for the party."

Though her first reaction was the politely refuse, not wanting to put Jessie out any more, Carrie hesitated when she saw the hopefulness in Jessie's eyes. "That would be great. Thank you."

"Awesome," Jessie agreed. "Hang there, I'll be right back."

Letting Jessie disappear upstairs for a few moments, Carrie finished cleaning up the hair as best she could, throwing it into the trash before taking another look in the mirror. Though she wasn't vain, she couldn't help but admire her cut, relishing in the excitement it brought her. It wasn't so difficult to remember who she once was, and even though she knew how lucky she was to still be alive, she couldn't help but miss her old life…could anyone?

"Here," Jessie said when she left a short while later, her hair blow dried and loosely styled for the party. "I got these from the Pantry for you. There's a hair dryer, some product, a barrel brush, hair ties, pins, you name it. It's my welcome gift to you."

Taking the bulging plastic bag, Carrie tried not to grin excessively. "Thank you Jessie," she said, hugging her sincerely as they walked to the door. "I really appreciate this."

"You're welcome. Come over any time and I'll paint your nails. I'm experimenting with nail art," she smiled, showing her the colourful patterns on her own fingernails. "Like I said, there's not much else to do around here."

Resisting the urge to thank Jessie again, Carrie just smiled and went on her way, knowing she had other people who were waiting for her by now. Departing Jessie's house, Carrie grinned to herself as she stepped back out into the sunshine and breathed a massive sigh of relief, remembering what it felt like to recognise her own reflection. It was empowering to feel like her old self again, even if it was only in appearance. Revelling in the feeling, she took her bag of hair supplies and headed next door to the second house where she expected everyone to be waiting. She was surprised to find only Maggie on the front porch, and even more surprised to see her peering over at the first house rather nervously. Joining her, Carrie followed her gaze and frowned in surprise.

"What are they doing?"

Rosita was kneeling on Tara's shoulders, reaching into the kitchen window of the first house. Whispering frantically, she clung to a drain pipe as Tara suddenly ducked down.

"They're doing God's work," Maggie answered, her smile turning overly sweet a moment later. She waved pleasantly as Carol suddenly appeared in the kitchen window, looking perplexed. "They're stealing cookies."

"Cookies?"

"Carol made some for the party. They're pretty damn great," Maggie sighed, her shoulders slumping in relief when Carol left the window. "Okay, you're good," she whispered loudly.

Standing upright again, Tara staggered a little as she held onto Rosita's legs, crab walking back to the window.

"More to the right!" Rosita hissed. "That's the sink!"

Laughing, Carrie looked over at the first house's front porch, amused to see that the Cozy Coupe's assembly seemed to have been completed. All that was left was a mess of packaging. "She's protective of these cookies?"

"Yes," Maggie nodded, watching as Rosita slowly reached through the window, Tara pushing her up a little more. "Daryl tried to get one for me, but she won't even let him."

"What's the go with them?" Carrie enquired, not caring that she was being nosy. "Is there anything there?"

"Between Carol and Daryl? No, not in that way."

"They seem close, that's all." Closer than Carrie had expected, anyway.

Maggie just shrugged. "Sometimes people just find something in each other." Looking at Carrie, she smiled tentatively and went to speak, but she was cut off by a loud squeal from Rosita.

"Shit, it's hot!" she shouted, pulling her hand back. Losing her balance, she and Tara toppled over and landed in the grass.

"Did you get one?" Tara said franticly, looking around on the ground. "Did you get one?"

"Yes," she declared triumphantly, gingerly picking up the cookie and brushing it off. "Maggie, you don't mind a little dirt, do you?"

"Dirt I can handle," she grinned, giving Carol an innocent smile when she appeared in the kitchen window, shaking her head at them.

Opening the window properly, she looked down at Rosita and Tara who were trying to make their laughter not so obvious. "It's bad enough I have to fend off Eugene, now you lot too?"

"Sorry," they smirked, heading back towards the second house and breaking the cookie into four.

"Come on," Maggie smiled in exasperation, ushering Carrie down the front steps. "Let's find you something to wear tonight. I like your hair cut, by the way. It's very-"

"Refreshing," Tara noted, handing out pieces of cookie. "It's looks great."

"I want the chocolate chips," Maggie said quickly. "Please…"

"Calm down, here…and they're raisins."

Maggie moaned. "Raisins?"

"Both plates looked the same. Steal your own cookies or stop complaining. Carrie, what was Jessie like? Does she know what's she's doing?"

"Sure, unless I look hideous," she shrugged, enjoying her first bite of the cookie.

"I want a pixie cut," Rosita sighed, tugging at her long pony tail in annoyance. "But Eugene said I'd look like Justin Bieber."

"Don't take that too hard," Tara added. "He still said he'd do you."

"Eugene would do anything with a pulse if it consented."

Choking on her cookie, Carrie burst out laughing, unable to hold it back a moment longer. Her eyes watered as Rosita jovially slapped her on the back, the others joining in too. Wiping at her eyes, Carrie cleared her throat. "You guys are too much, seriously."

"I told you they were fun," Rosita reminded her.

"You wanna see fun? Wait until Noah has a couple of beers and tries to breakdance."

"Shush," Maggie told them, the group turning down towards the pantry garages. "Don't give away everything."

"Is Michonne meeting us here?" Carrie enquired, saying hello to Olivia as they went upstairs. "Or Sasha?"

"Sasha's back on watch, and Michonne's babysitting Judith while Rick and Carl get their hair cut soon."

"Kudos to Jessie if she actually manages to cut more than a few strands on Carl's head."

"Kudos to Jessie if she gets Daryl in her chair."

"Is he a reluctant client?" Carrie enquired, following them up the stairs and into the living room. Her question aroused a chorus of laughter from the three women. Knowing what they needed, they led Carrie straight to one rack in particular.

"Daryl won't get his hair cut," Maggie muttered, appearing to show some sympathy for him.

"Why not?"

"He just won't. Oh, and by the way? Brace yourself to overhear a loud and uncomfortable argument this afternoon. Carol seems to think she can make Daryl come to the party."

Carrie nodded. "I figured he wasn't the party type."

"No, he's not," Maggie agreed, turning her attention from the racks of clothing to Carrie. "So what look are we going for? A mini skirt and tube top, or something a little classier?"

Chuckling, Carrie's heart leapt when she saw the dress Rosita was holding up. "Not a gold mini dress, that's for sure."

"But it sparkles…"

"Even more reason."

Putting the dress back, Rosita shrugged. "I don't care what the dress code is, I'm wearing my black stilettos. I actually reach Abraham's shoulder in those. What are you wearing, Mags?"

"I'll just wear that green dress again."

"Oh," Tara began, awkwardly poking her head through the racks to see Maggie. "You're not wearing that…I am."

"Did you call shot gun?"

"She did, I heard her," Rosita said. Whipping out another dress, she held it out to Carrie. "Yay or nay?"

"Nay," she answered, not liking the look of the plunging neckline. While two years ago she would have jumped at it, these days she wasn't so certain. "I don't really want to draw attention to myself."

Rosita snorted. "Good luck with that."

"You don't want to turn a few heads?" Tara called out.

"She's already turned one head," Rosita said cheekily, winking at Carrie.

Tara's head shot back through the rack again. "Who? Whose head?"

"Yeah," Maggie said in curiosity. "Whose?

"No one's," Carrie replied sharply, glaring at Rosita.

Tara grinned. "I heard that Carter is trying to man up and ask you out."

"He's cute," said Rosita. "In a terrified Chihuahua kind of way."

"Leave Carter alone, he's just shy," Maggie scolded them, rifling through a different rack. Whipping something out, she held it up for Carrie. "What about a skirt and blouse? Is that your style?"

"Yes," Carrie nodded in relief, heading over and looking at the skirt. "I like this one."

"Okay, try it on."

Looking around to ensure it was only them around, Carrie slipped out of her shorts and tried the skirt on, disappointed to find that it was too large. Letting Maggie and Tara scrutinise its suitability for last minute tailoring, Carrie assessed a variety of blouses Rosita started showing her, giving approval to some that were set aside to try on.

"Let's try a different one," Maggie shook her head. "With the lining inside this skirt I'd need more than an hour to even try making it smaller."

"You can't just sew it down the sides?" Tara frowned.

"No, I'd have to completely pull it apart. You see the lining?" she explained, starting to look for something else. "Besides, I need to fix the hem on the green dress. Carrie, what size is that skirt?…Okay, try this one."

"No, no," Rosita protested, gesturing to the array of colourful blouses she had to try on. "She can't wear a green skirt and a coloured blouse, this isn't a circus."

As Tara rolled her eyes and looked for a plain coloured skirt, Maggie gave Carrie a sympathetic look. "It's strange, isn't it…worrying about clothes and matching colours."

"Yeah," Carrie nodded, having just had a moment of sheer disbelief. She couldn't believe she was standing there surrounded by racks of clothing, wondering what she would wear to a party.

"Just go with it," Maggie advised kindly. "It will get easier."

Taking her at her word, Carrie slipped out of the too large skirt and tried on the light grey pencil skirt Tara passed her, knowing as soon as she slipped it over her hips that it at least had a chance of fitting. Settling the top around her waist, she fastened the zip at the back and was pleased to by the nods of approval she got.

"This is better," Maggie commented, tugging at the back. "It gapes a bit, but I think Carol can just run it in a little, here and here…that won't take long at all"

"I don't want to put her out," Carrie said softly, still feeling as though Carol didn't exactly like her.

"She won't mind. She's already got some hemming to do for Rick and Carl."

"What, you mean Rick's not wearing the same old jeans again?" Rosita quipped.

Maggie laughed, hanging up the other skirts as Carrie started looking at the blouses. "No. When he goes to take a shower, Carol's going to sneak into his room and grab his jeans. Once they're in the washing machine, he'll have to wear what she gives him, or go trouser less."

"I vote trouser less," Rosita remarked, shrugging when everyone raised their eyebrows at her. "What? I can look."

Holding back what she wanted to say, that it was definitely worth the trouble of looking, Carrie focused her attention onto the blouses. Shrugging on her first choice she pulled the front together and then took it off again, already seeing that it was too large, and the next one too small.

"What about this one?" she enquired, slipping a sleeveless shirt over her head and adjusting it.

"Tuck it in," Maggie suggested. "See how that looks."

"What colour is that?" Tara mused. "I know it's purple, but what purple?"

"Aubergine?"

"No, it's more like Egg Plant."

"Aubergine is Egg Plant."

"No it's not, Aubergine is green."

Rosita looked at Tara incredulously. "Were you dropped on your head as a baby? Aubergine and Egg Plant are the same thing!"

Letting them argue, Maggie fussed with Carrie's shirt and tried to gauge her opinion. "I like it, but do you?"

"Yes," she agreed, looking down at it. The neckline was high enough for her comfort too, having not wanted her clothes to draw attention to herself. "I think this will be fine."

"What about jewellery?"

"No, that's too much."

"We'll you'll need a coat," Maggie insisted, helping her put the other shirts away. "And shoes. You want heels, or flats?"

Not to her surprise, this answer came easily. "Heels…always heels."

"Heels it is," Maggie agreed, showing her over to the shoes and glancing at the others. "You two, stop arguing and find Carrie a coat."

"Oh, wait…" Tara sighed. "I think I mean something else."

"Courgette?"

"Is that green?"

"So…who's the guy whose head you're not turning?" Maggie whispered, watching Rosita and Tara continue debating.

"No one," Carrie denied, feeling her cheeks go pink. Looking away she slipped on a pair of heels, setting them aside as they were too small.

Grinning, Maggie chuckled under her breath. "It's okay, I know already. Glenn told me."

"Oh, great…"

"It's okay," Maggie assured her. "So long as Eugene doesn't know, your secret is safe."

"Good to know," she smiled, pretending not to feel uncomfortable.

While she hadn't minded the teasing that occurred of the supply run, it felt different now they were back in Alexandria, now they were back in Rick's home. While she suspected that everyone on the supply run except Carl had figured it out, the notion that most people in Alexandria had not was strange. Even though it was no one else's business, she felt like she was living a lie she would be held accountable for, and she hoped that the rest of Rick's group approved. Thinking on this, Carrie worried a little more about Carol, suspecting that she knew and disapproved. Was that the root behind Carol's obvious mistrust?

Trying on a pair of beige heels, Carrie felt an old whooping sensation that came with finding the right pair of shoes. Unlike a few others she had tried on, these weren't too tall for the casual party…like she had said, she didn't really want to draw attention to herself. Letting the others critique her entire outfit and remembering the days when one's style of dress mattered, she couldn't help but feel a little more prepared for that night.

* * *

Judith's birthday had been exactly what Rick had hoped it would be, having lazed around in the morning just the three of them before celebrating in the afternoon with the whole group. Despite having had her usual two naps, it was approaching five thirty and already Judith was showing signs of tiredness. Even as she happily played with Carl, she occasionally stopped to rub her eyes or look into the kitchen, unconscious indications that she was in anticipation of her routine of dinner, bath and bed. Knowing they had an entire evening to get through first, Rick had packed her backpack with everything she would need, knowing he could put her to sleep in Deanna's guest room if he needed to.

Sitting on the living room floor, Rick tried to rid himself of the uncomfortable feeling he had in the bottom of his stomach. He tried to focus his attention on Judith, on watching her slowly walk back and forth between him and Carl, but there was no shaking the frustration that lingered in the back of his mind. Perhaps it was due to the first day of not filling his hours with work, but it was like he had forgotten something, and he felt antsy with uncertainty. If he hadn't been so determined to make sure Carl had a reasonably pleasant day of remembering Lori, Rick knew he would have been in a foul mood. Something was wrong, but he couldn't quite figure it out…nor could he shake it off.

Looking down at himself, he had to admit Carol was craftier than he gave her credit for. Though she'd expressed her desire for him to wear something other than his jeans to the party, he hadn't expected his reluctance to result in her actually stealing them from him. Grabbing her chance, she had snatched them from his bedroom while he showered and put them in the washing machine. He supposed the linen trousers she had chosen for him weren't all that bad, probably something Lori would have set out for him anyway, but did Carol really have to go to all that fuss just for a party?

She had been working overtime that day. Between helping him with Judith's cake that morning, and making three batches of cookies in the afternoon, she'd topped it off by setting out a sewing machine in order to start tailoring clothing. Rick and Carl had both suffered through the ordeal of standing on a chair while Carol pinned the hems, all the while praying she didn't accidentally stab them while she was in the middle of her argument with Daryl. To that extent, Rick had to give her more credit. Not only had she convinced Carl to endure a haircut, she'd convinced Daryl to come to the party with them that night…it only required twenty minutes of shouting, followed by an equally awkward silence.

"Whadda you expect me to do there, huh?" Daryl demanded loudly, not bothering to come in from where he was smoking on the front porch. "You wan' me to make small talk with all them?"

"Yes!" Carol snapped, making Carl flinch as a pin was jabbed precariously close to his ankle. "You make small talk, you crack a few jokes and you pretend. Could you just do one thing for me? One thing!"

"They don't want me there," he said, brushing her off.

"I don't care if they want you there or not, I want you there."

Carol had won of course, Daryl finally relenting when she repeatedly reminded him that she didn't ask him for much. Hell…she even got him to comb his hair. Once she had his agreement she left him to stew in his own frustrations, simply setting out the clothes she'd like him to wear and getting on with the rest of the day. Glancing out at him where he sat on the porch, Rick was pleased to see that a compromise had been reached…while Daryl wore the nice blue button up shirt and had combed his hair, his jeans and vest weren't going anywhere.

Looking at his watch, Rick felt himself getting frustrated, exercising all his patience as he waited for Carrie and Michonne to be ready. Carrie had been gone most of the afternoon already, she and Maggie returning home in a fit of giggles about an hour ago. Preoccupied with Judith, Rick had only overheard Maggie and Carol debating about seams and alterations on whatever it was Carrie was wearing. He hadn't seen Carrie since she had left for her haircut that afternoon, although she was now upstairs with Michonne, the two of them getting ready together. From the sound of their laughter, and the fact that Rosita had joined them not long ago, he suspected they were going to take a while.

Still feeling antsy to be doing something, Rick got to his feet and headed for the bottom of the stairs. "Michonne? How much longer are you three going to take?" Hearing heavy footsteps, he braced himself for Michonne's answer.

"Five minutes," she told him through gritted teeth, standing at the top of the stairs.

"Is that a man's five minutes, or a woman's?"

"Don't be sexist," she narrowed her eyes at him.

"It's not sexist, it's a genuine question. Which is it?"

"We're trying to cover the bruise on Carrie's leg."

"Why?" he enquired, interrupting her as she went to turn away.

"Because," she began, drawing the word out. "People keep asking her about it, and it's driving her crazy. Plus she's trying to do Rosita's eyeliner."

Sighing, Rick looked at his wrist watch. They were running late, and Judith was getting hungry. Since when did Rosita care about her make up? "Can we go without you?"

Michonne looked relieved. "That would be great. Thank you."

Thoroughly relieved, Rick hustled Carl to his feet and scooped up Judith, taking a moment to admire the bracelet around her wrist. He had chosen that for her on the supply run, a plain silver chain with a lady bug on the name plate…Carrie had helped him choose it. Straightening Judith's dress, he glanced up at the ceiling where Carrie's bedroom was, hearing raucous laughter once again. Despite his frustrations with them, he was glad to hear laughter in their home once again, and with that in mind he grabbed Judith's backpack and the last plate of cookies Carol hadn't been able to carry. She had left earlier, likely the only one of them who had arrived on time.

"Come on," he said to Daryl, sympathising with his reluctance. Handing him the plate of cookies, he readjusted Judith on his hip. "It might not be so bad."

Daryl just grunted noncommittally, grimacing when he reached for his crossbow and remembered he couldn't bring it, that it wasn't needed. "Spin us another lie. I'll take her home later," he said, gesturing to Judith. "She'll need to go to bed real early."

"No, she's my excuse. Breed your own."

"It's alright, Daryl," Carl teased as he headed up the road on his crutches, amused by his discomfort. "You can watch movies in the basement with the kids if you like."

"Carl," Rick started, giving him a disapproving look as they set off behind him.

"Might take him up on that," Daryl remarked grimly. His free hand moved nervously about, plunging into the pocket of his jeans and beginning to flick his lighter open and closed.

"Just put a drink in one hand, and food in the other," Rick muttered supportively.

"Anything else?" he enquired sarcastically, though Rick could tell he was listening attentively.

"Stay away from Judith, she's the centre of attention. Talk to Bob. He's deaf and boring, but no one else will risk interrupting you two."

"Bob…the old, guy, right?"

"Yeah. If you want to go all out, you could even crack a smile."

"Fuck off," he muttered under his breath, glaring at him. "I ain't doin' this for me, alright?"

"I know," he agreed. "But come on, if she didn't make such a scene about getting your promise, you'd only do what you did last time."

"What was that?"

"Another no show."

Daryl shrugged, brushing this off. "No one missed me."

"We did," he said emphatically. "So did others. People were asking about you."

"Those people are scared o' me."

"Can you blame them?" Rick asked, hastening to clarify. "People are scared of what they don't know."

"No shit," Daryl muttered, looking at the walls as they walked past the road between Jessie and Aaron's house.

"Like I said…drink in one hand, food in the other. And if it's completely awful, at least it'll be months before the next party."

"Why d'yah say that?"

"It's going to be some time before Eric's on his feet again to go recruiting…he's still got a while to go with that cast on his ankle."

"Mmm. So you…keen on that, then?" Daryl asked, looking ahead of them as Carl caught up to Mikey.

"On what? Recruiting?"

"Yeah."

"I don't really care. I like Aaron, I'm grateful for what he did for us. But if he's stupid enough to keep looking for people these days, that's not our problem."

"Didn't know yah felt that way."

"What way?"

"Just that…recruitin' ain't worth it."

Rick shook his head. "We can barely protect the people we have now, and Aaron wants to go and find more?"

"The people he finds…they'd be like us," Daryl shrugged, avoiding eye contact. "Won't need protectin'."

"They could also be like the people who attacked us on the supply run. It's not the right time," Rick insisted. "We've got more important things to worry about first."

"Right."

Moving Judith to his other hip, Rick looked at him closely, detecting his change of tone. "You feel differently?"

Daryl just shrugged, not committing to an answer. "How's it going with Carrie?"

Surprised by the change of topic, Rick hesitated before answering. "Just fine…she's settled in well I think."

"I saw her before. Looks good."

"Good for her."

"You two still on then?"

"Daryl," Rick sighed, almost at Deanna's house. Passing by their courtyard, he listened to the chatter and laughter coming from the party.

He didn't know what to think about Carrie right now…he knew he'd screwed up a little yesterday, somehow managing to glare at her three times without intending to do so. Then as he had expected it to be, things were a little strange today given that it was the anniversary of Lori's death…he figured she'd be trying to give him space because of that, but he didn't think she'd try to avoid Judith's birthday party. Thinking on something else, he realised that since their return, he had been the only one to initiate anything friendlier than a hello…she hadn't come to him once…did that mean something? Was there a reason she hadn't tried to initiate anything with him, or was he over thinking it?

"I'm just asking. I've heard Carter's gonna ask her out if he can get his balls out o' his panties."

Trying not to grit his teeth, Rick climbed the steps and knocked on the front door. "Good for him."

Daryl snorted derisively. "Careful. Your eyes are starting to look a little green."

"Shut it," he warned.

Sensing he was onto a sensitive topic, Daryl pushed onward. "So what's the protocol if he does ask her out? What's she supposed to say?"

"She can say whatever she likes."

"Really? So I don' have to take Carter out back and rough him up? Tell him to stay away from your woman?"

"Daryl, I swear to God, if you…" Rick's threat trailed off as the front door opened, and he hastily replaced his glare with the most pleasant smile he could muster.

"Rick," Reg greeted him with delight, stepping back and holding the door open. "Come on in, and Happy Birthday, Judy. Has she - Daryl? What a most pleasant surprise. Welcome."

Annoyed with him, Rick couldn't help but take pleasure in the look of discomfort on Daryl's face. For his sake at least, Reg seemed perceptive of this, and went out of his way to shake his hand and welcome him in.

"We brought more…cookies," Daryl said awkwardly, gesturing to the foil covered plate.

"Excellent," Reg nodded. "Let's bring them into the kitchen, and I'll fix you up with a drink. We've got whiskey that I think you'll like, or we have beer and wine, although…"

As Reg swept him inside the townhouse, Daryl looked over his shoulder at Rick, his alarmed expression clearly saying, " _don't leave me._ " Doing exactly that, he closed the door behind himself and entered the living room, immediately being set upon just as he had expected he would. Whoever had Judith tended to suffer the consequences of her popularity, and so he patiently listened and thanked everyone for their birthday wishes, recounting the general activities of the day.

With Judith sufficiently entertained, he passed her over to Shelley's waiting arms and let them fuss over her. Everyone but Rosita, Michonne and Carrie where there by now. He tried to enjoy himself as much as possible, doing what he had told Daryl to do. With plenty of family around to help keep an eye on Judith, Rick slipped into the crowd and started the obligatory mingling, though he refused offers of anything stronger than a soda. The hangover he'd had at the prison was more than enough to deter him. Making small talk with the others, he smiled and said all the right things, even though a part of him wanted to start laying the groundwork for organising weapons training. Resisting that for now, he let the time slip away, keeping a watchful eye on Daryl as much as he did Judith.

Thirty minutes passed easily, and it was then that Rick just happened to look around as Deanna opened the front door, eagerly welcoming in the final three guests. The atmosphere inside changed, everyone turning and glancing towards the front, waiting in keen anticipation of Carrie's arrival. Whispers broke out for a brief moment before everyone got themselves together, returning to their former activities as the guest of honour was welcomed inside. It was both a blessing and a curse that Rick couldn't properly see her, managing only to catch a glimpse of blonde hair as she followed Michonne and Rosita inside. He wanted to see her, to determine what it was she had done that made even Daryl comment on her appearance.

But it seemed she was being monopolised for now, and so Rick tried to put her out of his mind. People were also looking to him right now, particularly given that they knew he had been the one to stop for her, to bring her back here. He couldn't afford for anyone to notice him watching her more than he ought to, nor to notice the lingering jealousy in his eyes when he saw the other men looking at her, albeit innocently. Instead he went and found Daryl, glad to see with only a glance that he was managing to hold his own…then again, perhaps he was holding his own too well. He was talking to Carter, and when he saw Rick watching them he made a point of winking. As Rick's stomach clenched, he could only pray Daryl wasn't doing anything stupid like warning Carter off. Judging by Carter's smile and the way they shook hands before he took Daryl's empty beer bottle, things were okay.

"What are you doing?" he hissed to Daryl, heading over to him.

Daryl just grinned at him. "Just messin' with your head. That's what yah get for making me come here," he smirked. "You seen Carrie yet?"

"No."

"Well, she's over there."

Following the jerk of his head, Rick turned and looked around, frowning as he looked for Carrie. When he found her, he literally felt his mouth gaping. She looked so dramatically different from how he knew her that he had to look twice, staring at her as he ascertained that this was indeed the woman he picked up off the side of the road three weeks ago. He let his eyes rove up and down her, slowly taking in the changes and trying to figure them out. She'd cut her hair short, that perhaps being the most drastic change, and he paused to admire the way it accentuated her jaw, emphasising the rest of her features, her eyes in particular. Listening to something Rosita was saying to Rosemary, Carrie's eyes lit up when she laughed.

"Looks good, huh?" Daryl smirked.

Clearing his throat, Rick nodded and quickly looked away. But it was futile, for even as he tried not to, he knew it was inevitable that he look again. Captivated, he watched the way she talked, recognising the nervousness she was trying to hide, yet at the same time he recognised other things. Had he not been paying attention before? He'd always known she had a beautiful smile, one that elicited the same response from him, but had he ever noticed the way the corner of her mouth twitched, or the way the smile started in her eyes? As she listened attentively to something Rosemary said, the corner of her mouth twitched before she actually smiled.

To his surprise Carrie looked over at him now, another smile crossing her face when she noticed him watching her. It was a little more tentative this time, and she looked away before glancing back at him again. Being bold, she turned a little towards him and gestured down at herself, quirking her eyebrow as she silently asked what he thought. Paying attention again, he titled his head as he looked her up and down, noting her high waisted skirt and shirt…the shirt that was a little too tight across the front. He looked down her long legs, legs that he was intimately familiar with, and gulped when he saw that she was wearing heels…that was different.

"Careful…" Daryl warned. "You gon' pitch a tent in your pants if you keep looking at her like that."

Startled, Rick looked away in embarrassment, clearing his throat and glaring at Daryl when he started laughing at him. "You're not funny," he growled under his breath, turning his back to Carrie. When he saw Daryl looking past his shoulder and winking at her, his frustration grew. "Could you not be so damn obvious?"

"I ain't the obvious one."

"Well if you…" he trailed off, replacing his glare with a smile as Carter came back.

"Hey, Rick," Carter greeted him with a nod, handing Daryl a fresh beer. "Do you want one? Reg just brought them out, they're real nice."

"No, I'm fine," he said, glad for the distraction. "Thanks."

The conversation resumed, Carter and Daryl talking animatedly about Merle's motorbike, but almost as if the world was going out of it's way to make this harder for him, he soon noticed Carter looking over in Carrie's direction. His eyes kept nervously flicking back and forth, and Rick could see it in his eyes that he was trying to muster the courage to go and talk to her. Even though he had no right to it, for they had never promised to be exclusive to one another, possessiveness stirred in Rick's stomach.

 _She's out of your league, Carter,_ he thought darkly. _She's out of my league too…_

Against his better judgement, he looked over his shoulder at her, not surprised to find she now had a glass of white wine in her hand. She sipped at it and then said something to Rosita, leaving an imprint of red lipstick on the rim of the glass. That was different too…

Trying to get his head on straight, for outright possessiveness over a woman was not something he approved of, Rick excused himself on the pretence of looking for Judith. Daryl was fine, and he wasn't drinking too much…he didn't need Rick to baby sit him. He checked on Judith, who was happily perched on Erin's lap eating a cracker, and then checked on Carl too, who was outside in the courtyard taking advantage of the last of the sunlight. Restless, and not trusting himself to be anywhere in Carrie's immediate vicinity, Rick slipped into the kitchen in search of something else he had been avoiding.

Pouring himself a drink, he realised tonight was going to be more difficult than he expected.

* * *

A/N - Hope you enjoyed, and thanks for the reviews! Another chapter coming mid week, just to speed up the story progression a little.


	9. Chapter 9

So far, the party was going smoothly.

Rosita and Michonne had joined her that afternoon, the three of them getting ready together and fussing unnecessarily. In her heart Carrie knew that her clothing and make up didn't matter in this world, that she was putting effort into something completely insignificant. Yet at the same time she loved every moment of it, revelling in the time spent getting ready for the party…the party mattered. This was her real introduction to the people that were welcoming her into the community, for until now she had only made their acquaintance.

With the need to fit in weighing on her mind, she had been happy to go to this effort, knowing she could enjoy herself for one night at least. She knew the other women in Alexandria would be dressing up and wearing make up…even Carol seemed to dabb a little on every day, though Carrie questioned whether she did that voluntarily. So while Michonne carefully dabbed foundation onto the bruise on her leg, which had proven to be an unwelcome conversation starter, Carrie had applied Rosita's winged eyeliner with a careful and experienced hand, revelling in the perfection of it. It was strange to look at herself in the mirror to apply a little mascara, and then the red lipstick she hadn't been able to resist. Unlike many other times before, the face looking back at her was one which she recognised with relief and happiness…she knew that woman, she remembered who she was. Her new haircut was perhaps the most welcome change to her appearance, at least in her own eyes anyway. Beyond pleased to have the long locks gone, she constantly found herself reaching up to touch it, her fingers rubbing the neat ends as if to remind herself of how short it was now.

As it always did, time slipped away, and before she knew had time to even think about it, it had passed seven o'clock in the evening. Carrie was only on her second glass of wine for the evening, pacing herself given the shot of tequila she and Rosita choked down before their departure. The liquid courage was helping, the alcohol going some way to soothe her nerves and help her relax…she just hoped it didn't loosen her tongue too much. She knew everyone here already, having made the acquaintance of all residents over the weekend. Tonight was about getting to know them properly, without the buffer of unloading and sorting the supplies. Thinking back on what she had told herself earlier that day, that she only needed to find a source of common ground with these people, Carrie endured the fact that everyone wanted a piece of her, that she was the new kid in class.

Rosita and Michonne had moved on elsewhere by now, but Carrie was fine without them. Though at first she had made it clear they weren't to ditch her, after an hour she'd subtly told them they she was alright now. The wine was certainly helping anyway. Even though she'd reached the point of wanting some fresh air, she simply made her way around the room, letting the Alexandrian's commoditise her with their curiosity. She couldn't help but feel a bit like Judith who was constantly passed from person to person, except she clearly enjoyed all the fuss and attention…most babies would.

Listening to Barbara and Shelly telling her about the little garage school, Carrie subtly looked around the room, her eyes seeking out the one person who seemed to be avoiding her tonight. She'd seen Rick only once that night, having caught his eye while he was talking to Daryl. She wasn't oblivious to the way he had looked at her, the slight gape of his mouth indicating his surprise to see her looking as she did, but she hadn't expected him to avoid her. While she'd smiled and gestured down at herself, seeking his opinion from across the room, Rick had hastily looked away and then promptly ignored her for the rest of the night. Feeling a slight sting of rejection, she wondered if he was avoiding her through disinterest, or too much interest.

Finding him again, she was amused to see him sipping at a glass of whiskey, having thought he intended to not drink this evening. Perhaps like she, he needed something to help him get through the night. She knew what he thought of these people, how their innocence and naivety frustrated him to no end. Watching him for a few moments, she wished he would look over at her, that he'd share that knowing smile that indicated they were thinking along the same lines. But he didn't afford her this…he was still ignoring her. In fact, he gratefully accepted a refill of his drink and then followed Glenn outside, leaving her line of sight.

Before her wavering attention was noticed, Carrie looked back to Barbara and Shelly, for she was genuinely interested in what they had to say about the school. Aside from the fact that Deanna had mentioned that perhaps she might get involved too, she liked the idea that despite everything that went on outside the walls, life inside continued. Education was still important, despite how much the kids like Carl felt differently. As she listened to them, she tried her best to ignore the small cues that indicated their naivety, constantly reminding herself that she only had to find common ground with these people, but it was proving to be more difficult than she expected.

While she acknowledged that for most people, talking about their experiences during and after the outbreak was difficult, she had found that even the most traumatised people were usually willing to recount general events. These days it was a necessary part of introducing yourself to someone, it was one of the most common topics. She knew the stories of most people in her new group, having learnt how Rick met everyone in Atlanta and the quarry, how Michonne had started at a refugee camp before meeting Andrea. These days it was the story of how one made it through the world that defined them, what they had done to survive…and yet the Alexandrian's didn't seem keen on acknowledging this aspect of their lives. As if the world had not existed prior, they talked only about their lives in Alexandria and not making reference to before. Trying to be understanding, Carrie figured that perhaps it was too painful for them. Despite their naivety, that had lost people too, they had lost their homes and their families, their entire lives had crashed down upon them just like Carrie's had.

Having tried to bring it up, Carrie was quickly learning that the Alexandrian's had a knack for not only avoiding questions, but for quickly turning conversations back to their present lives, talking about their general activities and the things they did. Like Jessie had warned her, Carrie certainly got the impression that gossip was rampant, but as for the outbreak? These people did not bring it up…it was like they lived in a bubble and the outside world did not exist. No one talked about the walls…no one talked about the Walkers. Hell, no one even talked about the Walkers with the W, a topic that Carrie knew was on the forefront of some minds right now.

"Sasha took me outside the walls yesterday," she said to Barbara and Shelly. Curious to see how they'd turn the conversation around, she dared to bring it up. "There weren't too many Walkers around, which was nice for a change."

"That is nice," Shelly agreed pleasantly. "Sasha is lovely, don't you think?"

Carrie doubted that Shelly really felt this way…she knew from Sasha herself what her first impression was, that her prickly behaviour was ongoing. While Carrie liked Sasha, the two of them having unexpectedly hit it off, she knew the Alexandrian's hadn't had that chance.

"Yeah, she is. She showed me where the new walls are going. It looks like we're going to have a lot more space here."

"Yes," Barbara smiled, turning to Shelly. "I can't wait to see which houses get walled in. Once we get started on those, we're going to have our hands full."

"You haven't seen the houses?" Carrie frowned.

Returning her frown, Shelly smiled and shook her head. "No, of course not."

Recovering quickly, Carrie returned her smile. "Why's that?"

"Well, we've seen them…" Barbara clarified. "You can get a really good view of the next street from my current house. I've got my eye on the house with the light grey roof, the one with the art deco bathroom."

Shelly laughed. "Barbara and I love art deco. As soon as we looked at that house through the binoculars, we knew we wanted it."

"You want it?"

"Yeah. We might have to flip a coin for it."

"We love each other," Barbara chuckled. "But I don't think we could ever share a house. We'd get on each other's nerves, wouldn't we Shell?"

"We nearly killed each other when we all lived in the lake houses, back before the first expansion. We couldn't stand one another. Remember, Barbara?"

"Do I? Remember that time when I borrowed your Danielle Steele book, but I put your book mark back in the wrong place?"

"I was reading the final chapters before I realised why I was so darned confused," Shelly told Carrie in exasperation. "I'll never forgive you for spoiling that for me."

Laughing along with them, Carrie felt a weight beginning to settle on her shoulders. She had a lot of things she'd never forgive certain group members for…losing her place in a book was not one of them. "So you…you don't go out?" she enquired.

Just like before, Shelly and Barbara both frowned at her, looking taken aback by this question.

"We don't need to," Shelly shrugged, her pleasant smile beginning to grate on Carrie's nerves. "Why would we ever go outside?"

"Well, you know," Carrie started weakly, wishing she knew how to stop talking. "To…to keep your skills up. To stay strong."

Barbara smiled now, appearing to understand. "Oh we do," she assured her. "Of course we stay strong."

Carrie felt a brief flicker of hope…these women stayed strong, they knew how to handle themselves…but that hope was only fleeting.

"Yes," Shelly agreed. "We work out together all the time, Erin has a home gym in her garage."

"There's a treadmill, weights, rowing machine."

"And one of those big gym balls," Shelly chuckled, starting to go red. "Although, I wouldn't know what to do with that old thing. I'm more into the rowing machine."

"It would be so good if we had a cross trainer," Barbara remarked. "I need the cardio, but the treadmill is just too rough on my knees when I get to anything faster than a power walk. A cross trainer is a lot gentler on your joints."

"You should speak to Aidan and Nicholas, ask if they've seen one around. You know they'll get it for you when they can."

"What about you, Carrie? How do you like to stay fit?"

The words came tumbling out before she could think twice. "Oh, a machete and dozen Walkers, that's my work out for the day," she joked, her smile fading quickly. There was an awkward pause, the two women glancing at each other before Shelly gave a light hearted chuckle. Panicking, Carrie did the same, trying to recover from her obvious mistake. "I mean yoga," she laughed weakly, clearing her throat. "I like yoga."

"Oh, so do I," Shelly smiled. "I'm not very good at it though. My coordination is, well…"

"That's just because she only tries it after a few glasses of wine," Barbara teased.

"Well that's the only time it seems like a good idea."

Daring to try again, Carrie asked, "Don't you get stir crazy living in here?"

"Oh, sometimes," Barbara shrugged nonchalantly, holding up her wine glass. "Nothing our friend Pinot Grigio can't help us get past."

"You know, Rick goes outside all the time. At least twice a day. I'm sure he'd be happy to take you out for a little while," she suggested, curious as to how they'd respond. "He'd look after you just fine."

There was another uncomfortable laugh, Shelly smiling a little more than necessary. "No," she shrugged, shaking her head as though embarrassed. "He doesn't need to do that for us."

"I'm sure he wouldn't mind, he's great with things like that," she continued, needing to press them harder. "You could get a look at that house, stake your claim."

They exchanged another glance, and this time it was Barbara who spoke. "You know, maybe that's something for us to think about," she said politely. "That's a good suggestion, Carrie. Thank you."

"No problem," she said, returning the fake politeness. "I was talking to Daryl yesterday," she lied, picking the other person who would likely seem most intimidating to them. "He was telling me all about what they've got planned for outside. They're doing surveillance cameras, building traps…they're making safe houses for us, just in case."

"They're certainly keeping themselves busy," Shelly agreed.

Carrie could see how uncomfortable they seemed, Shelly in particular. Was it really that hard for them to even talk about what was on the other side of the walls?

"Shell thinks it all a little over the top," Barbara teased wryly, smiling at Shelly. "Don't you Shell?"

Giving yet another too polite smile, Shelly shrugged her shoulders and looked at Carrie. "Just a little…I mean, we saw these walls built from the very start. They are solid. Roamers are never going to bring them down."

"What about people?"

"Sorry?"

"People," Carrie stated, keeping her tone pleasant. "People could bring them down."

"There's never been any people around here," Shelly said, sounding as though she was trying to reassure Carrie. "You don't need to worry about that."

"But there are people out there. We got held up at gun point twice during the supply run." There was an uncomfortable silence now, and while Carrie regretted her tenacity in pushing the subject, she had no choice but to continue.

"That must have been awful for you," Barbara said softly, and Carrie could tell her sympathy was genuine. "For everyone."

"That's why Carl should have been made to stay home," Shelly said quietly, her tone disapproving. "To think he got shot out there? How could Rick have allowed that to happen? That supply run was no place for children."

"You're right," Carrie agreed politely. "Nicholas definitely should not have come."

She had definitely put her foot in it this time, and Carrie could see the way Shelly's eyes practically bulged with disapproval for her remark. The awkwardness was palpable, and it seemed neither Barbara nor Shelly knew what to say…for that matter neither did Carrie, though she knew a recovery was necessary.

"I'm just saying," she started awkwardly, trying to keep the conversation moving before the silence stretched too far. "Maybe it's a good thing that they're putting up a surveillance system."

"Yes," Barbara nodded, giving Shelly a pointed look. "It sounds like it is."

Shelly nodded. "You know, my second cousin used to work for a security company reviewing footage. He used to see some crazy things. He always joked that if…"

Breathing out slowly, Carrie was mentally kicking herself, knowing she had allowed her frustration to escalate. She shouldn't have said that about Nicholas, she wasn't going to find any common ground with these people if she kept talking to them in such a condescending way. It was difficult not to though, particularly when they kept making it so easy for her. Looking at them now, laughing at a story Shelly's cousin had told her many years ago, Carrie realised that they had never been outside the walls…that they really had no idea. Taking a very long drink of her wine, she gulped it down, needing it more than she had realised, although she suspected that was the reason for her loosened tongue.

"When we first built the walls," Barbara began, finally broaching the subject Carrie thought they'd continue avoiding. "It was only a wall between the back of the townhouses and the backs of the infirmary and Rosemary's house…the lake kept the other end clear enough for us. Anyway, we all lived in those two little houses, about twenty of us."

"Twenty nine," Shelly corrected.

"What was wrong with the townhouses?" Carrie enquired.

There was a short pause, but Shelly answered. "The Roamers used to come right up to the windows," she said softly. "It was awful being in there, so we kept to the others. Keep going, Barbara."

"Anyway…My sons and I, we used to share a bedroom with the Andersons…talk about crowded," she cringed. "I tell you. Jessie and I, crammed in there with Pete, Kent and four rowdy boys. That's how I met my new friend," she joked, gesturing to her glass of wine.

"You think that's cramped?" Shelly challenged. "The room I shared was right next to the one Dean shared, and he is quite the snorer."

"Carrie? How are you liking it over at Rick's house?" Barbara asked, trying to be friendly. "It must be a bit crowded there too."

"Oh, it's not so bad," she assured them, surprised by their complaints about overcrowding. They should have been rejoicing about the four walls and the roof they had. "They're very welcoming. Daryl even gave up his bedroom for me."

Shelly just raised her eyebrow, and Carrie could see a glint of gossip in her eyes. "To be honest, I'm surprised Deanna housed you with them."

"Why's that?"

"Well," she began, trailing off suddenly. When she continued, Carrie could tell she was choosing her words carefully. "They're so crowded in those two houses. And there's plenty of room in the shared townhouse, or with Rosemary's family."

Carrie nodded in agreement. "Well, I was-"

"I mean, five adults, a teenager and a baby?" Shelly cut her off. "That must be driving you nuts."

"No," she tried to clarify. "I'm just glad to have a roof over my head. To be honest, I was more worried about putting Daryl out of his room, but h- ."

"Still," Shelly shrugged, not seeing the pointed look Barbara was giving her. "It must feel very crowded for you."

There was a slight pause, and this time Carrie couldn't stop what she said next even if she tried. "At the start of the outbreak, I lived in a dumpster," she said bluntly. "Once I got past the stench of the two corpses and rats I shared it with, it was really quite comfortable…but in hindsight I'm glad that they didn't snore."

The tension was borderline excruciating, Carrie's bluntness rendering Barbara and Shelly speechless. Waiting, and daring them to try and say something else, she watched as they shifted uncomfortably, Shelly looking anywhere but at her while Barbara at least had the decency to look embarrassed. Just as they had to her, Carrie sure had taken them by surprise…did they really have their heads so deep in the sand they complained about overcrowding? Glancing to her right, she suddenly became aware that others must have heard what she said, that perhaps she spoke louder than she intended. A couple of people were looking at her from the corner of their eyes, trying to pretend they weren't and hastily looking away when she saw them. She started to feel sick to her stomach, her racing heart and the icy chill down her spine telling her how much she wanted to flee. Was this how Sasha had felt? Certainly this was what Sasha had warned her about…

"You know what?" Carrie started hesitantly, clearing her throat. She glanced at Barbara, who was trying to convey her apology with her eyes. "I think I've had too much of your friend here," she remarked, gesturing to what was left of her wine as she took a step back. "I might get myself a glass of water."

"Alright," Barbara managed to smile. "It was nice getting to know you…I'd love to have you over to my house for coffee one day."

"Yeah," Shelly added, recovering. "Same here. A coffee date sounds excellent."

Even though the sight of their false smiles made her want to be sick, Carrie forced herself to return it, recognising it as their way of offering a recovery from this. Despite her growing nausea, she thanked them for their offer of a coffee date before leaving. Trying not to look as though she was fleeing, she looked down as she made her way through the people, ignoring whoever tried to get her attention. Needing to get away, she simply headed straight for the terrace doors and didn't look up until she had reached them.

Gripping the latch tightly, she opened it and stepped outside, gulping in the fresh air with great relief. Not looking back inside, she closed the door behind herself and fled into the shadows of the terrace, needing the opportunity to hide. Looking around to ascertain that she was alone, she was glad that the sudden cold weather had drawn everyone inside. Her hands trembled as she took a deep breath and held it, trying to get herself under control, to reign in the emotions that were welling up inside her. Everything was threatening to escape against her will, her throat tightening as she held back the scream of frustration she needed to release. She felt incredibly foolish…embarrassed not just by what she had said, but by the naivety she herself had shown. While she had known they were sheltered, she hadn't expected this degree of ignorance. None of them had any idea what was going on outside these walls. They pretended that they did, having listened to a few supply runners' short recounts of world on the outside, but they had no idea what it all meant. They had no idea the way in which people suffered. Preferring not to know, they never pried or asked too many questions. What Carrie had at first mistaken for politeness was really just them burying their head in the sand.

They were wilfully ignorant.

The knowledge that they'd been inside the walls since the very start meant Carrie finally understood what Rick had been telling her…the common ground she had been hoping to find? It wasn't there. How could it be? While they had of course experienced their own hardship and loss during the outbreak itself, following that they'd been completely sheltered inside these walls. They'd never gone hungry, they'd never been too cold or too thirsty…they'd never spent every waking minute poised and ready for the fight that always came. They'd never learnt that people were the ones they should really be afraid of…they'd never used sex to protect themselves.

Forcibly ridding herself of the latter though, Carrie marched forward to the table, seeing something there that would help her troubles. Plucking the wine bottle out of the ice bucket, she topped up her glass and then took a long gulp, needing it desperately. It was the same label as what Aidan had brought on the supply run, delicious and expensive. Swallowing it gratefully, she forcefully told herself not to cry before topping the glass up again. She couldn't cry…not now. Not tonight. Emptying the bottle, she set it aside and then began to drink again…but seconds later she flinched in surprise, seeing a shadow moving on her left.

"Carrie? Are you alright?"

Her heart leapt into her throat at the sound of Glenn's voice, the cool wine spilling over her fingertips. Looking around at him, she felt embarrassment momentarily taking the place of her anger and sadness. Wondering exactly what he had seen, she laughed awkwardly as she located him in the darkness, but she trailed off when she saw who was with him. As two silhouettes emerged from the shadows, the light from inside cast across their faces, her heart sank back down into her stomach when she saw Rick. He was looking at her with a frown, his concern for her evident.

"I'm alright," she told Glenn, putting on the false smile she was using far too much that night. From the corner of her eye she could see Rick slipping his hands into his pockets, tilting his head as he looked at her critically. "I'm just…going for a smoke," she said offhandedly, trying to make an excuse.

"Are you sure you're okay?" Glenn asked again, coming further forward.

"Absolutely," she nodded, turning away before he could stop her. "I'll be right back.

Focusing her attention on the rhythmic way her heels clacked against the ground, she crossed the terrace and headed for the stairs, needing to escape it all. The simple act of moving her body was helping, and she had to stop herself from breaking out into a run…but she needed something to help release the physical ache she felt in her chest. As soon as she was back in the dark shadows of the courtyard below, she gulped another mouthful of the wine and then headed for the exit. She wanted to go home, to tear off the stupid clothes she was wearing and climb into her bed…but even with self-medication, she knew she wasn't going to be able to sleep. She was too keyed up, too on edge after learning what she just had.

There was something she needed, something strong enough to relieve the ache inside her chest, to ease the agony of finally seeing reality, she just didn't know what that was. Reaching the road she turned left, but made it only ten paces before she heard footsteps coming behind her. By the time she had decided to ignore whoever was following her, she realised she was heading the wrong way, that she was going down hill towards the solar panels, not uphill towards home. Slowing to a stop, she clenched her jaw in frustration as she listened to the footsteps behind her, recognising who they belonged to. How could she not? She knew that walk…she knew who it was following her.

Taking a deep breath and still trying not to cry, she stood in the darkness and shivered. She took another long gulp of her wine, enjoying the burn in her throat that made her cough. Forcing it down and eagerly awaiting the light headedness and lack of care that should soon follow, she wished that Rick wouldn't bother trying to help her. His footsteps had stopped now, and even though he didn't say anything, she could tell he was there behind her, waiting. She appreciated this…the fact that he didn't say anything or try to give her false comfort. Perhaps like she, he understood that words wouldn't bring her any solace right now.

Turning around to face him through the darkness, she looked at him expectantly, wondering what he was going to do. Would he try to convince her to come back to the party? To force herself through the festivities so that scene she had just created didn't get worse? He was standing silently, he hands slipping back into his pockets as he shifted his weight to his other foot. It didn't take her long to figure out that he was waiting for her to start, for her to tell him what she needed…she had no doubt that if she told him to fuck off he would, or that if she started yelling and screaming he'd take that too. The simple act of following her and waiting indicated that he was there for whatever she needed.

Trying to figure out exactly what that was, Carrie opened her mouth to speak, raising her free hand in exasperation. Everything she wanted to yell and scream was suddenly gone, her mind blank as her body filled with a restless energy. There was an awkward moment where she simply stood there, plagued by uncertainty. She took a hesitant step forward, her body telling her to do something…to do anything. Giving in, she gripped her wine glass as she marched towards him, the heel of her shoes echoing loudly with every step. She was acting without thought, letting her body take what her mind needed to find relief.

Seizing him by the front of his shirt, she brought her lips to his and kissed him.

* * *

The evening was progressing well enough, the time thankfully not dragging out too long. Having put away two glasses of whiskey on pure whim, Rick had quickly pulled himself back into line, knowing he ought not to drink any more. He'd put the responsibility of Judith onto Carol for too long already, and if he was inebriated he knew she'd would step in to care for his daughter yet again. Checking the time and seeing that it was a little before seven o'clock, he figured he might try to put Judith down to sleep in the next hour or so. While he didn't mind letting her stay up, particularly given the festivities, he knew she'd only get over tired and struggle to go to sleep. Though she seemed cheerful and excited by the change in routine, Rick could tell that she was tired.

Keeping his eye on her, he was pleased to find her sitting on Maggie's lap in the living room while she ate dinner. Though she seemed happy enough, Rick noted the red colour around her eyes and the way she sucked her thumb, her fingers curling around her nose. She was definitely tired. Focusing on Maggie now, Rick smiled as he thought about the news she and Glenn had given him earlier that afternoon, that they were going to be parents. To say he had been happy for them was an understatement, but he'd been forced to keep his excitement under wraps for now. Only he and Carol knew at this stage, and Maggie wanted to keep it that way for a little while longer. Rick was touched that they had wanted him to be one of the first to know. But of course, the news that Maggie and Glenn were expecting only reignited the grief they felt for the people who should be there to rejoice with them, Herschel and Beth. Knowing them well, he knew exactly how excited the two of them would have been, how they and Glenn would have doted over Maggie and the baby.

Avoiding thoughts of Herschel and Beth, Rick focused his attention elsewhere, trying his best to enjoy the party. Carrie seemed to be holding her own well enough, happily talking to more people than she must have in a long time. It seemed that after a short while Michonne and Rosita had left her alone and disappeared elsewhere, though Rick suspected that this was with Carrie's approval. Thinking on how much his group cared for and sought to protect her, even from the well meaning Alexandrian's, he was grateful for their efforts. Although largely monopolised, Carrie continued making her way around the room, always clutching the glass of wine in her hand and never refusing the frequent top ups. If she was drunk though, she was hiding it well…he knew from experience that she had a fairly good tolerance.

Despite her confidence and grace, Rick could see the lingering effects of what had happened to her outside in the real world. He could see her initial discomfort whenever she was introduced to one of the men, no matter how kind and friendly they were. Her shoulder's would momentarily hunch, and she would lean back a little even though she quickly grew comfortable. The reaction was so subtle Rick wondered if she knew she was doing it, if it was a conscious action she made to protect herself from someone who might be a threat to her. He remembered the first few days she spent with his group, the way that even though she willingly travelled alone in a car with he and Daryl, she was always on edge. God, the fear she must have felt that first day when Rick made her clean herself up, he and Daryl standing on watch while she stripped naked behind them. He should have called for Rosita and Michonne to come back…she must have been scared.

Though he knew he was watching her more than necessary, Rick allowed himself to keep doing it, still feeling as protective over her as the first day she had arrived there. Regardless of this, he didn't actually go and talk to her that night, part of him knowing that once he did, he wouldn't want to leave her. It had been difficult enough over the last few days to keep his thoughts about her straight…that combined with how beautiful she looked tonight made him want to steal her away from the party, for them to find a dark corner where they could make good on some of the thoughts running through his head. While at first he had been glancing her way out of innocent concern, the more the night went on the more he knew he was keeping track of who was talking to her, of who was showing an interest. The more this happened the worse he felt…he was not normally possessive by nature, and he shouldn't be thinking that way about her. Despite this, there was a part of him that wanted to be able to go over to her and slide his arm around her waist, to make the subtle cues to everyone else that she was spoken for…even though he had no right to speak for her.

As this thought occurred to him, he glanced over in her direction yet again. She was talking to Shelly and Barbara now, and despite her polite smile and her laughter, he could read her body language…she wasn't completely at ease. Feeling sorry for her, particularly that she was stuck talking to Shelly, he glanced around to see where Michonne and Rosita had got to, annoyed that they weren't with her…they should have checked on her by now.

"Hey," Glenn said, interrupting him from his thoughts. He gestured to the french doors that led out to the patio. "You want some fresh air?"

"Yeah," he answered, grateful for the suggestion.

Excusing themselves, the two of them slipped through the french doors and into the cold night air of the terrace, Rick gratefully breathing it in. Unexpected gusts of cold wind had prompted everyone to cram into the townhouse for shelter, and with sixty people it had quickly become rather stuffy. The cold wind had largely died down, but there was still a sharp chill to the air, meaning that Rick and Glenn were alone outside. Less bothered by the weather, for they had endured far worse conditions for longer, they gratefully breathed in the fresh air and revelled in the quietness, glad to be out of the crowd inside.

"Daryl's doing alright," Glenn commented, as surprised as Rick was. "I just saw him talking to Jeffery and Dean. Is he drunk?"

Rick smiled, leaning his forearms against the porch railing. "Only a little. He won't drink too much, he's behaving."

"I'm surprised he's still here. I thought he was going to make an appearance and then slip out the back when no one was looking."

"He's making an effort, for Carol's sake. Hell, he might even be enjoying himself."

Glenn paused before laughing shortly. "Right. Daryl enjoying himself in Alexandria…are you sure you're not drunk?"

Chuckling, Rick shook his head to reassure him. Looking out at the houses he could see, he was annoyed to find that some residents hadn't thought ahead, that their blinds were still open and their lights on, despite them not being there. At night the glow from Alexandria could be seen from outside the walls if the windows weren't properly covered. Aside from attracting Walkers, the light was a pretty good draw for any people who might be around. They might as well send up a smoke signal.

"I've been talking to lots of people," Glenn began, indicating why he had brought Rick outside.

"And?"

"No one seems to be opposing the idea of surveillance cameras, or safe houses…but as for the suggestion of them going to see them once they're complete? That got a less than enthusiastic response."

He had suspected this would be the case. "There's no point in having safe houses for these people if they don't know how to get to them."

"Stop saying these people," Glenn told him, knowing what he meant by it. "They're your people too."

"No, they're not," he replied impatiently. "They don't want to be."

"You don't want them to be either," Glenn reminded him. "You can't blame them for avoiding someone who doesn't want them."

Rick didn't say anything. Glenn had a point, and that annoyed him.

"We've got a general idea of their skills now, especially after getting to know Tobin on the supply run," Glenn continued. "Most people wouldn't even think of using a knife or machete to take out Walkers."

"No," he agreed. "They're too afraid of getting up close."

"Yes. All of the men know basic gun handling and are competent, particularly the construction crew. Stacey was part of the NRA, it will be worth getting her on board to support the gun training. Francine, too. She seems open to this kind of thing."

"What about the others we haven't met yet? Heath, Scott and Annie? When are they coming back?"

"Maggie said they came back about a week after we left, and then left again the day before we arrived. They're expected back next week."

"We'll need to make good with them too. As for Francine…we should ask her to help set up the safe houses, get her helping outside the walls. The more of them we get outside with us, the more that will follow."

"Maybe we could get Stacey to take a watch shift. She taught half the construction crew to shoot."

"Yes," Rick nodded in agreement, though he grit his teeth before making the next statement. "The more we start getting them involved in the basics, the more we can get them on board with the heavier stuff."

"You should talk to Stacey about the watch."

He shook his head. "No, Sasha's in charge of the watch rotation."

Glenn laughed now, taking a sip of his beer and mimicking Rick's stance. "No offence to Sasha, but you've got a better chance of working Stacey."

"Oh?"

"Yes. You've got…charisma," Glenn said, trying not to laugh again. "You can flirt with her a little."

"Flirt with Stacey?" Rick practically exclaimed, looking at Glenn incredulously. "She reminds me of one of those librarians that goes around shushing people. No wonder Carl hates going to school when she teaches."

"I'm sure you can look past that."

"Even if I could," Rick began, not bothering to remind Glenn how little success he had impressing women in general. "It wouldn't work. Not here anyway."

"Why's that?"

"You've seen the way they look at me."

"Yeah, with lust in their eyes," he joked.

"Glenn," he scolded him. "You know what I'm getting at. I'm the loose canon from the outside that wants to upheave their perfect little lives. They won't pay attention to me."

"They won't if you don't try."

"Try? Okay…" he muttered, genuinely thinking for a moment. "My version of trying would be to bring a Walker in here and set it loose."

Glenn raised his eyebrow. "I can see where you're going with that, but it wouldn't work."

"It would make a point. They'd at least see how badly they need to defend themselves."

"They know they're defenceless," Glenn began, emphasising what he was saying. "That's not the problem."

"What is then?"

"The problem is that they think they're safe here…if you want to go all out to make a point, you'd be better off to take an RPG to the walls, just to prove they can come down."

Rick paused, picturing this. "That's actually not a bad idea."

Glenn chuckled lightly before looking up at him, realising he was serious. "I was joking," he said very seriously. "I don't need to tell you that taking down the walls here is not a good idea, do I?"

"Just one wall…" he muttered, glad he had something to consider. "We could take down one of the walls they're building in the expansion. It would be enough to prove the point that they can be taken down."

"And it would scare them," Glenn warned him. "You think they see you as a loose cannon now? You go and start blowing stuff up, then they'll never listen to you again."

Shrugging, Rick was unconcerned. "It's something to consider at least."

There was a brief silence, the two of them pausing as the weight of their suggestions sank on. Though Rick was keen on the idea, he knew that Glenn was right…these people would not respond well to his preferred way of making a point. Remembering what it was like with Shane, how difficult it was trying to understand what he was trying to tell them about the way the world worked, Rick knew he had to approach the Alexandrian's with care, with thought. Bluntness and dramatic demonstrations would not work with them, that would only alienate them.

"We didn't get much time to talk today," he remarked, looking at Glenn with a smile.

"About what?"

"You and Maggie…the baby."

As he expected it might, the topic elicited a smile from Glenn. With a long sigh, he too looked out into the darkness, taking a moment before he spoke. "Just when I thought I couldn't get happier. Then this."

"Think you're happy now? Wait until you've got that baby in your arms."

"Yeah," Glenn said breathlessly, still in awe now as much as he had been when he and Maggie told Rick. "It's…what?" he asked, seeing the strange look Rick was giving him.

Rick hesitated before he spoke. "I'm proud of you."

"For what?" Glenn laughed. "Accidentally knocking up Maggie?"

Echoing his laugh, Rick explained. "When we first met, you were this young guy with balls the size of Texas," he remarked, earning another laugh from Glenn. "Now look at you. You're married, you're starting a family. Did you see that coming?"

Glenn shook his head. "No…I didn't."

"Well like I said. I'm proud of you…of who you've become. I know Herschel was proud to have you as his son."

"Thanks," Glenn said quietly, and Rick could tell this meant a lot for him to hear. There was a short pause, the two of them standing side by side as Rick waited for him to continue, knowing he had more to say. "Everything's going to change, isn't it?"

"Yes. For the better, of course."

Nodding, Glenn cleared his throat and spoke again. "Yeah, for the better, I know."

"Do you?" he questioned wryly.

Grimacing, Glenn sighed with a short chuckle. "No," he moaned. "I have no idea. I won't lie…I'm freaking out a little."

"This baby going to be the making of you," Rick assured him. "I promise."

"How do you mean?"

Casting his mind back, Rick fondly remembered watching as Glenn and Maggie fell further in love with each other, even despite the loss of the farm and their people. "When you met Maggie, you must have matured ten years over night. I know this sounds cheesy, but I could see that you had found a meaning for your life, a purpose."

Glenn nodded, hanging onto Rick's every word.

"It's the same thing becoming a parent, only stronger. You'll see yourself differently too."

"How?"

"You'll see how important you are…you'll understand the meaning you hold to others, especially your children. Have you given any thought to Aidan and Nicholas?" Rick enquired, explaining when Glenn looked at him in confusion. "I don't want you taking them on supply runs. Especially not now you're becoming a father."

A dark look crossed Glenn's face, and Rick could see how torn he was. "Problem is, they're the ones taking me on supply runs."

"That's just splitting hairs."

"I'm considering it," he promised. "I'm considering it long and hard. You should do the same…reconsider things, I mean."

"Like what?" he asked, dreading the answer.

"Like, Carrie."

Rick frowned, looking at him in confusion. "What about her?"

"I can see the way you've been looking at her."

"I'm just keeping an eye on her tonight, that's all."

"Come on, Rick," Glenn scoffed, shaking his head. "It's me you're talking to. You're the one who first told me how precious love is."

Rick was startled by this remark, his defences immediately raised. "Woah," he said hastily, looking around as though someone had overheard. "Don't go saying things like that," he warned Glenn, lowering his voice. "That's not how it is between us."

"Fine…but I can see the way you've been looking at her. No one is that jealous over nothing."

"Glenn…"

"I'm just saying."

"Well, don't," Rick retorted, not knowing what else to say. Glenn's insight into his jealousy was as unwelcome as the jealousy itself. "You're got your wires crossed, alright? It's not…"

He trailed off quickly as the patio doors opened, the chatter from inside audible until whoever it was stepped out and closed the door behind themselves. As if she had overheard part of their conversation, it was Carrie who was coming outside, though it seemed she hadn't noticed them at first. Partially hidden by the shadows, he and Glenn turned in unison to look at her, Rick immediately picking up that something was wrong. He could see that she was shaking, could hear her unsteady breaths as she stood stock still before marching over to the outside table. To his surprise she plucked the wine bottle from an ice bucket and topped up her glass, muttering under her breath before she took a large gulp.

Worry settled in the pit of his stomach, and he glanced inside in search of what it was that had upset her, or more specifically, who. Seeing her shoulders start to shudder, Rick was about to speak before seeing her top up her glass again, this time filling it to the brim. The glass clumsily clinked against the table as she picked it up and took another drink. She was clearly upset by something, and it was Glenn who spoke up first.

"Carrie?" he began in concern. "Are you alright?"

Had it been any other time, her reaction to his enquiry would have been comical. Having thought she was alone she was jolted by the sound of Glenn's voice, the wine in her glass sloshing over her fingers. Watching her, Rick observed the way embarrassment crossed her face, and she awkwardly started to laugh before clearing her throat. He started forward towards her, wishing to see her better, but when she saw him her face visibly fell. Hastily recovering, she fixed a smile on her face.

"I'm alright," she said with a little laugh, looking to Glenn. There was an awkward pause, and she glanced back at Rick for a brief moment. "I'm just…going for a smoke."

"Are you sure you're okay?" Glenn asked again, coming further forward.

"Absolutely," she nodded, turning away before he could stop her. "I'll be right back."

Taking her glass of wine with her, Carrie headed straight for the stairs, her high heels clacking against the floor as she quickly descended and disappeared back into the dark shadows of the courtyard. While her footsteps appeared steady and even, Rick listened carefully as she paused for a moment, and judging by what he could make out of her silhouette she was taking a drink from her glass. His concern worsened, and though he wanted to go after her and make sure she was okay, perhaps she needed to be left alone. She might just be taking a moment to herself…but maybe someone needed to check on her.

"I didn't know she smoked," Glenn remarked softly, looking at Rick to share his concern.

"She doesn't," he muttered, the sound of her footsteps starting again and then fading as she left through the courtyard gate.

Behind them, the french doors opened, letting the sound from inside escaped a little. "Hey," Abraham began, looking out at Rick and Glenn. "Rosita said Carrie looked upset. Do you want me to send her out?"

"No, it's okay," Glenn answered. "Rick has it under control."

Getting the hint, Rick handed him his empty glass and began to follow Carrie, glad that he wasn't the only one who thought that she needed someone to check on her. Asking Glenn to check on Judith for him, he headed down the stairs and into the courtyard, quickly walking through the darkness and hoping he didn't fall over anything. There wasn't time to let his eyes adjust, for Carrie could have gone in any direction. Figuring she might be heading home, he stepped through the gate and looked to his right, but couldn't see anything. Still able to hear the click of her heels on the road he knew she was close by, and so turned left instead.

With little moonlight, the shadows from the townhouses cast the road into almost pitch darkness, but Rick quickly came to see her silhouette down the road ahead of him. She had stopped in the middle of the road, and he could see the shadows moving as she raised her glass of wine to her lips and took another long drink. Trying to be considerate, just incase she really did want to be alone, he too slowed to a stop and waited. He watched the way her shoulders shook, listening to her breaths shudder as she ran her hand through her hair. Whatever had happened inside had upset her, that much was obvious, and he knew that whatever he tried to say would be of little comfort. Suspecting that it was the naive insensitivity of the Alexandrian's that had upset her, he understood the vast culture shock was experiencing. Words were not going to comfort her…only time would make it easier. Despite this knowledge, he stayed and waited, wanting to be there just in case she wanted whatever useless comfort he could offer.

In the darkness he watched as she slowly turned around to face him, looking at him for a long moment as she appeared to struggle for words. In one hand she held her glass of wine, but the other she raised in exasperation as though she was going to say something before simply giving up. Waiting for her to say something, he wished she didn't have to be going through this, that there was some magical way he could fast forward her by two weeks. She'd had enough problems, she didn't need these people causing even more.

Without warning she was suddenly marching right towards him, her heels loudly echoing with each purposeful step she took. Knowing what she wanted from him, and only too happy to give that to her, he eagerly welcomed her when she clenched her hand in his shirt. When she seized him in a hard kiss he kissed her back eagerly, matching the tone and sense of need. It was automatic for his hands to drift to her waist, for him to step closer and hold her tightly, understanding what she was seeking. She'd never kissed him like this, with the desperation and forcefulness she was showing now, and it was electrifying. He could feel the tension in her body, the restless energy she was trying to rid herself of. Moaning sensually, she released his shirt and slid her hand down his chest and around to his back, pulling the shirt from the back of his trousers.

"Carrie," he sighed, breaking their kiss. When she tried to kiss him again he was forced to turn away slightly, trying to catch his breath.

Gently kissing her cheek, he slowly rubbed his hands over her waist, trying to slow her down a little. He soothed her stress as best he could, but he batted her hand away from his lower back, knowing she was trying to start something they couldn't do right now…not in the middle of the dark, cold road anyway. A few moments later he felt her begin to settle, releasing a long sigh as she rested her head against his shoulder. They stood close for a few moments, Rick slowly rubbing his hands over her waist as they both calmed.

Enjoying the feeling of her body against his, of the quiet moment they shared amongst the chaos of the party inside, Rick felt himself relaxing. He thought about the way he'd been feeling all day, about the frustration and bad mood he had only just managed to keep at bay…it was all forgotten now, and it took this moment for him to realise what he had been needing. He and Carrie…this was the purpose they served for one another, a form of stress relief, a way to escape the world. All day he had known he needed something, he just couldn't quite put his finger on it.

"Are you okay?" he asked softly, pressing a kiss to the top of her forehead.

"Yeah," she replied. A moment later she straightened up and stepped away from him, awkwardly clearing her throat. "Sorry, I-"

Catching her as she stepped back, Rick swept a light kiss across her lips, reassuring her. It seemed to be the right thing to do, for the simple motion elicited a long sigh from her.

"I spilt the…" she started, trailing off as she gestured to his forearm. "Sorry."

Glancing down, he noticed a wet patch on his forearm, realising she had spilt a little of her wine on him. Not caring, he slid his hand into her too short hair and tilted her head back up to him. Though he had tried to slow her down, to make her take a breath, he didn't want to stop. Kissing her properly, he lightly brushed his tongue over her top lip, tasting the offending wine she had spilt.

They stayed as they were for a short while, sharing light kisses and doing what they did best together…hiding from the world.


	10. Chapter 10

Carrie had grown to learn how comforting Rick's embrace could be, and so she took the time to enjoy it. His arms were strong and reassuring around her, his lips light and gentle as he coaxed her to kiss him. Sharing a few moments alone, he brushed aside her various apologies as his hands rubbed the back of her waist, sending delightful shivers up and down her spine. Thinking of everything she had just escaped from, of the pain and frustration she was trying to silence with alcohol, she once again tried to deepen their kiss, needing the passion and urgency to soothe the chaotic emotions inside her. But he refused to let her, pulling away each time she tried, only to return with that painfully gentle kiss. He won of course…while he was there she'd take anything she could from him, and it seemed he knew better than she what was needed.

As the moments passed, the two of them simply enjoying their privacy, Carrie felt herself settling down, her state of fight or flight coming to an end. Breaking their kiss, Rick pulled back and peered at her in the dim light, their eyes having adjusted to the darkness enough to see one another. He scrutinised her before tenderly brushing her hair off her face, smoothing it behind her ear as a flash of annoyance crossed his face. There wasn't time to question this however.

"Are you okay?"

Hesitating, she considered her answer. "Yes…I am now."

"Good," he said whispered, kissing the top of her forehead and holding his lips there. Her heart swelled at this motion…did he had any idea how intimate that gesture was? "Let's sit."

Letting him lead her over to the back of the infirmary, he held her glass of wine for her while she sat down, forced to hike up her slim fitting skirt as she did so. Thanking him, she took back her glass of wine while he sat down beside her.

"So…you don't smoke," he muttered, having seen through her lie.

"No. But I'm seriously considering taking it up."

Leaning back against the wall he mimicked her position, his forearms resting on the top of his knees. Despite what had brought them out here, they sat in a comfortable silence and enjoyed the peace. The road behind the townhouses was cast in an ethereal glow, the bright lights from Deanna's townhouse shining out upon them. But Carrie and Rick's place by the infirmary's garage allowed them to hide in the shadows, invisible to anyone who might be looking out the windows.

There was just enough light for her to see his face, noting the patient expression she had become rather familiar with. He'd been wearing it a lot that night, particularly when talking to the Alexandrians…she wondered when exactly he would run out of patience next, and who would suffer the fall out when he did. Thinking on this, she raised her glass to her lips, letting the expensive wine soothe her stress as much as Rick was. Wondering if he needed it too, she held the glass out to him, gently nudging him when he didn't immediately notice. He hesitated before taking it, making her wonder if he even liked white wine. When they'd been drinking together at the prison it had been red wine they enjoyed.

"What is it?" he asked, taking the glass.

"A dry Pinot Grigio."

He took a sip. "It's nice," he remarked, taking another.

"It better be…it used to be worth almost a thousand dollars a bottle."

Coughing as he swallowed, Rick looked at the glass of wine in surprise before shaking his head. "Never thought I'd drink something like that," he muttered, passing it back to her. "That used to be a mortgage payment for me."

Carrie chuckled…a thousand dollars for her used to be a nice pair of shoes, but she chose to keep that to herself. As she took the glass back and rested her forearms back on her knees, she was surprised when Rick sighed and shifted closer to her, not trying to be subtle about it either. As though it was completely natural for him to do, he sat against her side and draped his hand over the top of her leg. He let it rest there as he looked up at the townhouses above, and though she felt her heart speeding up at his touch, she simultaneously relaxed at the same time. It was nice having him sit with her like this, his hand on her leg feeling intimate, but not in a sexual way.

"We haven't really…had a chance to talk," he began gently, looking at her. "Not since we got back."

She nodded in agreement. Since their return from the supply run, the opportunities for the two of them to hold a conversation were limited, let alone a private conversation. They'd been so busy unpacking the supplies, getting around to the day to day activities and then Judith's birthday, this was the first opportunity they had to be alone for more than a few minutes.

"So," he started. "Is this party as bad as you thought it would be?"

Carrie smiled. Now that the ice was broken, she knew she could find the words she was seeking. "Worse. There's a crazy person here, and she looks just like me."

Rick laughed under his breath at this, his hand absentmindedly rubbing the top of her leg.

"I'm serious," she insisted. "They're going to think I'm crazy."

"I hate to break it to you," he said, trying not to smile. He leant over a little and whispered the next part as though he was sharing a secret. "They already think you're crazy."

Groaning dramatically, Carrie sighed as she took another sip of wine, quickly following it with another. When he gestured for the glass she willingly passed it over, though she did raise her eyebrows when he promptly drank the last third of the wine in one go. Clearing his throat, he leant forward and carefully placed the empty glass on the road where they wouldn't knock it over. When he sat back and returned his hand around her leg, she got the feeling he did that not because he wanted it, but to stop her drinking any more.

"So, what was your first mistake tonight?" he enquired, his tone indicating that he knew where she was coming from, that he understood what she was feeling right now.

"Turning up."

"Not true. It's never a mistake to turn up for free food."

She laughed softly, appreciating his efforts to make her laugh. "Alright…in hindsight, opening my mouth and talking doesn't seem like such a good idea."

"Oh?"

"Yeah. Once I did, I just…" she trailed off, unsure of how to explain. She thought back to the things she had said, and why. "I knew I was saying the wrong thing, that they would think I was unhinged or something…but I said it anyway. It was like I wanted them to look at me the way they did."

Rick just nodded, listening attentively.

"It was embarrassing," she muttered, feeing ashamed. "God, the way they looked at me…I wanted them to like me."

"Of course you did."

"Well, I screwed that up." Clearing her throat, she brushed her hair behind her ears, looking at him. "I kept thinking that I just needed to find common ground with them, something to talk about that didn't make me want to claw my own eyes out."

Rick looked surprised by this, and he titled his head to the side. "Oh? You weren't interested in the January book club scandal?"

Like before, his comment had her laughing out loud, the action giving her the physical release she needed. "I heard about that. A tantrum over a book? My God."

"They were talking about it at the last party too. I couldn't believe they actually thought it was a problem."

"What were we doing in January?" Carrie began thoughtfully. "We were all on foot, freezing cold. Sleeping in dirt, wondering when our next meal would be. And they were here, getting all upset over a slow reader."

Nodding in agreement, Rick sighed as he moved his hand further around her leg. She felt tingles radiating from his touch, but given his focus on the conversation, she suspected he wasn't doing this consciously.

"You said you wanted common ground?" he asked, continuing when she nodded. "You're not going to find it with them…you've seen too much."

"I know," she said sadly.

"Keep trying," he encouraged, much to her surprise. "It will happen eventually."

"Really?"

"Yes," he nodded. "They're living in their own world right now, but sooner or later they're going to have to face it. They'll catch up to us, even if we have to force them."

"How would we force them?"

"By showing them the real world. Glenn and I were just talking about it. One day, the world is going to come crashing in on this place. We're trying to prepare them for that. When that all happens, if they're prepared for it…they'll come out the other side, and they'll understand."

"I hope so," she said sadly, the disappointment still weighing her down.

"Me too," he agreed with a heavy sigh. He looked at her kindly, his hand on the inside of her leg gently squeezing until she returned his gaze. "I'm going to need your help with that."

"With what?"

"Getting these people on board, getting them prepared."

She scoffed. "I don't know how much help I'll be now. I think I kind of blew it in there."

Rick shook his head, showing his belief in her. "No. Aside from the fact that Deanna loves you, you have a way of growing on people. Even if you do make a bad first impression."

Recalling the first impression she made on him, she smiled to herself, grateful for his confidence in her. "Good to know…what do you need me to do?"

He shrugged, perhaps not having thought that far ahead. "Make friends…win people over. I know how they perceive me. Having a friendly face like yours in my corner will help."

"Okay," she said quietly, their conversation lapsing for a few moments. "How long does it take for this feeling to pass?" she finally asked.

"What? The feeling that you're the only sane one in a nut house?" he questioned seriously. "I'll let you know if it passes for me."

Chuckling, Carrie closed her eyes and gave a long sigh, resting her head on Rick's shoulder for a few moments. When she opened her eyes she tipped her head back and looked at him with a tentative smile. Knowing what she wanted, and the topic she needed to broach in order to get it, she raised her head and then placed her hand above his knee, doing to same thing to him that he was doing to her.

"Have you been avoiding me tonight?"

His expression was apologetic when he answered. "Yes."

"Why?"

"Honestly?" he started, looking up at the townhouse when he continued. "I was starting to worry I'd pitch a tent right there in the living room."

Carrie frowned, not understanding. "How could you possibly pitch a…Oh," she rolled her eyes, picking up on his euphemism.

"What I meant, was," he started, grinning at her. "I noticed how nice you look."

"Thank you. So, you like my hair cut then?"

Tilting his head back, her peered at her in surprise. "You cut your hair?" he asked, smiling when she rolled her eyes. "Yes, I like your hair cut."

"Liar," she muttered, remembering him telling her not to cut it a while back. Grateful for him, for his efforts to help her get through her momentary self doubt, she started rubbing his knee as she starting thinking out loud. "The other day after what happened at Franklin? When I told you I didn't want to alienate myself from the people here?"

He nodded, indicating he remembered. "Good job on that, by the way."

She smiled, but continued. "You told me that you were already alienated from them, and that all you did was walk through the gates."

"Yes."

"Well, at the time, I thought I understood. But I didn't," she confessed apologetically. "I'm sorry."

"Do you understand now?"

"Yes. Or at least I'm starting to."

"Good. That's all you need."

"Understanding?"

"Yes. Understanding the differences between us and them means we can handle them. I just…" he trailed off, thinking. "I just hope they're willing to meet us half way."

"I hope that too."

Shivering with the cold, she began moving her hand further up his leg, mimicking the path his own had taken on hers. This movement seemed to illuminate him to exactly what he had been doing, to exactly how close to the peak of her legs his hand rested. When he realised, he didn't move it away. There was a long moment when the two of them simply looked at each other in the dim light, both knowing how badly Carrie wanted what they were thinking about, and how willing he was to give it to her.

She didn't have to move far, their entwined arms having already brought them close enough to each other. Starting slowly, she brushed her lips across his, feeling the weight of that awful night begin to ease when he kissed her back. Like their last one, the kiss was sweet and gentle, a way for him to bring her solace when she needed it. This was what they gave each other…a source of comfort, a source of relief…they could use each other to hide from the world whenever they felt the need to bury their heads in the sand for a few moments. Grateful that she had him, she brushed her tongue against his lips and coaxed him to open them for her.

Just as she had hoped, their kiss began to deepen now, the chaotic emotions inside her suddenly developing into restless energy. She suddenly needed more of him, knowing that having everything would ease the heaviness of her heart, even if just for a little while. Leaning closer, she reached her free hand into his hair and clenched it, holding him still as she boldly sucked on his tongue. The erotic groan he made was surprisingly loud, and she felt him shudder against her. Emboldened, he pushed her skirt up and then pressed his hand against the peak of her legs, and this time it was her turn to groan.

She broke away with a gasp, panting for breath as the most brilliant idea came to her. "What are the chances that you have a condom with you?" She knew exactly what she wanted right now, how she could exert the restless energy that was building inside of her. It wasn't a stretch to presume he was thinking the same thing, particularly given what her hand could feel when she placed it on the front of his trousers.

"Zero," he groaned, hastily pushing her hand away from him. "Y-you want-"

"Yes," she nodded, cutting him off. "Let's go home," she suggested hopefully, her voice muffled as she kissed him again.

"No, we can't."

Despite his refusal, Rick moved closer to her, turning his body more towards hers as they kissed. Swapping his hands, he put one around her waist and used it to hold her close to him, the other going back between her legs. She knew what he was getting at, and she knew she'd have to settle for that much. If he refused her suggestion that they ditch the party and go home together, it wasn't likely he'd be convinced otherwise, and she knew better than to waste her breath trying. Resting her forehead against his she let him do as he pleased, opening her legs just a little more as he slipped his hand inside her underwear now. Her breaths shuddered when she felt his fingers slipping inside her, a heady moan rumbling from the base of her throat.

"You have to be quiet," he told her, sealing his lips over hers.

His kiss went some way to helping her with this, but only a little. Gritting her teeth, Carrie closed her eyes and rested her head against his shoulder, beginning to kiss his neck. They were halfway down the block from the townhouse and shrouded in darkness, but still they could be caught by anyone who came looking for them. Given that there was no reasonable explanation for why his hand was inside her underwear, Carrie stayed quiet and simply enjoyed his ministrations, heading his warning to not leave a mark on his neck. She listened to his heavy breaths, feeling them against her as he once again pushed her hand away from the front of his trousers. The desire to make him feel as good as he made her came naturally, making his refusal frustrating. But his refusal was clear, and so she relaxed with her head against his shoulder, her hand joining his to remind and show him where to focus his attention.

A muffled gasp slipped through her lips when she came, her hips automatically trying to squirm away from him, but his arm around her waist held her still. Roughly pressing her lips back against his she kissed him deeply, using him to help stifle the stuttered groans that managed to slip out. As she began to settle so too did his hand, his fingers slowing to a stop inside her as he let her catch her breath. Giving a long sigh, Carrie smiled as she put her head back against the wall, laughing breathlessly. Rick echoed this laugh, pressing a sweet kiss to the corner of her mouth. Slowly taking his fingers out of her, he stroked her before replacing her underwear, his palm firmly cupping her. This final pressure made her hips lurch forward, her smile widening before she relaxed again. Enjoying the glow for a few moments, she turned to him for a kiss when she managed to get her head together. It was as gentle and sweet as when they had started, but it lacked the urgency that had been growing inside of her.

"Better?" he enquired.

Carrie nodded, stroking his smooth jaw. "Thank you," she whispered, trying not to laugh at the stupid look of pride he had on his face. "I needed that."

"I could tell."

Sweeping him into another kiss, she tried to draw out the moment for as long as possible. "Why don't you want-"

"I do," he assured her, knowing what she was referring to. "But Deanna's making a speech soon."

"Oh," she muttered, understanding. "We need to go then?"

"In a minute," he shook his head, though he started to pull her skirt back down her legs for her, feeling the gooseflesh across her skin.

They sat there in comfortable silence, enjoying one another's embrace for a minute or so, her head resting against his shoulder. Reflecting on everything that had happened, Carrie tried to remember what she had been so upset about, the embarrassment and disappointment feeling less awful now. Whether it was simply Rick's company or the fantastic things he could do with one hand, she didn't know…all she knew was that it was him, for which she was grateful. His hand was resting innocently on her knee now, and she placed hers over it, comparing them to one another. Larger than hers, his fingers were long and slender, and she knew them to be capable of both brutality and tenderness, a sharp contrast. Tracing her fingertips over his knuckles, she gently felt the bumps and ridges, picking up on a couple of lines that she thought might be scars.

Just as she was reminding herself to take a proper look at them in the light, he turned his hand over and held hers, entwining their fingers with one another. Watching him do that, she couldn't help but feel that despite its innocence, it was a rather intimate gesture. Just as she had done to him, he took the time to touch her hand at leisure, his fingers stroking her palm and sending shivers up her arm. Before she knew it they were kissing again, taking their time about it. Rick's other hand reached for her hair, but rather than clench it he stroked his hand over the side of her head, getting to know the way her hair felt now that it had been cut. He toyed with it as they kissed, rubbing the shortened ends between his finger tips.

"Why so short?" he enquired. Their kiss ending, he trailed his fingers down the side of her neck and across her collarbone, eliciting the shiver he knew would create. They were getting to know one another quite well, and she looked forward to learning even more.

"This is how I always wore it," she told him. "I don't like it long."

He kissed her again, though this one was shorter. "Do you want me to buy us some time tonight?"

She quirked an eyebrow at this, hoping he meant what she thought he did. "Alone?" When he responded with a nod, she replied instantly. "Yes."

"It will have to be after Deanna speaks," he mused, thinking as he glanced at his watch. "I'll take Judith home and put her to bed, and I'll give Carl a late curfew."

"He'll stay out? Won't he get bored at an adult's party?"

"He'll stay so long as he thinks I'd rather he not," he assured her.

"Reverse psychology?"

"That's right…best thing for teenagers."

"Thank you," she whispered, sealing it with a brief kiss.

He nodded, understanding where her appreciation stemmed from. Stroking her hair again, he looked at her very seriously, and she could tell he meant what he said next. "You're not the only one who needs this."

They kissed yet again, and though she could feel the urgency that Rick had been hiding until now, Carrie couldn't let him express too much. She could hear footsteps coming, and so while she indulged his kiss momentarily, she quickly broke it off and then shifted away from him, that motion enough to alert him to their surroundings. Taking their hands back from one another and maintaining platonic body language, they looked towards the courtyard where they could see shadows moving. A silhouette appeared at the gate, lit up from behind by the light coming from the townhouse. A low whistle echoed down the road, reminding her of how those on watch used to communicate on the supply run. As she thought he might, Rick returned the low whistle to indicate that he was there within ear shot.

"C'mon," Daryl called out impatiently. "They're waiting for yah."

Leaving it at that, Daryl's silhouette disappeared, his message prompting a long sigh from Rick. He slowly pushed himself to his feet and held out his hand to Carrie, steadying her as she too got up. "You alright?" he enquired, holding her hand as she swayed a little.

"Yes," she assured him, taking a deep breath. The amount of wine she had consumed must be getting to her, for her head now felt pleasantly light.

"Well no more of this," he said, still holding her hand as he picked up the empty wine glass from in front of them.

Although he phrased this as an instruction, Carrie knew that he understood he had no right to tell her what to do, that truthfully it was really more of a request…and a fair one at that. She knew how cautious he felt about being with her, about wanting sex to be an equal exchange of power and vulnerability, and why it needed to be that way. Starting towards the courtyard, he held her hand for the first few steps until he could see she was steady on her feet.

"I'll switch to water," she muttered, taking a few deep breaths as they slowly walked up the road. "I thought you said you weren't drinking tonight?" she queried. Not only had he downed a third of her wine, she'd seen him putting away a few glasses of whisky throughout the evening.

"I wasn't going to," he admitted. "I might switch to water too."

Entering the courtyard, Carrie looked up at the first floor of the townhouse in apprehension, glad that there was still no one on the terrace. Taking advantage of the better light, she and Rick looked over one another, fixing their clothing while he rubbed smears of red lipstick from around his mouth. Checking for makeup on his collar and neck, she told him to straighten his hair before giving him a nod of approval, receiving the same in return. Though there was no more reason to delay, Carrie found herself lingering a little more, straightening her skirt and checking that her blouse was properly tucked in.

"Just go in there, and act like nothing happened," Rick told her, knowing that she was stalling. "They like pretending. Trust me, they'll do the same."

"Okay," she muttered, once again beginning to feel the shame and embarrassment from earlier. Her time with Rick was over for now…she couldn't hide from the world anymore. "I don't have much of a choice."

Rick caught her hand as she said this, making her stop and look at him. "You do have a choice," he told her softly. "You don't have to stay if you don't want to."

Though she was grateful to him for giving her an out, Carrie knew that wasn't the choice she really wanted to make. If only the thought of going back in there and facing those people wasn't so hard. "Thanks," she sincerely, giving a soft sigh. "Let's just get this over with, and then get out of here."

He held her hand a moment longer before reluctantly letting it go, returning to their usual facade of platonic friendship. Together they climbed the stairs and headed across the terrace, Rick putting the empty wine glass on the table as they passed. Entering the townhouse, Carrie braced herself for the inevitable glances in her direction, making sure she smiled and looked at ease in spite of everything. Just as he had told her, it seemed the Alexandrian's who were privy to her poor choice of words were happiest pretending nothing happened, although she had little doubt that they weren't the only ones who knew. She imagined the whispers that had spread like through the crowd like wildfire, dreading the possibility of what had been said. Some time ago she wouldn't have cared what people thought of her…it was a little different now.

Similar to what he had done on her first morning when they went to start with the supplies, Rick disappeared into the crowd, leaving her completely on her own. Cursing this bad habit, she took a deep breath as she headed over to Rosita, Abraham and Tara who stood at the very back, latching on to their familiar faces. As she came over they looked up and saw her approach, knowing smiles crossing their faces.

"Well done," Rosita hissed at her, trying to hide her smile.

"Sorry?" she questioned in alarm. What exactly were they praising her for?

"You lasted an hour and a half before making a scene," Tara smiled, nudging her with her elbow. "You can't beat Sasha though. She only made it half an hour, and everyone heard."

Carrie cringed…it had indeed spread like wildfire. "Where is Sasha?"

"She made an appearance, but she's gone back on watch now."

"Was everyone talking about me?" she asked self-consciously, knowing Tara would tell her the truth.

"Only a little," she said, shrugging her shoulders.

Abraham cleared his throat and leaned closer. "What she means is, a lot."

"Come on, don't worry about them," Tara assured her, glaring at Abraham.

"I'm trying not to."

"Rick talked you down?" Tara asked, gesturing across the room.

Following her indication, Carrie looked up and watched as Rick made his way back through the crowd, stopping to talk to Carol who had Judith on her hip. Judith looked exhausted, her face pink and screwed up, her thumb in her mouth as she rested her head on Carol's shoulder. Though she didn't like to see her that way, Carrie couldn't help but see this as an advantage…it gave Rick a good excuse to take her home and put her to bed, for them to be alone together.

"Yeah, he did."

"Deanna has the supplies list ready," Rick said when he came back, but he was looking to Abraham.

Abraham gave a gruff sigh, downing the last of his beer and putting the bottle aside. "That's my cue. She'll expect you to speak as well."

"God help me," he muttered darkly, handing Carrie a red plastic cup. "Drink up."

"Thanks," she frowned, peering into the cup and realising it was only water. "I don't think I've ever had water in one of these."

This elicited a smile from Rick, he too sipping at his own. "Same here…it's been a while since my last game of beer pong."

Tara gasped. "They have a ping pong table in the garage," she began, looking between Carrie and Rosita. "Beer pong later? Please?"

"Sure," she lied, hoping Rick was able to come through on his promise the buy them time alone. She was never really any good at beer pong anyway.

A hush gently swept over the room, conversations and laughter fading as Reg started calling everyone to attention. It was difficult to hear what he said, but at the back of the room there was little she could do about this. Moving into a slightly better spot, she stood in between Rick and Tara as they looked into the corner of the dining room where everyone seemed to be paying the most attention. Seeing the top of Abraham's head through the crowd, she sipped at her water and paid attention, figuring that he too was going to be speaking. Deanna climbed up onto a chair and came into view, smiling and greeting everyone as the low buzz from the built in ceiling speakers began to sound.

Unexpectedly, Carrie felt something brushing her lower back, and when she looked to her right her eyes widened to see that it was Rick. The lack of space necessitated that they all stand close together, Rick taking advantage of this by placing his hand on her lower back. It rested there innocently, the weight of it there to remind her of his presence, of his support. While she appreciated it, the gesture didn't exactly help her relax, particularly when she could feel his fingertips moving ever so gently across the back of her skirt. Thankfully the only person who might be able to see what he was doing was Tara, and she trusted that Rick had ensured Carl was not nearby.

Not trusting her ability to keep her face straight, Carrie didn't risk looking up at him. Instead she looked around at the rest of the room, amused to see the way so many people were crammed in there. While before everyone had been spread out through the hallway, kitchen and living areas, everyone was clamouring to get a good view of the person who was speaking.

"Abraham's beard is looking top notch tonight," Tara commented. "It's quite the specimen."

Rosita chuckled. "He's using the beard trimmer I got him from Walmart. He figured out the hard way that you shouldn't use it on your pubes."

Hearing Deanna's voice filled the room, the four of them were forced to stifle their laughter, Carrie glancing up to see Rick's amused expression before looking to the front again. Standing on the chair at the end of the room, Deanna adjusted the microphone stand and then spoke, her voice coming through the speakers in the ceiling.

"Can everyone hear me well? It's too loud?" she worried, indicating to Aidan to lower the volume a little. She looked around at everyone, a proud smile growing on her face as she observed her community. "My, my, Tobin. I never realised you have such a good view from up here."

Still conscious of what happened earlier, Carrie was glad that everyone's attention was focused on Deanna and not on her. From her position at the back of the room she looked around at the residents, seeing the back of Barbara and Shelly's heads. Thinking about what Rick had asked of her earlier, that she make friends and start winning people over, she wondered if she was capable of doing that, if she had it in her. Trying not to dwell on that, she reminded herself that she only had a little while more of the evening to get through…it helped that she now had something to look forward to.

"It's always such a pleasure for the whole community to come together like this," Deanna began sincerely. "Although, at the rate we're growing we're going to need to relocate all further parties to the church."

"Church, slash games room, slash movie theatre, slash night club," Eugene called out obnoxiously, earning a rousing chorus of agreement.

Chuckling, Deanna continued speaking. "I'll not waste time with too many pleasantries, rather I'll get straight to the point. Quite a few weeks ago now, Glenn, Noah and Tara turned up on our doorstep with a bottle of Jim Beam and the offer of a truce with Aidan. The shenanigans that lot got up to that evening…well…"

"A truce about what?" Carrie whispered to Rick, pleased that her high heels brought her to exactly his height.

"Glenn punched Aidan at the end of their first run."

Carrie blew out a low whistle of admiration. "First Aidan, then Nicholas. He's got the set." Glancing at him, she was glad to see the wry smile this brought to Rick's face, feeling the way his hand moved on her lower back.

"In the midst of a raging hangover," Deanna continued. "Aidan told me his plans for the next supply run…that he wanted to embark on a journey that would take him all the way down to west Georgia. As his mother, to say that I was horrified would be quite the understatement."

An amused laugh grew and then faded, making Carrie smile. She'd heard how the plans for the supply run had come together, but Deanna had a way of speaking that made everyone listen intently, as though they were hearing stories of a wild adventure for the very first time.

"The next day, Glenn told me it was possible…and I was still horrified!" she said dramatically, her voice evening out when she next spoke. "But I was also hopeful. Two days later when Rick came to me and told me that he could make it happen…I wasn't just hopeful. I was honoured. From the first moment I spoke to Rick, when I met his group, I knew that they were something special, that they were people Alexandria needed very much. Within days they had become part of our community, taking on jobs and responsibilities…promising to serve and protect. But never did I expect that barely two weeks after living hand to mouth out on the road, barely surviving, Rick's group were willing to brave it all again…for people they barely knew."

There was silence around the room, the only sound coming from the microwave in the kitchen where Carol was heating up a bottle for Judith. She was grumbling unhappily, a low whine that caught Rick's attention for a moment.

"For people they barely knew, Rick and his group were willing to risk their lives just to provide for us. All the while knowing that they may not return, they left their loved ones behind and returned to the world that had taken almost everything from them. For this, we are in their debt…and we are grateful. To Rick and his group," Deanna toasted, holding up her wine glass.

Echoing the toast, the Alexandrian's raised their glasses and drank, a few murmurs breaking out until Deanna spoke again.

"And to Aidan, Nicholas, Aaron and Tobin…for showing their trust in people who until now, were strangers to them."

Echoing the toast again, Carrie felt Rick's fingertips on her back pressing a little, indicating his distaste for toasting two certain people who had just been mentioned. She wished she could tell him to behave, to give him the wry smile indicating that while she understood his frustration, he needed to reign it in. Tonight was not the time, although for her it was easier to forgive…after everything he had been through, Carrie suspected Rick didn't have as much in him anymore.

"The success of the supply run is astounding," Deanna declared proudly, pausing when applause broke out. "Not only have our supply runners brought back an abundance of food, medicine, weapons, ammunition and general supplies, they've brought back perhaps the one thing that is most important to us here…another community member. Carrie's arrival is a very welcome surprise, for not only are people the true lifeblood of this community, her contributions to the supply run's success are substantial. Aside from her demonstration of good character and hard work, Carrie brought about her own unique set of skills, expertise and experience to the supply run. It was these skills, expertise and experience that helped bring our families home to us here, particularly on one dark night when things could have gone so terribly wrong.

"The group stopped to make camp, settling in for the night without realising that a little further down the road was an enormous herd of Roamers, possibly in the thousands." Searching for her in the crowd, Deanna found Carrie where she stood at the back, locking eyes and speaking directly to her. "I've been told that without doubt that it was your skills and experience that led our people to safety…that led your people to safety. For that, we are also in your debt. To Carrie."

"To Carrie," the Alexandrian's echoed, raising their glasses and drinking once again.

"Growth for the future has been in the works for a very long time…and it starts now. First thing tomorrow morning, Tobin and his construction crew will be back at work, taking on our most ambitious two-stage expansion to date. The run crew will be planning their next targets, while Rick's family will be managing the security and safety of our community. Our garden will also be kicked up a notch, largely thanks to the abundance of plants from the prison, and Rick and Maggie's expertise in this area. One day, Alexandria will be a thriving community…with commerce, with manufacturing, industry…we are the ones who will build that. Together."

She paused for a moment, letting her words sink in. It was clear that she had the focus of everyone in the room, her passionate belief capturing their attention.

"There is not one person in this room, who at one stage or another has thought that goal to be unachievable, that it is nothing more than a pie in the sky, myself included. But if that's the case…it's going to be the damn finest pie in the sky I've ever tasted."

Unable to help herself, Carrie smiled and gave a short laugh along with everyone else, even Rick going to the effort. With her speech concluded, Deanna stepped down from the chair and handed the microphone to Abraham, although he chose to forgo the chair. Able to see him over the rest of the crowd, she could tell that he was a little nervous to be speaking on front of everyone, though he had no trouble commanding their attention just as he had on the supply run. As always, he spoke briskly and utilised his usual verbal creativity.

"I'd like to start with an apology," Abraham began boldly, surprising everyone with his serious and sombre tone. "An apology to Rick."

There was a slight murmur around the room, heads turning to look at him in confusion. Doing the same, Carrie tried to remember what Abraham had apparently done that required an apology.

"From the bottom of my heart, I sincerely apologise for helping Carl expand his vocabulary of curse words."

An amused laugh swept across the room, Abraham's apology making Rick roll his eyes in exasperation. Carrie too laughed, remembering the way Rick's jaw would twitch every time he heard Abraham swearing in front of Carl…for all the things a father had to worry about, he still worried about his son's language.

"Carl learnt a great deal from me on this supply run, certainly more than Rick expected him to. Anyway, enough of that. I just like to start things off with a bang," he remarked, peering at Rosita in the back of the room. "Isn't that right, baby?"

Rosita groaned, folding her arms in exasperation as another laugh erupted in the room. Still laughing at her expense, Abraham shrugged apologetically before taking a clipboard Deanna passed to him.

"Alright, down to business. Our group of eleven departed Alexandria on February twenty second, and returned as twelve on March fourteenth. That was twenty long days of sitting on our asses in cars, taking turns on watch, setting up camp and then packing it up again…Let me tell you, it's God damned impossible getting the stink of twelve people who haven't showered in weeks out of a car's upholstery."

Carrie's attention wavered, her heart beginning to speed up when she felt Rick's hand on her lower back beginning to move. She held her breath for a moment, trying not to look at him as his fingers flexed on her lower back before boldly moving down. The way his lips were parted indicated to Carrie that he knew exactly what he was doing, noticing the poorly restrained smile he had on his face as he moved his hand right down onto her ass. Letting out the breath she had been holding, she enjoyed the way the light weight of his hand sent a shiver up her spine.

As he moved his hand further down, stroking the curve of her ass and letting his fingertips brush the top of her thigh, Carrie began to regret wearing a such a close fitting skirt…Carol had certainly done a great job of making it fit her figure. Feeling the arousal he had stirred within her only a short while ago, she decided a little return favour was in order, and she just hoped he'd allow her this. Moving her cup of water into her other hand, she inconspicuously lowered her other down to her side, stretching her fingers out and touching the front of his leg. The sharp intake of breath she got indicated that the simple touch was having the desired effect…it was no wonder, particularly given the state he had been in earlier.

"…there were so many supplies it brought a tear to my eye. We spent the afternoon clearing out the bunker, and the following morning we moved on to Walmart where…"

Rick openly shivered when she lightly pressed all her fingers against the front of his thigh, boldly running them up to his hip. She flattened her palm now, and grateful that it was so crowded no one could see what she was doing. The moment she started moving her hand towards the front of his trousers, Rick gave in, taking his hand off her ass and batting hers away. Trying not to smirk, Carrie glanced down, both disappointed and relieved to see that any effect she had on him was not apparent. He was pointedly avoiding her gaze, slipping his hand into his pocket and then shifting his weight as though trying to adjust himself. It took all her self-control not to laugh out loud, focusing instead on the pride she felt for making him that uncomfortable.

"Many of you have spent the last three days sorting, cataloging and organising the metric fuck-tonne of supplies we have brought back," Abraham continued, taking a clipboard with the very long list of supplies that Olivia had been typing up.

Starting to get impatient, Rick looked at Carrie as they listened to Abraham talking, and his expression was a little difficult to read. While at first she figured he was looking at her with the same lust she was feeling for him, it seemed there was something else in his eyes too, something she wasn't quite sure how to put her finger on. She wanted to figure it out, to ask him why he was giving her such a peculiar look, but neither time nor place allowed for that question to be voiced. Thinking of what they might be able to later on, she took a deep breath to try and tide herself over until then, wondering exactly how much time he'd be able to buy them. They'd likely have to settle for a quick screw, but it would be enough to achieve what they wanted. Though she knew the opportunity for them to take their time with each other would be lost upon arrival in Alexandria, she couldn't help but be disappointed.

"…various tinned goods including tuna, salmon, soups, stews, beans, potatoes, chilli and everyone's favourite, spam. Assorted cereal, dried milk, long life milk, pasta, noodles, spreads and condiments, large tubs of dehydrated emergency foods…"

"So when can we go?" Carrie whispered.

Rick's jaw flexed, trying not to look at her. "Not yet."

"…solar powered batteries, assorted camping equipment, sleeping bags, tents, portable stoves, binoculars, lights, assorted shoes and clothing in various sizes…"

For a moment it seemed he was going to reach for her ass again, but perhaps he thought better of it. "Anxious, are you?" he enquired softly.

"…hand sanitiser, antibacterial wash, assorted over the counter medications, four hundred and twelve packs of prescription only medications, forty five bags of saline, assorted cannulas, cords and medical tools, three general observation monitors…"

"Sure," she whispered. "You're good looking, and well hung. Why wouldn't I be?"

While she managed to keep a straight face, Rick's expression twisted into a grimace of some kind, and Carrie could tell he was trying not to smile…thankfully he just came across as being in a sour mood. Knowing it was rather more difficult for him to hide evidence of his arousal, she didn't retaliate when he took his hand out of his pocket and returned it to her ass, choosing to keep her own to herself.

"Firearms of various makes and models, including forty rifles, eight shot guns, thirty one revolvers and forty seven hand guns. Other weapons include five crossbows and assorted bolts, hunting knives and machetes, pepper spray, tactical flashlights, speed loaders, radios, bluetooth headsets, riot armour, kevlar vests…"

"You're speaking next, are you?"

"Yes."

"What are you going to say?"

He looked at her as he answered, appearing to consider her at length. "I'm sure I'll think of something to say."

"…forty two grenades, and the God damned motherlode…three sweet ass RPGs that warmed my stone cold heart." There was an awkward pause, Abraham lowering the clipboard and looking around. "Uhhh…That's all."

A murmur built up slowly around the room before enormous applause broke out, everyone having been listening in sheer astonishment to the full inventory of the supplies that had been brought back. Even those like Carrie who had been on the supply run, who had collected and packed all that stuff had listened in astonishment, taking it all in. The extent of their success had been highly unexpected, most of all to the supply runners themselves. As Abraham turned off the microphone and then looked across the room to Rick, she knew it was his turn to speak next.

"Go on," she smiled, slipping her hand around to pinch Rick's ass. "Get up there."

He raised his eyebrows at her, handing her his empty cup as he walked past and made his way through the crowd. Watching him go, she was keen to hear what he had to say.

Grinning, Tara leant closer to Carrie and whispered, "So, I can see whose head you're not turning."

Grinning on the inside, Carrie maintained as much dignity as she could. "Oh?"

"He wasn't even trying to hide it," she grinned, nudging Carrie with her elbow.

Alarmed by the idea that Tara didn't realise the need for secrecy, Carrie turned to her urgently. "You can't say anything, Tara. Seriously, you can't."

"Chill, it's fine," she assured her, sipping her beer. "I get it. As long as your willing to occasionally share details, we have an understanding."

Unable to help herself, Carrie broke out into a fit of giggles, unable to picture herself sharing details of her sex life. She hadn't done that for years, hadn't sat around with a group of friends and talked about sex…this, like many other things she was slowly encountering, was a welcome change. After letting Rosita in on the topic of their amusement, they reluctantly settled themselves down as Abraham returned to their side. Having another sip of her water, Carrie took a deep breath as Rick reached the corner of the dining room from where he would be speaking, shaking hands with Reg while the room's loud chatter began to settle. She was curious what he had to say, figuring that he'd cover some general thanks about the supply runners…but what else? Unlike Abraham who had appeared a little nervous, Rick seemed unconcerned to be speaking in front of everyone, and he began promptly and without fuss.

"I'd like to start by thanking everyone for the birthday presents Judith received today. I used to think Carl got too many presents as a child, but I think I'll have to re-evaluate that. Many of you made gifts for her by hand, some clothes, blankets, toys, paintings…Bob's even working on a toy chest for her. Carl and I are very grateful, our whole family is. So thank you."

There was a short pause, the community breaking out into cheerful murmurs as they discussed the gifts Judith had received, people glancing into the kitchen where Carol was presently feeing Judith a bottle.

"Speaking of my family, I'd also like to thank those of mine who stayed behind while people they loved went on the supply run. In particular, I'd like to thank Carol for looking after Judith for me. I've always said this, but Carol is the one who runs our family…not much happens without her knowing, without her overseeing it, and I'm grateful to her for taking care of my daughter…and not just the last three weeks." As light murmurs of approval and agreement broke out, Rick paused, but only for a moment. "I guess that brings us to the supply run. I know Abraham touched on it briefly, but I'd like to thank everyone who came on this supply run. What we achieved is incredible, and our success comes down to us, to how we worked together. We had more than our share of problems and disagreements, but in hindsight I can see that we had more good days than bad days. When you're out there on the road, that's pretty damn rare."

Another pause was necessary now, loud cheers and applause breaking out. Rick waited patiently, amused by the loud cheers and whistles that seemed to be coming from Noah and Eugene.

"Good days aside, the supply run ran us into quite a few problems, only half which were caused by Walkers. My group have known for some time that although Walkers are definitely a threat to us, they're not our biggest threat. Like the rest of us did, I think Aidan, Nicholas and Tobin have learnt that the hard way on this supply run. Our biggest problems on the supply run were caused by people…by other groups. We've learnt that there is a large community of survivors based in Ohio, a community larger than ours that has greater means and organisation.

"These people are very dangerous. We ran into them on three occasions, and every time it turned very ugly. The fact is, there will always be people out there surviving, people who are desperate and have very little to lose…that means they're a danger to us. People like that won't hesitate to take what we have here in Alexandria, and they'll do it by any means necessary. For that reason, my group will be working on securing this place from the outside in. We're going to prepare ourselves for the likely event that we're one day attacked."

Rick seemed to pause again, letting the weight of what he had said sink in. Casting her eyes around the room, Carrie noted that although no one gave visible protest to what he was saying, she could sense their skepticism. They weren't concerned…if they were, they'd be showing that through their body language, they'd look tense and uncomfortable. In fact, Carrie would have gone as far as to say that they looked bored by what Rick had to say. Looking back to him, she could tell he sensed the same.

"There are a lot of things you can do to start protecting yourselves, things that my group will help you with," he started to explain, his voice authoritative, but not excessively. "With Deanna's blessing, everyone will learn how to safely handle a firearm, the children too. We'll be making emergency bags that will need to go in every house, and when we've got them prepared, we're going to start making runs out to safe houses so that everyone knows where they are.

"I know this feels excessive to you, but there's not one person in my group who would agree with you. Deanna allowed Aaron to bring my group here for this reason, to protect this place, but we can't do it on our own. Ultimately, we're responsible for our own safety, for our family's safety, because when something goes wrong, and it will, my group won't be able to protect everyone. When things go wrong, it will come to the fact that how you live is how you die. It's a choice you make now, and it's a choice that I'm going to help you with." Again, Rick paused, letting that sink in before he continued. "Deanna wants this place to be a thriving community one day. Her job is to lead you there, to make it happen…my job is to make sure there are people left for her.

"I'll finish up now, but I'd like to take this opportunity to properly welcome Carrie to Alexandria. Deanna was right when she said that people are the lifeblood of this community. We're incredibly lucky to have Carrie here with us…so, to Carrie."

"To Carrie," the group echoed, toasting her again while some looked around at her.

"I, uhh…" Rick began, trailing off before speaking again. "I've been thinking about something Carrie said to me tonight…about not having a choice."

Listening to this, Carrie felt her breath catch in her throat…where was he going with this?

"Even though we've had places to call our own before, my family have lived on the road more times than we'd like, and that teaches you a lot about choices. Until now, Carrie hasn't had the opportunity to live in safety the way I did, and what that meant for her was that her choices were limited. When you've got nothing except a body that's slowly dying, the only choice you have is whether or not you force yourself to keep going. The other choices that we take for granted? They're made for you. What you eat and drink, when you sleep, that's if you sleep at all…you don't get that choice any more."

Unlike earlier, it was clear now that Rick had everyone's attention, that the whole room was eagerly awaiting what he said next, hanging onto his every word. The same was true for Carrie, whose heart was pounding and hands were shaking. Everything Rick said was true. It was something only a person with his experience would be able to articulate, something only he would be able to understand. She'd never quite thought of her life after the outbreak as a series of choices, choices that became more and more limited until you had only one…give up or keep going. Rick understood that. He'd felt that before, he'd pushed through it in the same way she had. Taking a deep breath, Carrie braced herself when Rick looked to the very back of the room and held her gaze, and when he spoke next she could feel him speaking directly to her, his tone sincere and his words profound.

"Carrie, three weeks ago when we met, you and I were faced with a choice…the kind of choice that would change a lot of things. My choice was whether or not I was going to risk helping a stranger…yours was whether or not you could trust enough to accept that help. I think I speak for my whole group when I say this, but for me especially, that I think we both made the right choice three weeks ago. Welcome to Alexandria."

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A/N I hope you enjoyed this chapter as much as Carrie did! Thank for the reviews, please keep them coming as they are my life blood! They keep AngieB and I churning out chapters and ideas, so thank you! For now, back to the week end posting schedule, maybe in a few more weeks there will be an extra chapter posted mid week. Until then, please review and enjoy! Thanks.


	11. Chapter 11

**Dear Jofrench22 -** I read the incomplete reviews and I was hanging by a thread waiting for the finished one! I'm so glad you managed to get your whole review out! I'm glad you liked Carrie's conversation with the Alexandrian's, and the contrast between the characters' experiences. Thanks for reviewing, I always love reading your reviews, but for some reason the site won't let me respond to them like I try to do with others. Thanks :-)

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All day Rick had been feeling out of beat and antsy, his mind scrambled as though there had been something he had forgotten to do. It took following Carrie outside for him to realise that it was her absence that was putting him on edge, their lack of time together that had affected him. They were one another's source of distraction and relief from the world, and that's what he'd been unconsciously seeking throughout the day. As soon as they had started kissing out on the dark road, he could tell how badly she wanted to do something right then. The need for something physical and visceral to release the stress and emotions she felt was something Rick understood all too well, but until meeting her he had usually found that relief by killing Walkers. Understanding what she needed from him, that sex would give her the physical exertion she needed to release her stress, he was reluctant to turn down her request that they go home together. Certainly he gave it due thought…hell, he'd even considered heading to the grass by the solar panels and simply having at her there, but thankfully rational thought had won out.

There wasn't time for them to enjoy one another the way she'd like, but getting carried away he sought to at least give her something. It felt completely natural to slide his hand into her underwear and start touching her, wanting her to get off despite the fact that it was cold and anyone with a flashlight could discover them. He'd taken a risk to give her what she needed, enjoying the throaty gasps she made as she tried to stay quiet. He appreciated her attempts to return to favour to him, but more than once he had to bat her hand away from his crotch, knowing that Deanna would want to start her speech at any moment. By the time she'd finished, the relaxation in her limbs indicated that his suspicions had been right…that was exactly what she had needed.

When she had thanked him for the promise that he'd try to find them time alone together, the pressure he had been feeling all day came to a head, reminding him of what he wanted. Just like Carrie, he was being weighed down with the stress and emotion of their return to Alexandria, and he too needed the physical release he had just given her. Putting it bluntly, he wanted sex. Every time they'd been together it had been a welcome distraction from the world outside, a moment for them to forget about everything else and focus purely on something good, something that they enjoyed. When he whispered to her that she wasn't the only one who needed this, he had meant it.

With the party waiting for them, they'd reluctantly gone back inside, straightening their appearance so no one knew the truth about what they'd been doing outside. Then came the difficult part. Listening to Deanna and Abraham speaking, Rick found his attention wandering despite his best intentions. After what had just happened out on the dark road, the idea of standing next to Carrie without taking advantage of their close proximity was unfathomable. Standing at the back of the room with everyone else crammed in front of them, it was all too easy for Rick to place his hand on Carrie's lower back. No one could see what he was doing, and if Tara or Rosita noticed he couldn't have cared less. At first, Rick had felt the urge to hold Carrie's hand, and despite the way that gesture felt perfectly natural, he knew it wasn't acceptable. Holding her hand right now would have crossed the line of how they had defined their relationship. Though he'd never had a booty call, he figured publicly holding hands wasn't exactly part of the deal. On the other hand, secretly feeling her up seemed more appropriate.

He had enjoyed her reaction immensely, feeling the way her body tensed and relaxed each time he moved his hand. When he'd reached right down the curse of her ass to touch the back of her legs, the shiver she gave was well worth the pounding heart he was putting up with. She held out from retaliating longer than he expected, but he had been fully prepared for it anyway. The moment she had started reaching for his crotch he pushed her hand away, not wanting her to cause a problem that he couldn't hide, particularly in these loose trousers. How he cursed Carol for stealing his jeans while he showered. For the rest of the speech, Rick had mentally recited the Pledge of Allegiance, his best method for willing away an unwanted erection…the fact that he was about to get up and speak in front of everyone also helped.

With his speech thankfully concluded, Rick stepped away from the microphone and let Deanna resume the last of the formalities, welcoming everyone to tea, coffee and dessert. Glad that it was over, he hoped he hadn't pushed his luck too far, knowing that while he had held back from the harsher truth, these people still weren't prepared to hear the softer version he had shared. As everyone began to disperse again, he looked across the room to where Carrie had been standing, glad when he managed to catch her eye. She'd been waiting for him to look, and when he did she gave him a small smile and a nod, indicating her approval for his speech. He was glad what he said to her had been met with approval, for he'd been desperately trying to think of something meaningful to say to her, something that would convey the significance of what it meant that day he picked her up off the side of the road. Lori had always told him to talk more, and though this had frustrated him to no end, perhaps she had something useful there. It was only an offhand comment Carrie made about not having a choice that gave him the inspiration for what he wanted to say to her.

Now that the formalities of the evening were concluded, Rick could make the most of his agreement with Carrie. As everyone began to disperse into the other rooms, Rick tried to make his way towards Carol to check on Judith, but as usual found himself frequently held up. Making the obligatory small talk as he went around, he made sure to thank everyone again for Judith's birthday gifts, answering questions and accepting gratitude for the volume of supplies that had been brought back, but he took note of one key absence. Not one person mentioned the things he had brought up. Not the people from Ohio, not their attacks, nor the plans for firearms training and safe houses. As he anticipated, the Alexandrian's were avoiding the topic, passively showing their rejection.

Checking his watch, he saw that it was quickly approaching eight o'clock, and he used this as his excuse to flee the small talk. Going into the kitchen where he suspected she would be, he found Carol with Judith in her arms, trying her best to help the others as they began serving dessert and setting out tea and coffee.

"Thanks for taking care of her," he said, taking Judith in his arms. She protested crankily, a low grumble indicating how tired she was, and so he quickly settled her against his chest before returning the bottle of formula to her hands. Exhausted, she pushed the bottle away and snuggled up against him instead, beginning to suck her thumb.

"No problem," Carol said sincerely, taking the knitted blanket Natalie had been made and tucking it around Judith. "I figured you'd want to put her down soon, so I dressed her in her pyjamas."

He nodded in gratitude, the two of them moving to a quieter part of the kitchen where they could speak privately. "I'm going to take her home. I've had enough of this party."

Understanding, Carol didn't nag him to stay. "Daryl probably won't be far behind you either…that was a good speech by the way."

"You don't think I came across to strong?"

"I meant what you said about Carrie."

"So I did come across as too strong?"

Carol allowed exasperation to flash across her face. "They're going to need spoon feeding, that's for sure. We'll work on it slowly."

With nothing else to say, Rick just thanked her again before letting her go, knowing she was helping with food and drinks. Slinging Judith's backpack over his shoulder, he started looking around for Carl, knowing he was going to have to make a good effort to ensure he didn't come home and interrupt he and Carrie, or worse, catch them. Catching Carrie's eye again, he gave her a short smile when she noticed Judith in his arms, and she looked rather pleased by this. Looking forward to their time together, Rick went in search of Carl. Though he had been upstairs during the speeches, he had returned to the basement where he was hanging out with his friends, swinging his legs beneath his crutches while Enid and Mikey played ping pong. Catching his eye, Rick ushered him over.

"I'm taking your sister home," he began, getting straight to the point. He glanced at his watch before continuing. "It's eight o'clock now, I want you home by nine."

Carl's distress was comical, and exactly what Rick was seeking. "Oh come on Dad," he moaned, glancing back at his friends. "Seriously?"

"You've got school tomorrow."

"Not until midday! Ron and Mikey are allowed to stay late."

Pretending to look unimpressed, Rick raised his eyebrows. "How late are they staying?"

"I don't know…like, eleven?"

"They're not staying that late."

"Well they're not going home at nine o'clock either. Dad, please," he said, looking embarrassed. "I don't want to be the only one who has to go home because Daddy says so."

Clenching his jaw, Rick looked around in faux discomfort. "Ten o'clock."

"Eleven."

He sighed. "Ten thirty, and you can help do some of the cleaning up."

"Ten forty five."

"Ten thirty," he repeated firmly. "Not a minute later."

"Not a minute earlier either," Carl grinned, already taking off back towards Ron and Mikey. "Thanks Dad."

Far more successful than he anticipated being, Rick prayed Carl stuck by the remark that he wouldn't be a minute earlier. If he managed to get Judith to sleep in the next half hour, he had brought himself and Carrie an hour and a half to fool around, and a half hour buffer until ten thirty. That was more than enough time for them to scratch the itch, and to then go back to their normal facade. Rick would in bed pretending to sleep by the time Carl came home. Trying not to look too pleased by the turn of events, he went back upstairs and began making his excuses.

Catching Carrie's eye, he mouthed the words ' _twenty minutes_ ' and then lingered a moment, waiting for her nod of understanding. Simply winking at him, a small smile crossed her face before she turned back to the people she was talking to. Glad to see that she was still with Rosita and Tara, who would likely help her sneak out if she asked them to, he tucked the blanket further around Judith before quietly making his departure. He'd speak to Reg and Deanna tomorrow, make polite small talk and thank them for the party…it still astounded him that social niceties like that still existed. But they were necessary here, particularly if he wanted them on his side. After publicly claiming he had Deanna's support for the measures he wanted to implement, when he knew for fact that he didn't, he was going to need to treat very carefully with Deanna.

Stepping out into the brisk night air, Rick shivered and wished he had thought to bring himself a coat, and one for Carl too…Lori would have remembered. Making his way up the road and turning left past the courtyard, he was still dwelling on Deanna…the other night he and Carol had overheard her decision to talk to Carrie about what happened the morning after the herd. With Aidan's mistrust of him, Deanna wanted to hear another version of the events that unfolded, to hear Carrie's side of the story. Knowing that the mere question of this would bring up Carrie's awful history, Granger in particular, Rick and Carol had argued about whether or not to warn her about Deanna's impending investigation.

He had wondered if Deanna had already asked Carrie about it, knowing that if she didn't bring up the subject in her own living room he would never be able to overhear what was said. He couldn't bug the entire community just on the off chance that he hear something worth listening to…besides, he didn't feel that Carrie's response warranted being overheard. It didn't matter to him what she said about the morning after the herd, in fact, he'd prefer her to tell the truth, but Carol felt differently. Still not certain of how she felt about Carrie, she wanted to know what was said when Carrie was taken unawares, certain that this conversation would be indicative of her true loyalty. As far as this was concerned, Rick was stuck…he didn't want to go against Carol's wishes, but nor did he want Carrie to be taken unaware by a subject that was incredibly painful for her.

Arriving home, he double checked that all the blinds had been closed before turning on a single lamp for the others. Seeing that Judith was still uninterested in the rest of her bottle, he took her straight up stairs and entered their bedroom. It was with eager anticipation that he went about getting ready for his evening with Carrie, kicking off his shoes and socks and then single handedly removing his belt. Keeping the lights dimmed, he took Judith into the bathroom and found her washcloth, dampening it and then gently rubbing it over her teeth. She hadn't taken well to the toothbrush he had brought back for her, but while he clumsily brushed his own while holding her on his hip, he let her play with hers, encouraging her to put it into her mouth. Amused by the mistrustful look she gave it, for Judith approached all new changes with suspicion, he finished up and then took her into the bedroom.

He turned on the music she enjoyed listening to, keeping the volume low as he laid her down on the bed and swiftly changed her wet diaper. Rubbing her tired eyes, she struggled against him as he buttoned up her pyjamas, giving a loud wail until he found her brown security blanket and pacifier. He'd normally rub her down with some lotion after giving her a bath, a process that always calmed and soothed her, but he knew that's not what she wanted tonight. Still crying, she sat up and reached for him, telling him what she needed. More than happy to, he brought her back to his chest and sat down in the rocking chair, bundling her up in his arms just the way she liked. She kept fussing a little longer, tears spilling from her eyes, but he was persistent. Rocking the chair, he slowly patted her back, hoping and praying that he could get her to sleep soon enough. Fifteen minutes had passed already, and if Carrie came back before Judith was asleep…well a baby never exactly set the mood for a quickie.

Ten minutes later, Rick heard the front door slowly open and close, the tell tale sound of high heels on the floorboards indicating that it was Carrie. Though his heart sped up in anticipation, he was equally filled with disappointment. Perhaps knowing how desperately he wanted her to sleep, Judith was making every resistance possible, her eyes wide open despite her exhaustion. His frustration with her grew, but he reminded himself to be patient…if she sensed his frustration she'd only get upset and make the whole situation worse. Pulling out all the stops, he started tracing his fingers down the side of her face, Beth having learnt this trick when she was only a few months old.

"Hey," Carrie greeted him softly. Folding her arms, she casually leant against the door frame as she looked in at the two of them.

"Hey," he replied, giving her an apologetic expression. She didn't seem perturbed though…if anything, she was smiling. "She won't be much longer."

"That's okay," she said nonchalantly, the sound of her voice making Judith lift her head a little. "Take your time…I'll be in my room."

"Don't get undressed," he told her sternly, liking the way she frowned at this. "That's my job."

Carrie smiled, but didn't say a word. She turned and left, but when the sound of her heels on the floor stopped too quickly he glanced up at the doorway again. He just caught a glimpse of Carrie's hand dangling something in the doorway, and when she dropped it with a obvious chuckle he realised what it was…her underwear.

"Come on Judy Pie…go to sleep," he said in a soothing voice. "She's taken off her underwear," he whispered, kissing the top of her forehead. "She's going to start without me."

Having none of it, Judith simply snuggled back against his chest and refused to close her eyes, sniffling to herself as she tightly clenched her security blanket. His mind filled with thoughts of what Carrie might be doing alone in her bedroom, Rick tried as best he could to get Judith to go to sleep, wishing she wasn't so over tired. Moments like this were the more frustrating of parenthood, particularly when it irrationally felt like your kids were doing this on purpose. Another ten minutes passed before Judith suddenly sat up without warning, her pacifier wobbling as she let out a shuddering breath and reached for her crib. Surprised, Rick hastily got to his feet and lowered her into the crib, his heart hammering when she just cried again…what did she want? Was he reading her signals wrong?

As soon as her back hit the mattress, Judith wailed again and then struggled out of Rick's arms, turning over onto her front. To his sheer relief, she didn't climb to her feet and reach for him again. Rather she brought her knees up underneath herself and poked her bottom into the air, snuggling up into a ball and facing away from him. Crossing his fingers, he raised the blankets and tucked them in around her, making sure she didn't have the security blanket tangled up beneath her. Double checking her pacifier, he stroked her hair as she slowly settled down…less than sixty seconds later, she was fast asleep.

Exalting in his success, Rick lingered only long enough to turn on the camera and double check that the monitor was working before slowly creeping away from the crib. At the last minute he remembered what else he needed, and he opened up the third drawer of his nightstand. Knowing that Carl frequently borrowed his socks but never his underwear, this was where Rick had stashed the last four condoms he had taken from Walmart, glad he had found them still in his pocket the night he came home. Grabbing them and the baby monitor, he checked on Judith once more before creeping out of the room and closing the door. As he went, he stopped and snatched up the scrap of material Carrie had left in his doorway, unable to believe that this passed for underwear. Taking it with him, he swiftly made his way down the hallway towards her bedroom, not bothering to knock before he opened the door. The bedroom was empty, but hearing his arrival Carrie stepped out of her bathroom, looking glad to see him.

"She down for the night?" she enquired, stepping back inside the bathroom for a moment before reappearing. She'd taken off her make up…except for that damn red lipstick.

"Yeah," he nodded, grinning as she happily knelt on the bed. He tossed the scrap of fabric at her. "You call this underwear?"

"You disapprove?" she questioned in return, raising her eyebrow. "Maybe next time I just won't wear any."

Groaning at the thought, he put the baby monitor down on her nightstand and then eagerly joined her on the bed. Cupping her head in his hand, he started with a soft kiss, letting her deepen it as she wished. Apparently knowing exactly what she wanted, she put her hands on his hips and ushered him to sit down on the bed. Settling onto his lap, she straddled his thighs as there was an awkward moment of stray limbs, the two of them getting comfortable as quickly as possible. Their kiss was sweet and languid now, their closeness bringing a distinct aroma of beer to Rick's attention.

Noticing that her shirt was damp and smelled of beer, he pulled it from the waistband of her skirt. "What happened?" he enquired, pushing it up and over her shoulders before happily tossing it aside.

"Noah…" she sighed, her eyes fluttering closed as he began licking and kissing her breasts. "He spilt his beer on me."

"I should thank him." Unclasping her bra, he smirked as he pulled the straps off her shoulders and removed it.

"Why's that?"

Rick chuckled, having thought it was obvious. Cupping her breast in his hand, he eagerly swiped his tongue over her nipple, giving it a gentle suck and feeling it harden. "He's given me beer flavoured tits. What more could I ask for?" he enquired, enjoying the sound of her laughter. He could feel it emanating from inside her chest, the sound erupting from her lips and making him kiss them next.

Not wasting any time, he hastily began pushing her skirt up to her waist, not bothering to fumble with the hidden zipper. Equally eager to get started, Carrie was already opening his trousers, pulling them down only as far as she needed. With no one else home and no need to be quiet, Rick gave a long groan of approval when she started stroking his erection, using both of her hands. Faster than he expected, she was soon reaching for the condoms he had dropped onto the nightstand, her fingers shaking as she carefully opened one.

"What? No foreplay? No warm up?" he joked, watching as she rolled the condom on for him.

Carrie looked at him in exasperation. "I've been waiting in here for ten minutes, what do you think I was doing?"

Enjoying the way they could so easily banter back and forth, he swept her into a lush kiss, unable to resist her red lips a moment longer. Holding his breath as she sank down onto his erection, he kissed her a little more forcefully as his hands went to her hips, resisting the urge to pull her down further. This was her show right now, and he willingly let her take the lead.

It was excruciatingly arousing to watch the way she moved on top of him, to hear her breathing strain as she set the pace, slowly but firmly rocking her hips down on him. When she leant behind him to grasp for headboard for leverage, Rick paid careful attention to her breasts, taking advantage of his convenient access to them. Focusing, he tried to distract himself from how good she felt clenching around him, the warmth and tightness of her body making him want to finish way too soon. Unable to help himself, he pressed his hands more firmly against her hips, encouraging her to go a little faster. He grit his teeth in pleasure when she did so, but she soon began to falter, her grunts of frustration telling him something was wrong. Her left leg was trembling, reminding him on her injury. Knowing that it was painful for her, he gently slowed her down to a stop and then soothed her frustration with a kiss. They stayed like that for a few moments, Rick's hands moving up and down her bare back.

"How?" he asked shortly, hoping she knew what he meant.

Her shoulders slumping in relief, she gently pulled herself off him and then moved aside, tugging at his shirt to pull him on top of her. "Slow," she answered, reaffirming his knowledge that it was better to ask than to blindly hope he got it right.

Mindful of her leg, he sank back inside her body with a short grunt, resisting every urge he had to simply thrust into her hard. Knowing his own needs were significantly easier to satisfy, he forced himself to focus on her, knowing he'd be well rewarded for his efforts. Giving her what she needed, he slowly rocked their hips together, her legs around his waist ensuring his thrusts were slow and deep. Her smile of exaltation was exactly what he wanted to see, encouraging him to keep going, that he was getting it right. Every worry and concern that had weighed on his shoulders for months now was fading into the back ground, becoming non-existent. Sex was his new form of escapism, and Christ it was working well.

It took everything he had to keep going the way he was, to maintain the pace and motion that was so clearly working for her. As he knew he would be he was well rewarded, the sight and sound of Carrie finally unravelling beneath him a well earned reward. This was really the first time they'd been together without darkness hiding half of them from each other, and in the warm lights of her bedroom he could watch her expression change. He could watch the way she reached down to stroke herself, and he could see the way she clenched her eyes shut as she came with a loud groan of relief. Her fingers dug into his shoulder when she did, relaxing only when she came down from her high while he approached his own release.

Unable to help himself, he thrust inside her quickly, the urgency of his own climax only growing. Carrie stretched her legs down and entwined her ankles around the back of his knees, pulling him deeper inside her, and that was finally his undoing. He groaned loudly as he came, his face buried in her neck as his thrusts began to slow and eventually stop. His eyes closed and his lips pressed against her throat, he took a few moments to catch his breath, grateful that she seemed reluctant to release him from her arms, that she wanted to hold him there. They stayed still for as long as they could, but soon he was forced to pull out of her, unsure of whether or not he could keep his weight off her much longer.

Collapsing onto the bed beside her, Rick couldn't help but smile at the look on her face, pleased to see her looking so relaxed. It was a nice change to the slightly uncomfortable look she'd had on her face for the rest of the night, one he didn't like to see. Still smiling, he let his eyes rake up and down her body, amused that while he was still fully clothed, she was naked except for the skirt bunched around her waist. Her eyes closed and her hand resting on her forehead, she looked thoroughly debauched. He couldn't help but feel proud he had been the one to make her look like that.

"Thanks," she muttered, flopping her hand out to pat his stomach.

"You're welcome?"

She chuckled at this, turning her head and smiling at him lazily. Loving her expression, he rolled over and ran his hand up the inside of her thigh, disappointed when she shuddered and quickly pushed it away, too sensitive. Moving his hand to her hip instead, she kissed him slowly, the two of them slowly recovering and catching their breath.

"Your leg is still sore?" he asked, glancing down at her shin. The make up Michonne had used to cover the bruise was gone now, the dark colour on the front of her leg visible once again.

She nodded, running her lips up his jaw. "Pete says it will take a while to heal properly. But as soon as it's not too sore, I can start making runs with the others."

The mere mention of supply runs brought Rick crashing back to reality far too soon, making him dwell on the night in question when she had received that bruise. Having been left for dead by Nicholas, she had been on the run in the city of Franklin, evading the group from Ohio while also trying to find Rick…she'd run straight into the edge of a large park fountain, giving herself that bruise on her leg. She'd been soaking wet and freezing when they eventually found her…she was lucky to still be there.

Kissing her as a distraction, he reigned in his anger. He knew she'd likely be a supply runner upon her arrival here, but after everything that had happened on the supply run, Glenn wasn't the only one who Rick didn't want working with Aidan and Nicholas. He didn't trust either of them, knowing they weren't used to being held to such a high standard when it came to ensuring the safety of your group members. His first instinct was to tell Carrie in no uncertain terms that she was not to work with them…but she knew the risks just as well as he did. This was her decision, just as it was Glenn's…Rick could only dictate them so much, and so with that in mind, he focused instead on enjoying her, on trying to resume his former frame of mind.

For some reason, Carrie turned away from him when he tried to deepen their kiss. Smiling at him, she seemed amused by his surprise, by the way he didn't quite know what to make of her refusal. Soothing the rejection, she kissed him lightly and then pulled back again.

"Come take a shower with me."

The idea was thoroughly tempting, but he looked up at her alarm clock first. It was a little after nine o'clock, meaning that he had at least an hour in which to continue indulging his selfish desires.

"I stink, do I?" he enquired, glancing at the baby monitor next. Judith was exactly as he had left her, bottom poked high in the air, her head turned to the right as she sucked on her pacifier.

"I want to get you all soaped up," she whispered into his ear. "All soaped up, with no where to go."

Grinning, Rick sat up and tugged her along with him. "Alright, but only until our fingers are pruned," he insisted. "Carl will be home at ten thirty…I need to be lonely in my bed by then."

"He won't be home earlier?" Kicking off her heels, which until now he hadn't realised she was still wearing, she snatched the condoms off the bedside table and brought them with her.

"Not a minute earlier," he promised.

He was happy to admit her suggestion of a shower was exceptional. The hot water felt amazing as it beat down against his shoulders, Rick getting in first before making room for her. While it had occurred to him that perhaps they could use his ensuite instead, that they take advantage of the dual shower heads, the small shower cubicle in her bathroom was better suited to their needs. It forced them to stay close to each other, necessitating that they slide their hands over one another's body with great excess. Perhaps part of her plan, Rick was hard again the moment she joined him, his discomfort worsening each time her hands innocently brushed down the front of his stomach. She was toying with him, that much was clear, and within a few short minutes she had him eating out of the palm of her hand.

More relaxed this time, they simply took their time, taking turns to soap one another up and share chaste kisses in between. While her hands roamed over his body, still skirting around his uncomfortable erection, Rick dragged his lips across her shoulders, using his tongue to drink the warm water from her skin. Long past being embarrassed by his need for her, he gasped when she finally brushed her fingers over him, dipping lower and cupping his balls next. His frustration peaked when she swiftly took her hand away, and he started to get the feeling she was enjoying his struggle more than she should. Unable to hold back any more, he gripped her ass in his hands and pushed his hips against hers, receiving the smirk he knew she was holding back. The friction was almost perfect, and he thrust against her in desperation…was she waiting for him to beg? He'd do it if that's what she wanted…he was willing to beg.

"You waiting for me to beg?" he asked gruffly, roughly dragging his lips up the side of her neck. He could feel her rapid pulse, and he slowly swiped his tongue across her skin.

To his frustration, Carrie just shrugged, appearing unconcerned. She quickly began to laugh though, her eyes lighting up as she made him look at her. Maintaining eye contact, she lowered her hand and started stroking him, her palm slippery with soap and water. Panting now, he tried hard to maintain eye contact, but he quickly gave up on that, knowing it was a useless effort. His head heavy with pleasure, he buried his face back into the side of her neck, struggling for breath as he thrust into her hand. Pausing, she let go of him and placed her hands on the crest of his hips, making him move backwards. Letting her push him into the corner of the shower cubicle, he put his head back and let his eyes drift shut, hoping she was about to do what he thought she was.

"Stay right there," she told him, her voice low and husky. Taking each of his hands, she pressed his palms flat against each of the tiled walls, holding them there a moment. "Rick?"

"Yeah," he nodded, opening his eyes and looking at her. Understanding what she was trying to tell him, he kept his hands where she put them, his chest heaving in anticipation.

Thanking him with a kiss, she held his hands against the walls a moment longer before letting go. Bracing himself, he closed his eyes as she crouched down in front of him, one hand pressed to the front of his hip to hold him still. Going slowly, she ran her tongue along the length of his erection before taking him into her mouth, the sensation drawing a long moan out of his throat. Opening his eyes he looked down at her, and he groaned loudly as he watched himself disappearing into her mouth. His voice echoed as he swore under his breath, trying to get more than a few garbled words out to tell her how good that felt. It seemed to encourage her, his breathless praises spurring her on. Forgetting what she had asked him to do, he reached out to push her wet hair off her face, the gesture coming to him naturally. But the moment his fingers touched her she lurched away from him.

"Don't," she warned him, her voice containing no hint of playfulness as she put his hand back against the tiles.

"Shit, sorry," he apologised breathlessly, feeling like an asshole. "Carrie, I'm…"

He trailed off, the return of her lips indicating that he was forgiven. Her mouth felt warm and wet, her tongue moving in perfect sync with her hand, and it was all he could do to stay still, to play his part in making sure she was comfortable doing this for him. If she didn't want him to touch her then he wouldn't, no matter how badly he wanted to wind his fingers into her hair, to gently rock his hips to set the pace. It had of course occurred to him that despite having had the opportunity before, Carrie had not initiated oral sex the way she was now. He'd wanted it of course, he'd thought a great deal about how much he longed to have her mouth on his erection, but he hadn't tried to bring it up.

Sex with Carrie had to be taken at a particular pace, specifically, her own. He knew her history, he knew how men had taken advantage of her, and violently…the fact that she was comfortable enough to have sex with him was a big deal. Though he knew his advances on her were eagerly welcomed, he also knew that things had to be taken at her own pace, and he was more than willing to accommodate this. If that meant he had to wait for her to be comfortable with certain things, then he'd wait.

Feeling restless, he raised one hand and clenched it into his own hair, the other gripping the base of the shower head. He didn't trust himself not to reach out for her again, struggling enough to keep his hips still. Listening to the running water and the sound of it going down the drain, he tried to stave off his orgasm as long as he could, but that was easier said than done. Though she'd never done this for him before, Carrie didn't make a wrong move, every touch and caress compounding, the pleasure almost unbearable. He felt his self control beginning to fail him, a familiar pressure building inside him until he couldn't wait anymore.

"Shit, Carrie…I'm close," he panted in warning, his voice catching in his throat. _Don't thrust_ , he reminded himself forcefully. _Don't thrust_. "Fuck…I…"

A ragged groan built in his throat, his head falling back against the tiles when he finally came. The tension in his body was released in a swift rush of pleasure, breathless praises interspersed with her name falling from his lips. Still gripping the base of the shower head, he opened his eyes and looked down at her, shuddering as he watched her still working over him with her mouth. Even though he was the one who got off, there was a glint of satisfaction in Carrie's eyes when she finally stopped, feeling him flinch when it became too much.

While he panted to catch his breath, Carrie sensually ran her hands over his body, dragging her lips and tongue up his lower stomach, drinking the warm water off his skin. Shakily lowering his arms, Rick rubbed his hands over her shoulders and ushered her to stand, sliding his arms around her waist before bringing her to his chest. Not the least bit concerned where her mouth had just been, he kissed her deeply, hoping to convey his thanks this way until his mind managed to unscramble itself. He could feel her smiling against his lips, something he mimicked before giving a short laugh.

"Shit," he cursed, not knowing what else to say.

Carrie grinned, pressing her teeth around his bottom lip before responding. "That was shit?" she teased.

Shaking his head negatively, Rick smiled at her. "No," he corrected. "That was…"

Letting him flounder for just a moment, Carrie took pity on him. Kissing him, she draped her arms around his neck, pressing her breasts firmly against his chest. "Why don't you get back to me with that adjective? Your brain doesn't exactly have dibs on the blood flow right now."

"No," he agreed, his erection still hard against her stomach. Christ, she was making him feel like a teenager again.

Enjoying the moment, he reached up and turned the shower head towards them, not wanting her to get cold. She thanked him with a kiss, one that was long and languid, neither of them possessing the energy to do much more than to lazily stand there in one another's arms. Doing what he hadn't been able to do before, he gathered her hair off her face and pushed it behind her ear, being mindful of the cut on the top of her head. He was going to have to get used to the way it was now, still feeling a slight jolt each time he remembered that it was short now, that there was less of it to clench his hands into. Thinking for a moment, he kissed her cheek as he finally came up with a suitable adjective, glad to see it made her chuckle.

Content to let her do as she pleased, Rick simply followed her lead as she squirted some liquid soap onto her palms and started soaping him up again. Doing the same to her, he took his time to wash every part of her, enjoying the opportunity to touch her body so freely. Running his hands from her hips, up the curve of her waist and then over her ribs, he took the time to properly massage her breasts, pleased by the shiver of delight he managed to elicit. He loved her breasts, hardly able to restra-

A loud, obtrusive knock broke Rick out of his thoughts, startling both he and Carrie. Freezing where they stood, they both turned to look at the door in apprehension, holding their breath as they waited for the person on the other side to speak.

"Hello?"

It was Carl.

* * *

A/N You know the drill, please leave a review! Thanks for reading!


	12. Chapter 12

Carrie felt relief the moment Rick entered her bedroom that night, the moment he kissed her, when he touched her. Still grinning at the way she had ditched her underwear right in his bedroom doorway, they got started immediately, Carrie having been waiting for him long enough that she didn't need or want foreplay. The restless energy and awful party were but a distant memory the moment Rick laid his hands on her, both of them using sex as a source of escape from the world, or temporary reprieve. She'd never had a friends with benefits type of relationship before, but the more she and Rick went at it, the more benefits she was beginning to see.

At her suggestion, they'd moved into the shower to finish up, Carrie locking the door behind them before finally divesting him on his clothing. It was like unwrapping a gift, particularly given the way she could so easily admire his body under the bright lights of her bathroom. Taking every advantage afforded by them squeezing into the small cubicle, she had made sure to explore all of him that was within her reach, except for one certain part. It was amusing to watch his expressions, to see the way he braced himself in anticipation of her hands on his erection, only to see the disappointment and frustration when she didn't. She enjoyed teasing him, particularly when he finally seemed to give him, thrusting himself against her and asking if he ought to be begging.

Making herself clear, she'd pushed him right back into the corner of the shower and placed his hands on the walls. Though she trusted him, she didn't want his hands on her right now, not while she was on her knees in front of him. The position alone was one of vulnerability and submission, and the men from Granger's group had taken advantage of this, making the act of her giving oral sex as awful as possible. Of course it was different with Rick, for he would have been appalled to do something like that to her, but still she kept her defences up. She didn't want him touching her, she didn't want him rocking his hips…maintaining control of him was what enabled her to actually do for him what she wanted to .

While she had trusted him the first time they slept together back at the underground bunker, she trusted him in an entirely different way now. She knew him better, and she knew what he was like sexually…he was considerate and caring, but more importantly he wasn't forceful or impatient with her. Each time they'd slept together he had allowed her to set the pace and tone, while still making his own needs known…she liked that about him, glad that he was willing to make these accommodations for her. If he'd questioned her reluctance to give oral sex prior to this, he hadn't mentioned it, for which she was glad. When he realised what she was doing, and her conditions, he'd followed her lead without question, doing his absolute best to restrain himself. He'd faltered only once, his hand reaching down probably to push the wet hair off her face. It hadn't bothered her as much as she thought it might, particularly given how genuine his apology seemed.

Getting straight back to it, she remembered how she had always loved the strangled gasps a man would make during oral sex, and Rick did not disappoint. His voice trembled as he swore under his breath, struggling to get more than a few garbled words out. It was always the quiet ones she mused to herself…restrained and cautious by nature, the moment their pants were down they lost their inhibitions. If Carrie wagered a guess, she would say Rick's head was completely devoid of anything external to that room. Though she was breathless and her jaw ached already, Carrie went harder, enjoying his reactions.

Ever considerate, he'd warned her before he climaxed, his lungs heaving for breath as he tried to stay still. Although he'd been the one to get off, Carrie too felt immense satisfaction, enjoying the way his eyes closed, his head falling back against the tiles as he came. The ache in her jaw and short lived vulnerability she felt were all worth it just for Rick's reaction, and Carrie knew she'd definitely be doing this for him again. As he coaxed her back to her feet and kissed her breathlessly, Carrie felt excited to have finally moved past her initial reluctance to do that for him, suspecting she wouldn't have done that for any other partner.

Rick just made it so easy to feel comfortable, even though a small part in the back of her mind told her she was starting to feel too comfortable. Standing there in his arms, kissing him while they bantered back and forth, it was hard to emotionally keep her distance, particularly when he seemed so warm and affectionate. It was a loud knock on the door that saw she and Rick break from their thoughts, the sound all the more obnoxious given what it was interrupting. There was an awful moment when they stood there frozen in shock, his hands still cupping her breasts as they waited for the person on the other side to speak.

"Hello?"

It was Carl, that much managed to register in her head before she was slapping her palm over Rick's mouth. He had opened it as if to call out in return, and judging by his erection, his brain still did not have dibs on sufficient blood flow. Pausing long enough to be impressed by his recovery time, she gave him a look that clearly told him to keep his mouth shut, that he was in her bathroom where he shouldn't be.

Remembering his guarantee that they wouldn't be interrupted, she glared at him while she called out to their intruder. "Geez, Carl. You're home early."

"Do you know where my dad is?" Carl called back to her. "I'm looking for him."

Taking her hand down from Rick's mouth, she stepped back from him. "No. Sorry."

There was a long pause, Carrie bracing herself for Carl to give up and leave. Not to her surprise, Rick's erection was suffering greatly thanks to his son's interruption. His expression was one of significant worry, his complexion beginning to look a little pale. She seconded this expression…if Carl was looking for him, they were in quite the difficult position.

"What do you mean?" Carl called out again. "He gave you the baby monitor, right?"

Cringing, Carrie sighed as she remembered that Rick had brought in Judith's baby monitor, that it was sitting on her bedside table in plain sight. Thinking on this, she urgently looked around the bathroom floor, glad that fate had seen Rick undressing in there, and not in her bedroom. The condoms were on the bathroom sink to, but what about the one they had already used? Had she left the wrapper sitting on the bed? She looked at Rick, and as he clenched his eyes closed in exasperation, he pressed his fingertips to the bridge of his nose. Thinking quickly, she reached behind him and turned off the tap, shutting off the flow of water. Leaving him to shiver from the cold, she carefully stepped out onto the tiles and moved towards the door.

"Sorry, I couldn't really hear you," she lied, calling out loudly. "Can you start again?"

"Do you know where my dad is?"

"He's gone for a walk," she answered, looking back at Rick and giving him a nervous smile. "He gave me the baby monitor."

There was a short pause. "Well, when will he be back?" Carl asked, sounding frustrated.

"I don't know," she apologised. "He only just left, he'll probably be a while." There was another pause, and when Carl didn't reply, Carrie continued. "Is everything okay?"

"Yeah, it's fine…can you just tell him I'm staying at Ron's house tonight?" he asked tentatively. "Carol said it's alright, but she wanted me to ask him just in case."

Looking back at Rick, she grinned. He was leaning back against the tiles, his shoulders sagged in relief.

"No problem, I'll tell him. So, you won't be back until morning?" she confirmed.

"No. But I'm still going to school. Can you tell him that just in case he gets all shitty?"

Glancing back at him again, she was pleased to see him smiling, giving her a look she knew and understood quite well. He was definitely seeing the advantage of the fact that his son wasn't coming home until the morning.

"You know," she smiled, still looking at Rick while she spoke to Carl. "I don't think he'll mind at all."

Carl scoffed. "You haven't seen him when he's all grumpy."

A look of outrage crossed Rick's face, but he simply shook his head in exasperation, probably agreeing with Carl's observation.

"Have a good night, Carl," she called out. Shivering, she was more than ready to get back in the shower with Rick. She couldn't wait to get her hands into his wet hair, to lather it up and massage his scalp.

"Hey, Carrie," Carl called out at the last minute. "Before I knocked, were you…were you singing?"

Detecting the laughter in his voice, Carrie breathed a sigh of relief. If he'd heard she and Rick talking, he didn't suspect that she had another person in there with her, only that she was belting out a tune. "Shut up you little wart," she said, pretending to sound affronted. "Or I'll tell your dad you think he's grumpy."

"He already knows, I tell him all the time. Good night!"

Waiting until she heard her bedroom door close, Carrie gestured for Rick to turn on the shower again. She took one of the condoms from the bathroom counter and brought it with her when she stepped back into the shower, showing it to him before putting it on the shelf. "You know what this means," she smiled, sliding her hands around his waist.

"Yes, I do," he agreed, kissing her neck as they returned to their former activities.

Running her hands down his back, she clenched her fingers into his ass, enjoying not only the feeling of it beneath her palms, but the way it made him jerk against her. They laughed quietly, still conscious of Carl still likely in the house for the next few minutes, but they soon got back into the swing of things, making good use of their extended privacy. It was after ten o'clock by the time they finally emerged from the shower, Carrie giving Rick one of her towels to use. Practically fending him off, she fixed her towel around her chest before batting him away.

"My God, take a break!" she scolded, chuckling as he slipped his hand under her towel and pinched her ass.

"Can't," he said in lieu of an apology. Catching the top of her arms, he stood behind her and pressed a kiss to the back of her shoulder. "Already tried."

She giggled uncharacteristically when he embraced her from behind, his wet chest pressed against her while he bundled her arms up and held them with his own. The way he stood behind her with his arms around her waist took her back to twenty minutes ago, to the way he'd held her against the tiled wall as he hurriedly thrust inside her. Unlike before, which had been slower and more gentle, this time they took it hard and fast, his short thrusts perfectly angled. Now though, they stood in a similar embrace completely at ease, their hearts slow and their pace lazy. There was a long pause as they stood there together, Rick finally pressing his lips against the back of her shoulder again. It was nice to stand there in his arms, finally feeling a sense of peace for the first time since arriving in Alexandria. She glanced over at her bedroom door, annoyed to know that reality was just on the other side of it…hell, reality had nearly stopped them in their tracks that night.

"Can I stay a little longer?'

Rick's question was tentatively voiced, making her wonder how long he'd been thinking about asking.

"I was hoping you would," she told him honestly. Turning her head, she met his lips with her own. "You can stay as long as you want."

Kissing her back, he nodded in thanks. "I'm going to get dressed. Be right back."

Stealing one more kiss, she regretfully let him leave, watching him as he picked up his clothing and swiftly departed. When he pulled the door closed behind himself, she removed her towel and then hurriedly dried herself off, wanting him to find her stark naked when he returned. Drying her hair as best she could, she hung up her towel and then quickly tidied her bedroom, picking up her clothing before puling back the comforter on the bed. She wasn't entirely sure what Rick's intentions were regarding how long he intended to stay, but she could give him some indication as to what she hoped.

Reminding herself not to get emotionally invested, that a booty call spending the night was an unusual occurrence, she found the plastic bag Jessie had given her that afternoon. Taking it into the bathroom, she applied a little of the product to her hair before putting the rest away and plugging in the hair dryer. Roughly running her brush through it, she smiled at her reflection as she began drying her hair, enjoying the gusts of hot air across her scalp and neck. It had been a year and a half since she had done this, but the technique for a quick dry off returned easily, much like riding a bike.

Rick returned a minute later, appearing behind her in the mirror as he returned her towel. She watched his face in the mirror, pleased to see his expression of approval when he found her naked. He blatantly looked her up and down, his eyes lingering on her ass as he hung up her towel. Unapologetic, she did the same to him, glad that he was wearing only a loose pair of grey sweats. They would be easy to divest him of.

"Do you want something to drink?" he asked, his fingertips brushing against her waist.

She nodded, turning off the hair dryer to answer him. "Please. My water bottle should be in the kitchen." With one more lingering glance down, Rick disappeared from sight, but at the last minute Carrie remembered something else. Poking her head out of the bathroom, she caught him just as he was leaving. "Hey…bring me a snack?"

Amused by his exasperation, she just grinned and then returned to her former task of drying her hair. Putting the dryer away, she applied a little moisturiser to her face and then grabbed a bottle of skin lotion. She was used to having dry skin in general, a consequence of always being a little dehydrated, but now that she had the means, she was meant to be taking care of herself. Rick was back when she entered her bedroom again, sitting cross legged on the bed with a plate beside him. Seeing that it was one of Carol's cookies, her eyes widened in appreciation.

"Where did you get that?" she asked in surprise. Making sure he was watching, she bent over at the waist as she opened her drawer for some underwear. His sharp intake of breath indicated he was indeed watching.

He cleared his throat. "She always makes extra, but she hides them from Eugene. They're usually in the medicine cabinet."

"Good to know," she said appreciatively, having enjoyed the piece of cookie Rosita and Tara had given her that afternoon. Slipping on a comfortable tank top, she turned on her bedside lamp before gesturing for Rick to hit the main lights, he being the closest. Sitting down on the bed, she was amused to note that he had chosen a side for himself. "You want half?"

"No thanks."

"Is anyone else home yet?

"Daryl and Michonne," he answered, though he didn't elaborate further. "How's your leg feeling?" he asked, watching as she smoothed lotion around the bruise, avoiding it.

"It's still a little sore. I think I bumped it earlier."

"I can get you an ice pack if you want."

Looking at him in surprise, she quirked an eyebrow. "After everything you've been through, how are you still so sweet?"

He scoffed. Reaching out, he rubbed his fingertips over the side of her knee, feeling the smooth skin where she had rubbed the lotion. "Well you just like being on top so much, I figure we ought to get your leg healed."

A slow smile crossed her face, a little embarrassed by his remark. "You're right, I do like being on top…I'm just bossy."

"I don't mind," he remarked slyly, yawning as he slipped his legs under the comforter and lay down. "It's a great view."

While she chuckled to herself, rubbing the lotion down her other leg now, he stretched his arm out behind her, letting his forearm rest against the top of her ass. His fingers curled around a little, playing with the top of her underwear as he waited. There was a comfortable silence, Carrie finishing the rest of the cookie in between trying to rub in the last of the lotion. With her hands slick with residue, she reached over and rubbed them across his stomach, making him roll his eyes.

"You done?"

"Yep," she shrugged, getting up to put the lotion away. Washing her hands, she quickly brushed her teeth for a second time that night before returning to the bedroom, finding that Rick's eyes were closed. She stood there and admired him for a moment, knowing it was rare to see him in such a vulnerable state. Taking the opportunity, she indulged herself by admiring his features, knowing his features rarely softened the way they had now.

Trying not to disturb him, she slipped beneath the covers quietly, but he roused the moment she touched the mattress. With a long yawn he turned away and reached for the baby monitor, hitting a button that illuminated the screen. Peering over too, Carrie smiled to see Judith in her crib, thinking she looked pretty warm and cosy there. Satisfied that Judith was sleeping, Rick turned back over and gestured for her to come closer, giving her a sweet kiss when she did. What she'd been thinking about before, about the need to not build an emotional attachment to what they were doing…it was suddenly becoming much more difficult.

"Did she like her Cozy Coupe?" Carrie asked, turning off the light and laying down.

"No," he said in exasperation. "She licked it, and then chased a piece of lint."

"Oh, that's a bit disappointing."

He seemed unconcerned. "She's too small for it now…we got her a trike too, she likes that."

When she lay down he reached out for her, the two of them moving a little closer. While she lay on her back, Rick lay on his side, a sleeping habit she'd noticed on the supply run. But unlike then, tonight he slid his arm around her, letting his hand rest on her hip where it wouldn't be too heavy. It was a pleasant surprise, one that made her reach up and place her hand over his. Though they were touching only a little, it felt particularly affectionate, like the comforting touch one would give another after a bad day.

"I hear you joined the construction crew," he remarked, his voice sounding deeper in the darkness.

"Just as a look out. I've got to learn how to use a rifle though." She paused. "Good thing I know a guy."

She felt his chest rumbling, his chuckle warm against the top of her shoulder. "I'm surprised you're willing to learn."

Carrie just shrugged. "I guess I'm a bit more confident these days."

"That's good to know," he murmured.

There was silence now, the two of them laying in the dark beside one another, but for some reason Carrie didn't quite relax. Unsure of whether it was the stress of that evening, or Rick's presence in the bed next to her, but she started to get the feeling that she might not go to sleep that easily. When it came to sleeping she felt like she was all over the place at the moment. Having gone from months of drifting in and out consciousness that counted as sleep, to sleeping with a group around her, back to sleeping in a bed alone, Carrie had struggled to adjust each time the situation changed. Though Rick was a welcome addition in her bed, particularly with his arm body pressed against her side, she wondered if his presence was the cause of her restlessness.

She turned her head towards him, now able to feel his breath against her chin…but it wasn't the slow, deep breaths of a man falling asleep. He was as wide awake as she was, and given what she had just been thinking, she self-consciously wondered if he would rather be in his own bed, if he regretted asking to stay with her.

"Is everything okay?" she asked quietly. With her free hand she crossed her fingers, hoping that he wanted to stay.

As she voiced her question, Rick gave a soft sigh. "Look…I'm just gonna say it" he started, indeed sounding troubled. "If Carter asks you out, I want you to say no."

Taken by surprise, Carrie smiled to herself, glad that the problem was something she could address. She had heard from the others that Carter was interested in her, that he was going to work him up to asking her on a date. Not wanting to make the same mistake she had with Aidan by not handling his interest, she had intended to politely shoot him down, but Rick's request that she do so came as a surprise.

"If Carter asks me out?" she enquired innocently.

"Yes."

"Say yes?"

She felt him tense up beside her. "No," he said shortly. "Say no."

Chuckling under her breath, Carrie turned her head and looked at him, even though she could only see shadows. "Why? Are you jealous?"

There was a short pause, and she could feel the tension and discomfort radiating from him. She was enjoying this more than she ought to admit, pleased by the idea that he was jealous of someone else asking her out.

"Yes."

Enjoying his tone of defeat, one that indicated he was as surprised by his jealousy as she was, Carrie turned on her side to face him. Moving her hand over his stomach, she moved it up and caressed his chest, feeling the way his body moved with each breath. She could feel his heart rate, sensing that it was a little faster than it should be. On instinct, she found his lips in the darkness and gave him a lingering kiss, brushing her tongue across his bottom lip. He made a soft sound against her lips, his arms entwining themselves around her waist as they kissed in the darkness. When they broke apart, Carrie smiled to herself as she pressed her lips to the corner of his mouth before speaking.

"Good," she said bluntly. "I'd be jealous too."

* * *

Feeling Rick swiftly leaving her side, Carrie roused, the sudden departure immediately setting her nerves on edge. It took a few moments for her to rouse properly, and by the time she realised why he had gone, her heart was already pounding in fear. Hearing the sound of Judith grumbling over the baby monitor, she mentally scolded herself for her over reaction, not that she blamed herself. Out on the road, the suddenly departure of a sleeping mate usually meant cause for concern, usually Walkers. Laying back down, she sighed as she stretched her arm out to where Rick had been sleeping, feeling how warm the sheets were. Disappointed by his departure, though she wouldn't hold it against him, she gave a low groan as she moved onto her front and lay where he had been, resting her head on the pillow he had been using.

The baby monitor screen had been illuminated, and she smiled as she saw Rick adjusting the blankets around Judith, slipping the pacifier into her mouth as he gently shushed her. He disappeared from sight for a moment, his hand reappearing through the rails of the crib to rub her back. She grumbled for a few moments, a heavy breath escaping her nose, but she quickly settled again. As Rick lingered, still rubbing her back, the screen on the monitor automatically went blank again. Not expecting him to return, Carrie simply closed her eyes and tried to go back to sleep, surprised when she heard her door opening again a few minutes later.

"Is she okay?" she asked, moving back to her side as he returned to bed.

"Yeah," he whispered, apparently unconcerned. He gently nudged her knee aside before laying down again, settling into the pillow with a long sigh. "She kicks off the blankets and then gets cold…does it every night."

Tired, Carrie just grunted in amusement, feeling herself slipping back off to sleep. Rick on the other hand seemed to be wide awake, and as though she could tell he was about to say something, Carrie only lingered on the edge of sleep, waiting for him. It was a few moments before he whispered to her, asking whether or not she was still awake.

"No. I'm asleep," she answered clearly.

He leant over and kissed the back of her shoulder. "I need to talk to you about something."

"What?" she asked, raising her head when she detected the serious tone in his voice. She went to turn on the light, but when she felt his fingers pressed against her lips, she paused.

"You're not supposed to know this, okay?"

"Okay," she answered, getting the hint.

There was a long pause, Rick's hesitation reaffirming the need for secrecy. "On the supply run, the morning after we led the herd away? Deanna's going to talk to you about what happened that day."

Carrie blinked in surprise, her mind taking a moment to catch up with what she had just heard. When it did she felt her mouth go dry, uneasy with the memories that were suddenly coming back. That morning, stranded with very little gas, she and Rick had gone to what they thought was an abandoned farmhouse to scavenge gas…it was there they encountered Granger, the man she thought she had killed, the man from the group who had raped her. Understandably, things turned ugly very quickly.

"Why?"

"Aidan's been in her ear about it…about me."

"Oh," she said quietly, feeling gooseflesh erupting on her skin despite the warmth of the bed. Thinking for a moment, she tried unsuccessfully to organise her thoughts. "What do you want me to tell her?" she asked, needing his guidance on the matter.

"The truth…about what I did anyway."

Like so many other things he said, this surprised her. "You don't want me to lie?"

"No. You should tell her what I did."

She took pause for a moment, taking this all in. "What about him?" she asked, not needing to say his name. "What do you want me to say about him?"

"That's why I'm giving you a heads up. You decide what you tell Deanna. Just remember that you don't owe her anything…not even the truth."

"I do," she disagreed. "I ow-"

"No," he cut her off, not unkindly. "You owe Deanna nothing, alright?"

"Alright," she agreed softly. A moment passed, Carrie relaxing her hands when she realised they were clenched in the sheets. "Why aren't I meant to know this?"

"Because I'm not meant to know."

"And how do you know?"

"I just do."

Accepting that she wasn't entitled to an explanation, Carrie simply nodded and then tried to relax back into the bed. Laying right next to him, she moved her hand out in the darkness, glad when he found it with his. Letting him take it in his own, he moved it beneath the blanket to warm it up again, but it did little to help the rest of her. At the thought of what happened that day, of the memories it dredged up, Carrie's body had gone cold, her stomach squirming in discomfort. Time and time again those memories came back to her, and although she kept telling herself to get over it, to never think of it again, the pain inevitable. Wondering for how many years Granger's group would be a cloud over her head, she began to seek out the very thing that would make her feel better, something that she knew would work.

Gently kissing Rick, she made her request clear by slipping her hand inside his sweatpants. He didn't take much convincing, and they stopped only so that he could slip into her bathroom where they had left their last two condoms. They didn't bother turning on the lights, for although they were still learning one another's body, they didn't need the light this time. Kissing him hungrily, she helped him pull her underwear down before welcoming his body as he moved on top of her. Grateful, she let him help bury the memories she didn't want to dwell on ever again, forgetting all about them for a little while at least.

Completely entwined with him, the sex provided a diversion, an escape they both craved. A short while later when they were both satisfied, Carrie thanked him with a lingering kiss, and was half asleep before he could even throw the condom in the trash. He brought her some final comfort when he nudged her onto her side, his body warming her back as he slipped his arm around her waist. Unlike before, Carrie fell asleep with ease, comforted by his embrace and the warmth of his breath on the back of her shoulder.

When she awoke early the following morning, well rested and wondering why she felt so at ease, Rick was already gone.

* * *

The morning after the party dawned far earlier than Rick would have liked, his responsibilities and duties difficult to ignore. Despite the way his body was beginning to tell him he needed rest, the growing list of things he had to do meant he spent the day outside the walls instead. There was never time for rest, at least not in Rick's eyes. Judith had roused for a second time a little after five o'clock in the morning, the usual time she awoke and found herself in need of company. Forced to leave Carrie's bed again, Rick had listened to Judith starting to grumble over the monitor while he searched in the sheets for his sweatpants, having clumsily discarded them in the heat of the moment last night. Trying not to rouse Carrie, who appeared to be sleeping well after their third round of sex, he untangled his sweatpants and slipped them on, resisting the natural urge to kiss her good bye.

With the hope of maybe getting Judith back to sleep, Rick had done his best to settle her, going about their normal routine of changing her diaper before bringing her into bed with him. While yesterday she had reluctantly gone back to sleep beside him, Tuesday morning she was far from cooperative. Not only did she hate to wake up and find herself alone in the bedroom, Rick had taken far too long in reaching her…wide awake now, Judith had wanted her breakfast immediately. With no choice other than to wake the whole house with her crying, he had reluctantly admitted defeat, trying to squash down his exhaustion with coffee. While Judith happily ate her oatmeal, Rick sat at the island bench with his head on his arms, trying to get a little more rest before the day started.

Unlike one would expect from a man who had sex three times the previous night, he was exceedingly crabby that morning, his body sore and aching all over. Even though in retrospect he was still rather young, perhaps he'd over done it last night with Carrie…certainly he felt older than he really was. Somehow he managed to make it through the morning, downing two cups of coffee before hoping that a shower would make him feel a little better. Putting Judith under the other shower head and letting her play with her bath toys, he spent a great length of time under the stream of hot water, waiting for the moment in which he would be ready for the day.

That moment didn't come.

"You're going to worry yourself sick," Carol warned him a few hours later. Taking over with Judith, she gave him a disapproving look. "You should stay home and rest for a while."

Brushing off her concern, Rick grabbed his things and then left. There was still too much for him to do, so many things that needed to be accomplished, and given that last night they appeared to have made some headway with the Alexandrian's, the work outside the walls needed to be started before they got cold feet. Aside from setting up the safe houses and surveillance system, they had a lot of work cut out for them in order to set up some Walker traps. He'd normally completed his first round of the outside by now, but given that Carol had taken a well deserved sleep in after staying late to clean up after the party, he was about two and a half hours behind schedule. Olivia was rather pleased by this, and when Rick made his way to the armoury to collect his guns, he was surprised to see Carrie there already.

"Let me just go and get the key," Olivia said, heading upstairs to retrieve it.

Annoyed that she didn't carry the key on her at all times, Rick lingered in the Pantry, he and Carrie sharing a knowing look.

"You slipped out early," he commented, having not noticed her leaving the house that morning.

"I left while you were still in the shower," she smiled. Tearing her eyes away from what looked like a full spreadsheet, Carrie sipped from her mug of tea and looked at him over the top of it.

"You left at six o'clock in the morning?"

Carrie just shrugged, smiling at him coyly. "Well my bed was pretty lonely when I woke up." She cleared her throat, strumming her fingers on her mug. "I couldn't help but notice you spent an awfully long time in the shower…made me wonder what you were doing in there."

There was no mistaking what it was she was suggesting, and given the events of the previous night, she wasn't exactly wrong. While in the midst of trying to wake himself up that morning, his thoughts had turned to the shower he'd shared with her only last night, the memories sending his mind into over drive. Thinking of her, he had reached down to start touching himself, but reality quickly put a stop to that. The company of his one year old daughter three feet away made any thoughts of jerking off only fleeting, much to his disappointment. Christ…it had been so long since he'd even thought about doing that. The world as it was usually didn't accommodate such personal and hedonic indulgences.

Simply smiling at Carrie's suggestive remark, he decided to let that thought linger with her throughout the day, feeling it unfair that he be the only one whose thoughts were distracted by sex. To both his relief and disappointment, Olivia soon returned with the key to the armoury, and Carrie tuned back to the computer.

"Sorry," Olivia apologised meekly, holding up the key. "Couldn't find it."

Rick did not approve of this. "Does it often take five minutes to find the key to our main defences?"

Olivia had the humility to look embarrassed by this significant short coming. "I'm not going to lie…I'm really hungover."

"Okay."

"Be grateful you weren't here three hours ago like you normally are," she remarked, opening the door for him and taking the clipboard to record the checking out of weapons. "Carrie didn't exactly see me at my best."

"Right."

Having made his disapproval clear, and secretly glad that he had another factor for his argument about getting personal access to the armoury, Rick checked out his Colt and took a spare too, registering everything on the clipboard, including the ammunition. Though it could be a pain in the ass doing so, he knew it was essential to keep track of how much ammunition was being used and by who. Checking that Olivia wasn't looking, Rick brushed his hand over Carrie's shoulder as he left, letting his fingertips trail down her bare arm. He didn't look back to see her reaction, nor did he say anything, knowing that the gesture alone was flirtation enough.

He was halfway past the solar panels when he slowed down to a stop, starting to feel light headed. Standing in the middle of the street, he closed his eyes and looked up at the clear blue sky, trying to get himself together. His shoulder's beginning to lurch, he clenched his throat and somehow managed to choke down a sudden bout of nausea, his head spinning as his body swayed. Groaning to himself, and tasting bitter acid in the back of his throat, Rick began questioning his intentions. Exhausted, sore and nauseas…his body was telling him to slow down, that he wasn't up to the task of another full day of work. He ought to go home and rest…though it was barely nine o'clock, he ought to call it a day.

Pushing onward, he stopped at the tap outside Rosemary's house and took a small sip of water to rid himself of the taste in his mouth. A few more mouthfuls of coffee and he would be alright. Besides, there was too much work to be done that day, too many tasks he had to complete. Breathing in the fresh air outside the gates, which despite being the same air as inside always felt different, he set about making his first round of the walls before venturing a little deeper into the woods. The others weren't due to meet him out here until ten o'clock, and so with a little time to spare he sipped at his travel mug of coffee as he looked around. Both assessing the most suitable areas for the Walker traps and checking that there were no groups of them building up, Rick made two more laps before he passed a Walker he actually had to take out.

As if to remind him of what a shit start to the day he already had, the Walker proved a little more difficult that unusual. He wrestled with it a few moments before managing to plunge his knife up through the base of the skull, and though he had set his coffee aside, he managed to kick it over in the process. With old blood dripping down his fingers, he watched the liquid gold spilling across the ground, the lid having completely broken off. He swore loudly, finding satisfaction by kicking the mug. Taking a few moments to feel sorry for himself, he glared at the Walker before eventually putting the broken plastic into his satchel. Though the lid was broken, the cup itself could still be used…very little was thrown away these days, and there was another use for almost anything.

Though his day didn't exactly get easier, perhaps the fresh air and coffee was helping, for as he and the others got into the swing of things, his body stopped protesting so much. A group of twelve met him at the walls at nine thirty, consisting of a mixture between his people and Alexandrian's who had volunteered to help cut down tree branches to start building Walker traps. This was the first step in getting them on board for the bigger picture, the notion of building Walker traps simple and easy for them to process…it was the idea that people were a threat that they struggled to understand.

Letting Abraham and Tobin take the lead in directing people into various roles, Rick forced himself to get to work. Sticking with Glenn, who for once was not nursing a hangover, he focused his energies on each tree branch he had to cut down, glad that unlike at the prison, this time they didn't have to climb the trees. With the luxury of long handled tree saws, the task was no more difficult than concentrating and sawing, though Rick soon began struggling with both of these aspects. While he hadn't consumed enough alcohol to consider this a hangover, he was suffering the effects of something.

Despite the way a physical task like this normally allowed Rick to switch his mind off and relax, today it had the opposite effect. Unable to stop thinking about it, he spent the entire morning dwelling on Carrie, enjoying the memories that came from their time together. He couldn't stop thinking about how perfect she looked with her lips wrapped around his erection, about the way she kissed him in the darkness when they'd had sex again in the middle of the night. They'd nearly been caught last night, Rick highly aware that if he had left one article of clothing in Carrie's bedroom, Carl would have figured out everything…but on the other hand, it was fun sneaking around with Carrie, exhilarating even. Part of the reason he'd so willingly sought her ought last night was to provide himself with an escape from his responsibilities, from the burden of so many people depending on him…he hadn't expected that to cause distraction the next day.

Thinking about her the whole morning, Rick began to worry. When he'd asked her if he could stay the previous night, a part of him was hoping that she would say no, that she'd kick him out and thus curb the new type of desire he was beginning to feel for her. He knew even as he asked that it would be a mistake to spend the night with her, that it would send both of them the wrong message…friends with benefits didn't spend the night with each other. But with Carl staying at Ron's house, it seemed like such a shame to waste their opportunity. Still, in hindsight he knew that he shouldn't do that again, despite how much he had enjoyed falling asleep next to her, his hand resting on her hip as he listened to her slow breathing.

They were friends with benefits…they were not in a relationship. He reminded himself of this constantly.

Yet the more he reminded himself of this, the more certain he was in the knowledge that he was investing more into this than he ought to be. He shouldn't need to remind himself that this was only casual sex, he should know it already. While he'd never been one for casual sex, despite Shane's enthusiastic encouragement of it, Rick hadn't been expecting it to be this difficult. Was it normal for someone in his situation? Was it normal for him to constantly have Carrie on his mind, not just worrying about how well she was settling in, but about her safety, her plans to be a supply runner…hell, he found himself constantly wondering what she was doing, whether she was enjoying her day. It was stupid thoughts like that that constantly crossed his mind, interspersed with even stronger thoughts of her sexually…when were they going to have sex again? Where would it be? What would be the mood?

"What's wrong?" Glenn asked bluntly.

"What do you mean?"

"You look mad at something. Did the tree offend you?"

Rick was mad at something…himself. "No, the tree did not offend me."

"Then what are you mad at?"

"Nothing," he grunted, beginning to saw at the branch a little more furiously.

"You don't look very well."

Rick cringed at the comment. Glenn was right, he was indeed feeling pretty unwell again. "Thank you," he muttered sarcastically, feeling bad for his sharp words the moment they left his mouth. He glanced at Glenn from the corner of his eye, knowing he spoke only out of concern. "Sorry. I think I'm just feeling my age."

"Tell me about it…I'm only twenty four, and already I wake up looking forward to my afternoon nap."

Rick scoffed at this. "Come talk to me when you're pushing forty."

"So, is thirty eight the new seventy? I'm just saying," he joked when Rick glared at him. "Bob's more spritely than you today, and he's nearly twice your age."

"Oh yeah?" Rick said playfully. "Is Bob out here cutting down trees in this heat? No? Then shut up."

Sympathetic, Glenn just chuckled as he took over from sawing, giving Rick reprieve and letting him take watch of their area instead. "You shouldn't be this crabby. Not after last night."

"Last night?" he enquired, taking a sip from his water bottle. Scanning the woods, he was glad that they were so far undisturbed. As the small sip of water reached his stomach he grimaced in discomfort…he really ought to go home. He would…just not yet.

"Yeah. Come on Sherlock. Half an hour after you left with Judith, Noah spills his beer on Carrie, and she goes home to change her shirt…guess who didn't come back for beer pong?"

"So?"

"Just saying…a man who was alone with his girlfriend las-"

"Glenn," he growled angrily, protesting the use of that word.

"Fine. A man who was alone with a woman should not be this crabby the following morning."

Sighing, Rick pressed his hand to his stomach, begging his body to not betray him. "Keep that observation to yourself, alright?" he muttered grumpily.

Thankfully Glenn seemed to pick up on the idea that conversation was not welcome at the moment, and though the silence was comfortable, Rick couldn't help but still be annoyed. His thoughts kept reverting back to Carrie with alarming frequency, and it was becoming a problem. He had other things to worry about. There was the expansion, Walkers, safe houses, gun training, the surveillance system, the gardens, impending supply runs…Deanna. It was important that he managed to stay on top of all these things, that he be up to speed and ensure that everything was running smoothly. It was no small wonder that when he had rejected his own leadership at the prison that the others had formed a council…there was a lot to worry about, particularly when it felt like you were up against your own people. While he knew that no one expected him to be on top of everything in Alexandria, the problem was that he did…he was the one putting the pressure on himself, feeling that if he didn't take care of things, no one would.

"Glenn…have you ever done the friends with benefits thing?"

The question came from his mouth before he could even think about it, Rick unconsciously trying to stop worrying about at least one thing. The sawing sound from the branch stopped just as Glenn started laughing, sounding highly amused. Keeping watch, Rick checked their surroundings before looking back at Glenn, his expression indicating that he was being serious.

Glenn frowned. "You're not joking?"

Rick shook his head. "No, I'm not."

"Oh…" he said, beginning to look a little shy. "No, I've never done friends with benefits…not for lack of trying. Why?"

"No reason," he answered shortly, hoping that Glenn would drop it. Dammit…if he couldn't ask Glenn how the intricacies of these things worked, then who? Abraham? Daryl? He didn't think he could stand the smug looks he would receive.

"Come on, you can tell me."

"I said, no reason."

With a long sigh, Glenn got back to work, the sound of the saw working against the branch resuming. A short while later the branch fell, and while Glenn got to work starting on another, Rick took out his machete and hacked off the smaller growths from it. Satisfied, he picked up one end and started dragging it over to their pile. The others would be by with one of the pick up trucks soon enough, and they could be the ones burdened with lifting it. Dragging the branch, Rick dropped it alongside the others with a long sigh. He stood doubled over for a few moments, holding his stomach as he started to think maybe he had indeed had too much to drink last night…he wasn't as young as he used to be. That must be the problem, he'd had too much to drink.

"You okay?" Glenn called out, pausing to look back at him.

Standing up straight, Rick nodded and raised his hand to brush off his concern, trying to ignore the way his stomach was clenching. Trying to resume his post on watch, he managed to make it two steps before he was forced to acknowledge that he was done for the day…there was no stopping it this time. Putting his hand against a nearby tree, he bent over and puked, coughing pathetically as Glenn came rushing over. Furious with himself, and for the way his body refused to cooperate with him, he sagged against the tree and puked again, retching at the vile taste.

Carol was right. He had literally worried himself sick.

* * *

A/N I hope you enjoyed - next chapter is a scene many have been looking forward to!


	13. Chapter 13

Welcome to Chapter 13. There are a few changes of POV, and one of them occurs a few hours in the past. Try not to rush through the chapter too quickly, and it should be fine.

* * *

Given the way Carrie had fallen asleep with Rick warm against her back, waking up without him the next morning didn't feel like the best start to the day. She was alone when the sound of Judith crying woke her, and the cold sheets behind her were cold, signalling that Rick had been gone for a little while already. The morning greeted her with a head ache, and she grunted as she clumsily reached over to the opposite nightstand where he had left the baby monitor behind. Fumbling with it, she pressed a few buttons before managing to turn it off, bringing her the silence she needed to hear. Laying her head back down, she rubbed her face as she assessed the depth of her hang over, grateful that Rick had made her drink some water the night before.

She closed her eyes and rested a little more, and it was a little after six o'clock when she got out of bed and dressed, listening to the sound of running water from the master en suite while she ate a quick breakfast. She couldn't help but picture Rick up there, remembering how good he had looked last night in her own shower, his hair plastered down and his chest covered in a thick lather of bubbles. Noting that he sure was taking his time up there, she couldn't help but wonder if he was getting up to something, if he was…Shaking her head from those thoughts, which wouldn't help her concentrate on her work, Carrie put some hot water in the sink and began washing the few dishes that where there. Judging by the plastic bowl of dried oatmeal and empty coffee mug, Rick had already been downstairs to feed Judith. Ensuring that the kitchen was clean and tidy, she grabbed her things and headed for the pantry, leaving just as the sound of running water from upstairs stopped.

The Pantry door had been left open the previous night, allowing Carrie to get inside and start her work without disturbing Olivia. It was a good thing too, given the state of her when she came out, her complexion grey and her eyes bloodshot. Whimpering occasionally, Olivia dealt with her hang over while Carrie worked on the inventory, compiling some graphs and making notes of the supplies that needed to be used soon or that were quick to diminish. Quickly entering her happy place, she was pleasantly surprised to find that the time passed quickly, her concentration broken only by Olivia's offer to make a greasy hang over breakfast and then Rick's arrival.

Having flirted with him when he came to get his guns, Carrie felt positively giddy, definitely riding on the high that came following fantastic sex. For the most part, her day was going great. Not content to be cooped up anymore, she limited her time working on the inventory and residents' supply history, not wanting this to be her only task. Though the last thing she wanted to do was face them, Carrie ventured out of the Pantry and said hello to a few of the other women, smiling and making all the right small talk. Just like Rick had assured her, these women were happier pretending that nothing had happened, and for that she was grateful. As if nothing had gone so embarrassingly wrong last night, they chatted about how the party had wound down the previous night, filling Carrie in on the various antics of those a little more inebriated.

Carl passed her while she was outside talking, his expression making him look as though he was heading towards his execution, not his first day back at school. Watching him coming up the road on his crutches with Rick's old hat on his head, Carrie could tell that although Carl was glad to be hanging out with his friends, he would have much rather been outside the walls helping the others. From what she had heard they were some tree branches being cut down to make the same type of spike system they had at the prison…Carrie had to agree with Carl that she'd rather be outside the walls, particularly when she saw that his teacher was Stacey.

"Hey," he greeted her as he walked past, stalling a little while the others went on ahead of him. "Did you see my dad again last night?"

"Yeah," she said, not exactly lying. "He didn't mind that you stayed over at Ron's. He said something about getting the whole bed to himself."

"Cool," he muttered, giving a long sigh as he looked down the road between the townhouses and infirmary. The garage door to their school was wide open, the younger kids beginning to depart while Ron, Mikey and Enid waited patiently.

"Go," she told him encouragingly. "Pretend. It's only four hours."

Grumbling to himself, Carl farewelled her and headed off. Taking note of the time, Carrie excused herself from the others and returned to the Pantry. Passing by the school on the way, she glanced in and saw Carl sitting on one of the desks, swinging his legs and laughing at something…it appeared going to school wasn't quite as awful as he made it out to be. Relaying her plans to Olivia, Carrie grabbed the small folder she was working on and packed it into her bag along with her laptop, deciding she would work on the front porch for the rest of the afternoon. She was halfway home when the sound of her name caught her attention, and when she turned around she found Deanna following her.

"Carrie!" she called out, waving at her to slow down.

Though she smiled as she came to a stop, Carrie's heart began to speed up a little. Last night Rick had warned her that Deanna might be going to ask her about what happened on the supply run, specifically the morning after they led the herd away. To say that she was taken by surprise was an understatement, and she was grateful that Rick had warned her…if Deanna had sprung that on her with little warning, she didn't know how well she would have reacted. Even so, she wasn't sure of how to approach this.

"Hi, Deanna," she smiled, putting on the necessary facade. "How are you?"

To her relief, it seemed that for now Deanna was more concerned with making polite small talk, though she should have known they wouldn't discuss a sensitive subject in the middle of the street. A few minutes passed as they exchanged some pleasantries and discussed how the party wound down, and it was then that Deanna made her intentions clear.

"Could I tempt you with a pot of coffee at my place?" Deanna asked charmingly. "I have desserts left over that no one took home, and I'd like to see how you're settling in."

"Of course," Carrie readily agreed, for a refusal wouldn't have been of any benefit. "That would be nice, thank you."

"Excellent. Shall we say, twenty minutes?"

"That's good for me," she smiled politely. "I'll see you soon."

Taking her leave, Carrie turned away and headed home, briefly closing her eyes the moment she had her back to Deanna. She sent a silent prayer of thanks to Rick, grateful that he had warned her this was coming, regardless of what little information he had given. Deanna had phrased her request in such a way that had she been oblivious to the truth, Carrie wouldn't have known what was coming. If the subject of Granger and that encounter had been brought up without warning, she wasn't sure how she would have reacted, or what she would have said. Her head was spinning, and perhaps wondering if she'd have time to track down Rick and quickly speak to him, she crossed the patio and entered her new home with a sigh of relief.

"The floor's wet," Carol called out the moment the front door opened.

"Oh, sorry," she said hastily, looking down at the floor beneath her feet. She breathed a sigh of relief, seeing that Carol hadn't mopped there quite yet. "I didn-"

"That's alright," Carol nodded, glancing up as she put the mop back into the bucket and wrung it out. "I haven't done the hallway or upstairs yet, so you can go up if you need. Is everything okay? You look a little pale."

Carrie hesitated, a little unsure actually. "Yeah," she nodded. "Deanna wants to see me about something, that's all."

Nodding Carol continued with the cleaning. "I was worried you were coming down sick too."

"Too?" she asked, taking her boots off and leaving them outside the door.

"Rick came home about twenty minutes ago, he's not very well."

"Oh no," she muttered. "Is he puking?" she asked tentatively, her concern for him slowly turning into self-concern…she was a sympathetic vomiter.

Carol nodded, giving a grim smile. "When I checked on him last, he was hugging the toilet bowl. I told him this would happen if he didn't slow down."

"It's not food poisoning? Stomach flu?"

"I don't think so, but I'm cleaning just in case. At least this will force him to take some time off and rest." Carol looked at her now, giving her a friendly smile. "He works too hard."

"Yes, he does," she agreed, slinging her bag back over her shoulder and heading upstairs. As she left, she glanced over her shoulder as Carol got back to cleaning the floors, still wondering what to make of her. Carol had been friendly and welcoming to her, but she still felt as though she was yet to earn her approval.

Though she was sympathetic to Rick's suffering, she was immensely glad that his bedroom door was closed, that she couldn't hear anything going on in his bathroom. If she heard him puking, she'd probably start doing the same. Retreating into the safety of her own bedroom, she set her bag onto the chair and then lay down on her bed. As if knowing Rick was unwell made her nerves even worse, she could feel her stomach churning uncomfortably, apprehensive for the impending conversation with Deanna.

Feeling anxious, she closed her eyes and tried to think, wishing that Rick wasn't unwell. When he'd told her about Deanna's intentions the previous night, they didn't get the chance to really talk about it, given that she hadn't exactly taken the news well. He'd asked her to tell the truth about what he had done, to be frank with Deanna and admit that he had killed three people…but as for Granger, he'd left that open for her. He'd said that it was her choice about how much she shared with Deanna, and that she didn't have to tell her anything if she didn't want to. This was now the second time he'd told her that she didn't owe Deanna anything, that it was up to her how much information she should share.

Twirling her hair around one finger, she took a deep breath as she tried to figure this out, but it was difficult to get her thoughts straight. Problem was, not only had Rick asked for her discretion given that neither of them were meant to know about Deanna's enquiries, he was also the only one who knew about Granger. While he was close with the others, and no doubt they each harboured secrets for one another, Carrie trusted his integrity, confident that he hadn't shared her history with anyone else. That did leave her in a difficult position however…she had no one to talk to right now, no one to give her guidance.

To answer Deanna's enquiry truthfully, she would have to tell her what had started the fight between the two groups, that she'd encountered the absolute last person on earth she wanted to see. But could she tell Deanna about what happened with Granger and his group? Even the thought of verbalising what had happened was difficult to comprehend, let alone actually doing it. When she told Rick at the prison, when she'd admitted that she had killed more people than she originally told him, and why, it had felt different. At that stage, that part of her life had been closed for a long time, she was almost numb to it by then…but now? With Granger's reappearance and the subsequent fight, the wounds were a little fresher.

Again cursing Rick's ill health, she buried her face into her pillow, wishing that he was there. He would know what to say, he'd be able to tell her how to handle it. Yet despite the fact that he requested she tell the truth, the idea that she tell Deanna what he had done felt rather underhanded, like she was throwing him to the wolves or something. She felt a surge of anger, and for a moment she literally had to talk herself down from the desire to confront Deanna about it all…she couldn't admit that she knew this conversation was coming. But it grated on her nerves…if Deanna asked her what Rick had done, she would be putting Carrie in an awful position. She'd literally be asking her to comprise the person who had saved her life, who had saved her more than once.

Sitting upright, Carrie took a few deep breaths as her thoughts began to arrange themselves, and she slowly came to a realisation. Rick kept telling her that she didn't owe Deanna anything…she wasn't indebted to her. Deanna had no right to ask what happened on the supply run - she hadn't been there, she didn't know what that world was like, and with this realisation came frustration. Why the hell couldn't she ask Rick herself what had happened? Deanna seemed like a woman who could handle her own people…why wasn't she asking Rick this herself?

Talking herself down from her momentary surge of frustration, Carrie got to her feet and straightened the comforter on her bed, the simple act of moving her body helping her think. If she was fit and well she would have gone for a run right now, the physical exertion always helping her think, and so she began bustling around her bedroom, keeping her hands busy as she thought. She couldn't go into this coffee date without a plan of some kind, a strategy. Though she trusted and respected Deanna, perhaps this was an opportunity for more than one of them to satisfy the need for greater understanding. Though she'd only been there a few days, Carrie certainly had some questions for Alexandria's leader, and some home truths that she might be able to deliver.

Feeling a little more prepared, she washed her face and then neatened her hair, looking into the mirror. It was nice to finally recognise herself…it was even nicer to recognise the expression on her face. The woman in the mirror was not a shrinking violet or a wallflower. She knew how to stand up for herself, how to stand her ground and passionately argue a case until her throat was hoarse. Deanna's only advantage here was authority, her status…Carrie had no reason to be apprehensive to face her.

Still immensely glad that Rick had forewarned her, Carrie took a deep breath and then departed, prepared for almost anything.

* * *

Slowly rousing from a heavy sleep, Rick's eyes fluttered open to reveal darkness, the absence of light gently easing him back into consciousness. Dimly aware that he was warm and comfortable, he lay as he was for a short while, eventually lifting his head to look at his alarm clock. It was after eight o'clock in the evening, and as this occurred to him he glanced into Judith's crib beside his bed…she wasn't there.

Giving a long groan, he sat up and moved to the edge of the bed, hunched forward as he let himself adjust to the change. His mouth was dry and his head sore, the lingering queasiness in his stomach warning him against trying to take a drink from the water bottle that sat innocuously on his nightstand. He vaguely recalled that he had spent all afternoon puking his guts up, his stomach heaving until there was nothing left except his own frustrations. He didn't have the time to be sick, he didn't have the time to spend the day in bed, and yet there he was, unable to do a damn thing about it.

Getting to his feet he rubbed his eyes as he shuffled into his bathroom, and he cringed as he turned on the light. Heading straight to the sink, he throughly washed his face and splashed a little water over the back of his neck, conscious of the dried sweat on his skin. Though he wanted to stand hunched over the sink listening to the running water, he forced himself upright again and brushed his teeth, noting that Carl and Judith's toothbrushes were missing. He had no doubt he had been quarantined from the rest of his family, and when he finally emerged from his bedroom he was unsurprised to find a hand drawn warning sign on the door…signed by Carl. Glad his son could find amusement in his sufferings, Rick slowly made his way downstairs, blearily rubbing the back of his neck as he saw that no one else was home. Detecting the strong smell of disinfectant, he noted that Carol had been cleaning. No doubt she'd been hoping to nip any stomach flu right in the bud, and he appreciated this…he didn't want to make anyone else sick. Dwelling on this, he headed for the refrigerator and grabbed a can of soda, his body telling him he needed sugar and bubbles.

Seeing a silhouette out on the front porch, he dared to try some fresh air, longing to feel it on his skin. He wasn't used to being cooped up inside the way he had been. These days he was quick to grow restless, always feeling like the safety and comfort of his home kept him from achieving the things he and his group needed. Sipping at the soda, he stepped out the front door and breathed in the fresh air, glad that his stomach seemed settled for now. It was Carol who he had seen through the window, and she sat reading a book with a glass of wine, enjoying the peace and quiet of the evening.

"Where is everyone?" he enquired, slumping down onto one of the chairs. Being considerate, he chose the one far away from Carol, just in case.

"Avoiding you," she answered, placing a book mark in the page and then closing her book. "They all went next door for dinner, and they're still there."

It didn't escape his notice that Carol had stayed home to be around for him. "Carl and Judith?"

"They're staying the night," she assured him. "Judith's already asleep in Glenn and Maggie's room, and Carl's going to take the sofa bed. Last I checked, he and Noah were watching Men in Black."

"It'll be good practice for Glenn and Maggie," he smiled, he and Carol being the only ones who knew of Maggie's pregnancy. "Thanks for not making me go to the Infirmary," he muttered, knowing that's normally where those unwell were expected to be quarantined.

"Well, I figured you'd only go kicking and screaming. No one was willing to wrestle you."

Unamused, Rick closed his eyes and put his head back, already feeling like he needed to go back to bed. "No one else is sick?"

"No. I don't think you're contagious."

"Well, thank you Dr Peltier," he joked.

Carol raised her eyebrows at this. "You want me to bring around the real doctor?"

"Sorry," he apologised meekly, not liking her threat. "Carl went to school?"

"Under protest, but yes." There was a short pause, Carol taking a sip of her wine. "You know, I don't like to say I told you so, b-"

Rick scoffed at this.

"But I did tell you so."

"Yeah, yeah," he muttered, knowing she was right. She'd told him to take the day off, to get some rest before he made himself sick, and he had just brushed off her concern, not wanting to slow down.

"You need to recover from the supply run. You've only been back three days…four counting today."

"I know."

"Everyone else has had time to recover, except you," she continued lecturing. "You're staying home for a couple of days."

Rick raised his eyebrows at her. "Oh, am I?"

"Yes, you are. I've asked Olivia to not check out your weapons, and the watch shifts know not to let you out of the gate. You're staying home and resting."

"I just need a good night's sleep," he muttered, trying to remember the last time he had one of those, a full night of uninterrupted sleep. "That's all."

"You're staying home tomorrow," Carol said sternly, unafraid of telling a grown man what to do. "Besides, it's Wednesday tomorrow. You need to be better for Spaghetti Tuesday."

He groaned at this, the mere thought of Spaghetti Bolognese making his stomach churn uncomfortably. Though he was reluctant to admit it, perhaps Carol was right…

"Maggie's going to take Judith tomorrow. The work outside the walls will keep going, with or without you."

"I know," he said reluctantly, pushing his hair off his face.

"Then why the urgency to always be out there?"

Rick didn't reply, not knowing how to explain everything that weighed on his mind. How was he supposed to explain the irrational fear that if he didn't achieve everything as soon as possible, something terrible would happen? He used to believe that there would always be time in the future, but with the understanding that there might not be, he found himself all the more determined to make things happen immediately. Realistically he knew it was not possible, particularly when it concerned the Alexandrian's adaptation to the new world, but still the need for it lingered.

"I'll take tomorrow off," he agreed, albeit reluctantly.

"Thank you," she said, as if he was doing her a favour, and not himself. "Deanna and Carrie spoke today."

"Oh?" he said, only mildly interested.

"About what happened the morning after the herd."

"Probably."

Knowing her well, Rick could tell that his nonchalance was grating on Carol's nerves, that she wished he showed more concern than he was presently. Thinking back on their argument about this very subject, he felt guilty for going against Carol's wishes, having warned Carrie about Deanna's line of enquiry. They'd reached an impasse on their argument about whether or not Carrie was entitled to forewarning, and whether or not knowing would influence how much truth she shared. While Rick argued that the conversation with Deanna was not indicative of Carrie's loyalty, Carol disagreed…strongly. Now that the conversation had occurred and Carol was bringing it up, Rick wondered exactly what had been said. Though he'd asked Carrie for her discretion about his warning, he worried that something she had said would indicate to Carol that he had gone behind her back. Though he normally made no apologies for doing what he thought best, this occasion felt particularly deceitful.

"How did it go?" he enquired, validating Carol's desire that he be interested.

"I haven't listened to it yet."

"Then how do you know it happened?"

"She was only gone for half an hour. If it was a normal coffee date, she would have stayed longer.

He sighed, looking at Carol from the corner of his eyes. Though she was completely relaxed in her chair, he could tell that she was on tenterhooks. Feeling bad about it all, he thought about how Carol had looked after his children and made arrangements for them that day, how she'd brought him water and sympathy while he'd been hugging the toilet bowl. "You want to listen to it now?"

"It can wait," she said kindly.

He shook his head. "No, it can't," he disagreed, despite the churning in his stomach. Sitting up properly, he sighed again before standing. "Set it up, I'll be ten minutes."

Though he didn't like to be wasteful, he discarded the rest of the soda down the sink, unable to stomach anymore and knowing that no one else should risk drinking from the can. He headed upstairs and began taking a cool shower, taking the opportunity to freshen himself up and get rid of the dry sweat that had settled on his skin. Thinking about the day, he wondered just how much they had achieved outside the walls. When they had made the spikes at the prison, it had taken over two weeks of them working on the task from sun up to down down, hindered by the few opportunities to be outside the fences while there weren't Walkers about. Once they had enough branches to work with, the actual construction of the spikes had only taken a few days. With the hardware and manpower in Alexandria, the task shouldn't take longer than that.

Still dwelling on the day, Rick wondered about Carrie, still glad that her injured leg generally kept her from venturing far outside the walls. He knew that soon enough she'd be going on supply runs and taking watch for the construction crew, but for now it was comforting to know that she was sticking close to Alexandria. On that note though, Rick knew he was starting to be over protective, and that he had no reason or right to be so. Carrie had always been capable of taking care of herself, and he was not supposed to care so deeply about her welfare that he tried to find excuses to make her stay…even though some had crossed his mind.

Knowing that Carol was waiting for him, Rick finished up quickly and entered his bedroom. Upon finding her sitting on the bed waiting for him, he was glad he'd put the towel around his waist.

"Sorry," she apologised, averting her eyes. "I didn't think…"

He just grunted, not concerned. They'd all seen each other in various states of undress, an unavoidable reality of life at the prison and various months on the road. Heading into the expansive walk in closet, he dressed in there, choosing another set of sweat pants and tee shirt…as he dried his hair he looked around the closet, and even in there he managed to find something to worry about. He thought of the gun he had hidden up top, hoping that Carl never found occasion to use it…and then there was Judith, her pretty summer dresses making him worry about the following winter. Would they have enough warm clothes for her? What if she got ill and they didn't have the right medicine? What if she came down with bronchitis or pneumonia?

It was no wonder he had made himself sick.

Having hung up his towel and brushed his teeth, Rick returned to the bedroom where Carol was waiting. "How long did they talk for?" he asked again.

"About half an hour," she answered, hitting a few buttons on the laptop and then adjusting the volume.

"Shit," he muttered, slipping the headphone into his ear. Slumping down beneath the covers he made himself comfortable. "Wake me if I fall asleep."

Carol pressed the back of her hand to his forehead, feeling for a fever. "We can do this tomorrow," she reminded him.

"No, tonight." He wanted this over with, for Carol to stop holding Carrie at arms length and stop treating her like she wasn't one of the group. "Hit play," he prompted.

When she started the recording, the distant sound of voices was what they first heard, and after recognising Carrie's, Rick figured they must be sitting out on the terrace. Hoping that Deanna didn't close the doors at any stage, Rick reluctantly sat up and gestured for the laptop, giving a heavy sigh as he began adjusting some of the settings. It took a couple of tries, having little experience with surveillance operations, but a minute later the two voices became clear enough for them to listen to properly.

"Milk? Sugar?" Deanna asked.

Rick knew what Carrie's response was going to be, and he wasn't wrong. She'd drink her coffee black and unsweetened, but not if she had other options.

"Yes please, to both."

Passing the laptop back to Carol, Rick returned to his former position with his head upon his pillow, willing himself not to fall asleep as they began to listen attentively.

* * *

Her hands politely clasped in her lap, Carrie waited as Deanna poured the coffee into her tea cup, getting the feeling that she enjoyed the opportunity to break out the nice china. She'd brought out a whole tray laden with a tea pot, cups, sugar bowl and creamer, the fine china rather pretty. Perhaps Deanna thought that Carrie's wealthy upbringing had accustomed her to such luxuries, that her family was one that wore only high end clothing and drove expensive cars…she wasn't wrong.

"Milk? Sugar?" Deanna offered.

"Yes please, to both."

Taking her seat, Deanna smiled as they began making small talk, each of then indulging in a piece of caramel shortbread left over from the party. Though the conversation hadn't yet started, Carrie knew she felt in control, that she was ready for this. She had a lot to say today, her only concern was whether or not she ought to say it all. Earlier she had felt rather nervous about the whole thing, but she'd never let herself down in a situation like this…she knew how to handle this.

"Well, Carrie," Deanna began a few minutes later, sitting adjacent to her at the table. She put her cup onto the saucer and looked at Carrie intently, clasping her hands on the table top. "I'm not going to do you the disservice of treating you like a fool. I think it's time I got to the point."

"I think that's a good idea."

"I'd like to talk to you about something that happened on the supply run. Something involving Rick."

Letting a few moments pass before responding, Carrie looked Deanna in the eye. She was a formidable opposition, though not in a bad way. "If it involves Rick, I take it you've spoken to him?"

"No, I haven't."

"Well then I'm surprised with you," she replied, her tone even and pleasant. "You don't want to treat me like a fool…and yet you are."

It appeared Deanna hadn't expected this straightforward response, and she visibly cringed. "It would appear I am, and for that I apologise."

"You apologise, but you're still going to continue?"

Deanna paused, giving Carrie great consideration. Had she not expected this? Had she not expected resistance?

"It's about the morning after you and Rick led the herd away, after you saved the entire group. I've heard conflicting reports as to what happened."

"Such as?" Avoiding an answer, Carrie instead turned it back to Deanna, wanting to determine what she already knew.

"That you returned with weapons and supplies, but that you denied any wrong doing."

"That's correct," she stated. "What's conflicting about that?"

"Rick admitted to Aidan that he killed people for those supplies. Is that true?"

Carrie frowned, pretending to be perplexed. "You just said Rick admitted it."

Taking a sip of her coffee, Deanna's expression gave away no hint of frustration, indicating to Carrie that she was not at all bothered by her evasiveness. "You were there, you were a witness. I'd like to hear your side of the story. Your opinion of what happened."

Delivering her answer bluntly, Carrie wanted to ensure there was no room to question. "You're not entitled to my opinion."

"I am entitled to fact."

"No, you're not. You weren't there, so you don't have any right to sit in judgement of what happened."

"I'm not in judgement, and you're right, I wasn't there," Deanna agreed.

There was a brief pause, the two women considering each other's responses, trying to anticipate where this conversation would take them.

"Why haven't you talked to Rick about this?" Carrie enquired, curious as to her reasons.

A small smile crossed Deanna's face, and she took another sip of her coffee before she answered, taking time to think. "Rick and I…we both have agendas. While we trust one another, our trust has a limit."

Copying her smile, Carrie titled her head a little. "Well, I can't help but wonder why that is," she pondered out loud, though she knew the answer.

"Rick considers me to be inept," Deanna explained. "I consider him to be extreme. Those two don't often coincide well."

Recognising the direction of where she could take this, Carrie changed her tact, intentionally making her tone defensive. "So you employ middle school tactics by going behind his back? By asking his friends to rat him out?

Deanna at least had the decency to look ashamed. "I acknowledge, my asking you these things is not a good reflection of my character. I understand that I'm putting you in a very poor position."

"Poor position? I owe my life to Rick, many times over," she stated, narrowing her eyes. "You know that, and yet you still come to me without giving him the chance to defend himself. It's insulting," she concluded harshly. Her chair scraping loudly, Carrie stood up and turned to leave.

"Carrie, wait!" Deanna said urgently, she too standing up and beginning to follow her. "Please, wait."

Her face turned away, Carrie allowed herself a small smile. This was a carefully considered performance on her part, a strategic bluff that was all about putting Deanna on the defence rather than offence. She had done this type of thing many times, bluffing her way through certain business in order to achieve what she needed to. When done right, the threat of walking away from something two parties had worked very hard for could be highly effective.

"Carrie, wait," Deanna repeated. Intercepting her before she could even reach the open doors, Deanna looked at her imperatively. "Thank you."

Quirking her eyebrow, Carrie looked down at Deanna in faux surprise. On the inside she was smug with success…she'd known Deanna three days, and she already knew how to manage her. "Thank you? For what?"

Relieved that she had stopped to listen, Deanna closed her eyes for a brief moment before explaining. "For showing such strong loyalty," she said sincerely, looking Carrie in the eye. "Loyalty is something we need in people, something we need very much."

"So this was a test?"

"No," Deanna shook her head. "I genuinely want to know what happened out there."

"Out there? Shit happens, and theres's no controlling it."

"Yes, I know."

"No, you don't," she rebuked her. "And it's insulting that you presume you do."

"Then tell me what happened that morning," Deanna requested again, her tone urgent. She really didn't want Carrie to leave. "I want this whole thing clarified, and then put to bed."

Considering this, Carrie took a moment to think, knowing Deanna would give her all the time she needed right now. Rick had told her to be honest about the things he had done, but that anything to do with Granger became her decision. What happened with Granger was her story to tell, and hers alone, and frankly she didn't want to share it with anyone. But just as this thought occurred to her, so too did another. Her story of what happened with Granger was an advantage right now, perhaps the only one she had. If sharing that story with Deanna would prove useful, if it would be to her advantage, then she ought to. At the very least it would get Deanna off Rick's back about that morning, giving her a sufficient justification as to why he had killed someone. At best, the knowledge would further her understanding that people were a significant threat…an understanding that Carrie recognised was still developing. Still standing in front of the open patio doors, Deanna trying to block her exit, she reached her decision.

"That morning, Rick and I went searching for gas, and we ran into a man I met last year. He and his group took advantage of me many times over…they raped me," she explained, keeping her tone even and factual. "I had to let them, because it was the only way I could stop them doing the same thing to the rest of my group."

Deanna nodded grimly, following her story and beginning to understand. "I'm sorry that happened to you."

Carrie continued, having not finished. "When Rick and I saw him that morning, he made it very clear to me that the only way I could protect Rick was on my back with my legs open. Obviously, Rick was not in agreement. A fight broke out, and I killed that man."

There was silence for a moment, Deanna taking this in and trying to be tactful in her response. "Who did Rick kill?"

"Three others who were there."

Though it was subtle, Deanna gave a physical reaction to this answer. "He killed three people?"

"He killed three people who were going to kill us."

"You make it sound so simple."

"It was," Carrie lied. To Rick it was simple…to her, it was unfathomable to kill three innocent people on the off chance that they might attack them. While she recognised Rick's logic and determination that he return to his children alive, she was still struggling to come around to this idea. Regardless, she would stand in his defence, particularly when he could not. "It came down to self-defence…pretty simple. The supplies we took from them were just a matter of convenience."

There was a long pause, Deanna looking away from her. Just as she had done before, Carrie gave Deanna time to think, time to mull over what she had just learnt. This was all new to her, particularly the notion that killing in self-defence was commonplace in the world right now. She was very sheltered by the walls that protected she and her community, and right now that naivety had taken a painful hit.

"I'm sorry that happened to you," she said sincerely, looking Carrie in the eye with the intensity that made her feel like she was looking right inside her mind.

"Thanks," she said shortly. Still acting strategically, she took a step to her left and pretended she still wanted to leave.

"No, Carrie wait," Deanna said, placing her hand on her elbow to stop her. "I know I've insulted you, that I've insulted your loyalty to Rick. But please, don't go."

Pleased that her strategy worked, Carrie kept her face impassive as she looked back at Deanna. "Why?"

"Because I feel you have a lot to say to me," she answered, keeping her hand on Carrie's elbow. "And I feel I should be listening. Perhaps it will be to my benefit."

"You don't want to know what I've got to say."

"Oh, but I do," she insisted gently. "Much like you, I've built my career and reputation in a world dominated by men. I've developed quite a thick skin, not unlike yours I suspect. Please, Carrie. Stay a little longer."

"You want to hear what I have to say?"

"Yes. I would appreciate an honest opinion…particularly yours."

Dragging it out, Carrie feigned extensive consideration. "Alright. I'll stay."

Smiling gratefully, Deanna removed her hand from Carrie's elbow and gestured towards the patio table. They returned to their seats, and there was a short pause while Deanna topped up their coffee.

"So, you want to talk about some home truths?" Carrie began gently when she saw Deanna was ready. "I think they'll be difficult for you to hear."

"I would appreciate the truth," Deanna insisted. "Particularly from a woman such as yourself. I value your input, Carrie. I recognise your experience, and not just from outside those walls."

Nodding, Carrie prepared to speak, though she reminded herself to chose her words carefully. There was a line between giving an honest opinion and being a bitch…she'd often struggled with finding that line. "I've been here only three days, so I acknowledge that my experience in Alexandria is limited."

"But?"

"But, I can see a major flaw here. A flaw that, if handled properly, could lead to greatness, or otherwise to Alexandria's downfall. That flaw is you, Deanna."

A flash of surprise appeared on Deanna's face, but she seemed not to be offended or upset. Rather she nodded to indicate that she was listening, that Carrie should go on.

"You're an appeaser. All politicians are, even the good ones. It's your job to find out what people want, and then to advocate for them, to fight on their behalf. You provide these people with the lifestyle they want, and that's admirable," she remarked, not wanting to detract from what Deanna had done for the community. "But what you're doing now? I don't think for one second that you asked me about Rick and that morning because you were worried about what happened."

"Oh?"

"You're intelligent enough to understand that what happens out there is beyond your control and influence. You asked me this to appease Aidan, to give him resolution in the matter. What you don't understand about this world, is that yes, government is going to be important…but politics is not. You cannot appease people anymore, and yet that's what you're doing. I'm sorry to tell you this, but it's not sustainable, or beneficial."

"I agree," Deanna remarked, momentarily taking Carrie by surprise. "You're right. A politician appeases people…but I disagree with your latter remark. I feel it is beneficial. The people in this community needed a normal life, and that's what I've provided for them. It has been of great benefit to them, to their sense of hope, to their willingness to go on."

"But it's only a short term solution. It's an illusion."

"No, this is real life. A real community, with real families, and normal life."

Carrie shook her head. "I know it feels that way, but normal life from before cannot be sustained in this world. You've fostered a delusion in these people, because you needed to provide them with something to cling to. I understand how it started, and how it's gone on for so long. But by not showing them the reality, you're weakening them. There is no benefit in enabling someone's delusion."

Deanna still seemed unconvinced, and there was a short pause in which the two of them sat thoughtfully. Sipping at her coffee, Carrie tried to put herself in Deanna's shoes, to find a way to explain this to her that she'd be willing to listen to…she claimed now that she was willing, and yet she still showed passive resistance.

"I'd like to tell you about something that happened to me," she began, the embarrassed smile crossing her face before she even began. "It was one of the most embarrassing, naive things I've ever done, so please don't tell a soul."

Deanna's body language indicated how intrigued she was, and she leant forward a little. "I promise. Scout's honour."

"Alright," Carrie said sitting back in the chair and holding her coffee cup. "I was twenty seven, and I'd just started a new job, a promotion I'd worked really hard for. But, in the space of three weeks I found out I was pregnant, caught Logan cheating on me again, served him with divorce papers, and then had a miscarriage."

Deanna's expression of amusement faded quickly, turning into one of sincere empathy. "I'm sorry to hear that. It must have been terrible for you."

"It was. It was pretty awful time in my life," she acknowledged. "I needed to do something for me. I needed something that would make me smile, that would brighten my day, even just for a moment. And then on my way to work one day, there it was, sitting in the store window. A plant."

Again, Deanna's expression changed, and she looked at Carrie in mild amusement again. "A plant?"

"Ah huh," Carrie smiled, remembering the feeling it had brought her. "It was such a stupid thing really, a plant. But it made me smile…I'd never appreciated Daisies until that moment. So I bought it then and there, I took it into my new office, and I put it on my desk where I used to have a honeymoon picture. I don't know why, but I was so damn proud of it. I'd never been good with plants, but I had a good feeling about this one."

"Daisies, huh?" Deanna smiled. "I hope you took care of them."

Carrie nodded. "I gave them a little water every Tuesday and Friday morning. It became a ritual, one as important as the way I took my coffee." She paused, feeling her happy memories begin to subside as she came to the crux of the story. "Took me five weeks to realise the plant was plastic."

"O-oh," Deanna said, her eyes widening.

"It's okay, you can laugh," Carrie assured her, sensing that she was trying to withhold it.

At this prompting, Deanna smiled a little, though she didn't laugh. "Plastic, huh?"

"Yeah," she nodded, her cheeks reddening a little. "Turns out I was the only one who didn't know."

"Did the water overflow?" Deanna enquired. "Is that how you realised?"

Carrie shook her head, this bringing them to the whole point. "No, it didn't. I watered it every Tuesday and Friday…and every Tuesday and Friday, my assistant Jen came into my office and emptied the water. Jen knew what I was going through, she knew how much the plant brightened my day, how proud I was that I kept it alive. She thought she was helping me."

"She wasn't?"

"No, not in any way. She let me keep watering a plastic plant," Carrie said incredulously. "She let me do that for five weeks, when she should have just told me the truth. When I eventually figured it out, I was really upset," she confessed. "More upset than anyone should be over a plastic plant. Jen had good intentions, but she let me invest myself in something that wasn't real. By enabling my delusions, she only made it harder for me when it came time to face reality."

There was a pause now, and Carrie watched as Deanna sat back in her chair, considering what had just been said. Carrie didn't need to ask her if she understood what she was trying to say, if she recognised the subtext of how her potted plant applied to Alexandria. Deanna understood what she was being told…the difficulty was going to be in applying it.

"You understand what I'm saying, don't you?" she confirmed, not wanting the silence to stretch on too long.

"Yes, I believe I do. You feel that I'm enabling a fantasy…that your potted plant is an analogy for the future I have promised this community."

Pausing, Carrie considered this. "Yes, but no. The future you talked about last night, the thriving community, the industry, families and life…that can happen. Of course it can. The potted plant is an analogy for what is happening now. The lifestyle you've created in Alexandria is a fantasy…it's not real, but you're letting your people believe that it is. Your heart is in the right place, but you're enabling their delusions, just like Jen enabled mine."

"I don't see how that's a bad thing, Carrie," Deanna said, clearing her throat as she put her coffee cup aside. "Hope is necessary. Without hope, we won't be able to achieve anything."

"Hope is necessary," she agreed. "But so is reality. Your people have to face what's outside those walls. Reality will walk through those walls without invitation, and it will hit you hard. Deanna, you've weakened your people just as much as you've strengthened them. At first this community was about survival, and then when the walls went up, you looked for more than a life of survival, of course you did. But when the walls went up, they hid you from reality. You appease these people…you placate them because they want normal lives again, but you're only enabling their delusions."

"So you're telling me there is no normal life? That it's not possible."

"I never said that," she correct her. "You can have your potted plant, and it can be real…but it's got to be the right kind."

"And what kind would that be?"

"You've got to face reality," she said imperatively. "Your people cannot hide inside these walls forever. The life you lead now is not sustainable. Your people are more worried about book club and art deco bathrooms than they are about knowing how to defend themselves. What's more, is that Alexandria as a whole has no value, no strength."

Deanna raised her eyebrows at this. "I strongly disagree…there is inherent value in life, in people."

"Not if those people are dead weight. You need to start thinking of Alexandria not from a politician's point of view, but as if it were a business," she said, leaning forward as a spark of passion ignited inside her. "What have you got to offer someone else? Nothing. I'm not talking about taking in people and providing for them, I'm talking about other communities."

"Other communities?"

"We are not the only people out here. We already know there's a potentially massive group in Ohio, and there's at least a small group around here carving W's into the foreheads of Walkers. I guarantee, they're not the only other groups around. One day, these communities are going to come knocking on your door, and they're going to want something from you…trade. Right now, you've got nothing to trade, and no significant means of protecting yourself. Think of it like a business," she reminded her. "A business that has no assets, nothing to offer, and a flimsy foundation will not last when there's competition in the market."

"We're planning our assets," Deanna argued politely. "It's my intention that I show you the plans we have, that you can see the future. You know I'd like you to work alongside Maggie and I."

"I'd like that too, but no offence Deanna, Alexandria is stagnate…you're leading them nowhere. You've been here over eighteen months, and aside from the walls, which are an incredible feat, all you've achieved is a book club and a school. Look at the vegetable patch! You've had eighteen months of a five by five garden. Do you expect that to sustain sixty or more people, and provide resources for the future? It's not going to happen, it's not enough."

There was a short pause as Deanna looked at her intensely, but she slowly nodded. "Keep going. What do you recommend?"

"Until you can finally get your assets and resources flowing, until you create an internal food supply, agriculture, infrastructure and skilled trade, you have nothing of value to trade. Given that your community can't defend itself, that shortcoming makes you incredibly vulnerable. It's time to let Rick step up and do the job you brought him here for."

"Which is?"

"He wants to empower Alexandria to protect itself, he wants people to know and understand the world, because that's the only way you will survive long term. Rick will not let you enable the delusions you've created, he won't let you placate and appease people, because he knows better. You got Alexandria this far, but without listening to Rick, what you've achieved is not sustainable. He'll help you manage dead weight."

"Dead weight?" Deanna questioned, sounding a little offended by this. "Are you saying some people here are dead weight?"

"Yes," she said bluntly. "They are. Every business has dead weight…so does Alexandria. Problem is, you've got a lot of it. What does a business do with dead weight?"

Deanna chuckled to herself. "Are you suggesting I lay off half the community?"

Echoing her chuckle, Carrie shook her head. "Never. That would be a neglectful waste of resources, and investment of your time that has no benefit. A business with dead weight should simply redirect it, give it a new opportunity. Rick wants to teach these people, he wants them to take responsibility for their own safety, and to be active participants in the community's safety. There's no room for passive participation."

Seeing that Deanna was dwelling on this, Carrie took pause and let her think, knowing she'd given her a lot to consider. As she too took a moment to herself, she mentally rehashed everything they had just talked about, taking stock of what else she had left to say. This wasn't the end of the conversation, not by far.

"I understand what you're saying," Deanna said slowly, nodding her head. "You've brought up many things for me to consider, many problems to address. Thank you."

"Let's talk about the real problem here, which is you and Rick," Carrie stated bluntly, not ready for the conversation to end. "You're a politician through and through. When you're asked a question, you could spend ten minutes answering it without actually answering it."

Deanna chuckled loudly, nodding her head in reluctant agreement. "Yes, I suppose that's true."

"Rick is not a politician. He's a leader. When someone asks him a question, he answers it and then acts on it if he needs to. There's no bullshit, no spin, no agenda. I think you're afraid Rick might be a better type of leader than you."

Deanna tilted her head a little, pondering this. "And what do you think? Do you think he's a better type of leader than me?"

"Yes, and no," she answered. "You both have strengths, and weaknesses too. On his own, Rick would do a superb job leading this community, but his weakness is perception…he's too experienced for the residents here to connect with, and that's important. For people to trust a leader, they need to feel a connection with them, a sense of understanding and common ground. They feel that connection with you, but not him. Problem is, you are not the right leader without him…and he is not the right leader without you."

"We need each other?"

"Yes, for the time being at least." Considering what she had been talking about, a question posed itself to her. "Are you threatened by Rick?" she asked, continuing when Deanna didn't reply. "I would understand if you were. He hasn't hidden the fact that he is capable of taking over this place if he so desired. I think we both understand that you're the leader because he allows you to be."

"That's…an interesting perspective," Deanna admitted. "And not necessarily incorrect, either."

"I hope you're decision to go behind his back to talk to me isn't an effort to gain some kind of leverage over him."

Deanna sighed, looking Carrie in the eye, and when she spoke she repeated some of Carrie's words from a moment ago. "I think we both understand that trying to gain leverage over Rick is a little ambitious…even for me."

"Yes," she agreed, glad that this was recognised.

Clearing her throat, Deanna sat up a little straighter in her chair. "I'm curious, Carrie…what kind of leader were you for your last group?"

This question took her by surprise, for until now the topic of conversation hadn't really been focused on herself that much. As she always did when struck by a difficult to answer question, she took a breath and thought about it carefully, taking her time to consider what she would say.

"I was the leader by default. It wasn't a case of trust, or even competence," she admitted honestly. "But I was the only one who could ever make a decision and act on it, big or small."

"That must have been difficult for you to manage," Deanna remarked sympathetically.

"It was. They looked to me for answers, and then blamed me for the consequences. I cared for my group…but I didn't love many of them."

Deanna gave a gentle sigh, looking at Carrie kindly. "I wholeheartedly meant what I said at the party. Alexandria is very lucky to have you. I'm very glad we have you here."

"Thank you," she replied. "I'm very glad to be here." A few short moments passed in comfortable silence, and it was then that Carrie was confident that they had talked about everything they needed to. "If it's alright with you, Deanna, I think I'd like to go now."

It was clear to them both that this was not a request.

"Of course," Deanna agreed. "I've kept you from this beautiful weather for too long already. Thank you for speaking with me, for your honesty. I appreciate your…unfiltered thoughts."

"Actually, that was the filtered version."

Not to her surprise, Deanna smiled a little. "And the unfiltered version?"

"Yet to be finalised," she said, echoing her smile. "Thank you for the coffee."

They two of them stood up now, Carrie helping to collect the tea cups and tray. Following Deanna back inside, she deposited it on the kitchen bench, taking notice of how quickly Deanna's home had been cleaned up and restored to normal following the party last night.

"Carrie, it would pain me to know that I've irrevocably insulted you, and your loyalty to Rick," Deanna said as she walked her to the front door. "That was not my intention. I do hope that we're parting today as friends."

Understanding that this remark was really a request for understanding and flexibility on her part, Carrie was willing to afford that. "We are," she said honestly.

"What's friendship without hearty debate?" Deanna joked, opening the front door for her. "One last thing…did you ever get a real plant for your desk?"

Amused by this question, Carrie nodded her head. "Yeah. My boss gave me a miniature cactus the day after I realised what the Daisies were. It was gorgeous, and I didn't have to water it either. But I hated it."

"Oh," Deanna said in surprise. "Why was that?"

"I liked the Daisies. I wanted my delusion."

Sighing, Deanna appeared thoughtful for a moment. "You've given me a lot to think about…thank you."

Nodding, Carrie said nothing more and so began to leave, but she was only halfway through the front door before she stopped again, turning back to Deanna. "Rick is a good man, Deanna. He feels the things he does, the things he has to do. I trust him."

"Yes, of course you do," she agreed. "He saved your life, he protected you."

"More than that," she said, trying to collect her thoughts so that she could properly express them. "After everything that happened to me…after what those men put me through? I was surprised by how quickly and deeply I came to trust Rick. He's a good man," she repeated. "I know you have your differences…I just hope that you can look past them to see who he really is."

Deanna nodded, giving consideration to everything Carrie said. "I hope so too."

* * *

Pulling the earphone out of his ear, Rick gave a long sigh and then looked at Carol. "Satisfied now?"

Doing the same, Carol rubbed her eyes as she stopped the recording. "Satisfied of where her loyalties lie? Yes," she remarked, her tone indicating that she meant this. "Satisfied that Carrie has her head screwed on? Yes, that too."

Looking at her from the corner of his eye, Rick still felt skepticism. "But?" he asked, reaching over to his nightstand. Deciding to risk his queasy stomach, he took a small sip of water.

"But, I still don't know her."

He sighed in exasperation. "Carol, can't y-"

"Don't you have enough to worry about?" she cut him off. Though her tone was abrupt, he could sense her kindness. "Stop worrying about Carrie too. She can take care of herself, she just proved that."

"Will you stop mistrusting her so much?"

"I don't mistrust her…not anymore at least," she said, gesturing to the computer. "She's a straight shooter, even against Deanna. I respect that. But I still don't know how I feel about her, and I have the right to decide that for myself, in my own time. Do I not?"

Rubbing the bridge of his nose, Rick nodded his head, reluctantly agreeing with her.

"Like I said the other day, I've been nothing but kind and welcoming to Carrie, and I'll continue to be that way. She's living with us, I accept that. But it doesn't meant I have to be her best friend."

"Doesn't mean you have to hold her at arms length either," he muttered, wearily laying down onto his pillow.

"I understand why you warned her," Carol said a few moments later, looking amused when he looked at her in surprise. "Of course I know you warned her."

"But you understand why?" he confirmed, thinking of Granger.

"Yes, of course I do. I understand why you wouldn't tell me either."

"Are you mad I told her against your wishes?"

Carol paused, considering this. "No. You had your reasons, and I had mine…it just so happened that you knew more than me. In your position, I would have done the same thing."

Rick looked at her in surprise, having not expected this. With the cold and condescending way Carol usually spoke about the Alexandrian's, and given the way she had been considering Carrie as one of them, he hadn't expected this level of compassion.

"Will you stop worrying what I think about her now?"

"Sure," he nodded. Though Carol would still hold Carrie at arm's length, at least there was a certain level of trust now. Carrie had unknowingly affirmed where her loyalties lay, what she truly thought of Deanna and Alexandria. It had been what Carol needed to hear.

"So, what's going on with you two?" she asked again, having already voiced this question once before.

He sighed, looking up at the ceiling. "We're sleeping together, that's all," he answered. He looked over at her in curiosity. "I'm surprised…I didn't think you'd be interested in my sex life."

Carol didn't laugh like he had expected her too, rather her expression was serious. "I'm worried for you. I don't want you to get hurt."

Looking away quickly, he hastened to assure her. "It's just sex, alright? There's nothing more. You don't need to worry about me."

"Oh, Sunshine," she sighed, placing her hand over his and giving it a gentle squeeze. "We both know you're not that kind of man."

These words hit him much harder than they should have, for he knew what she was saying was true. He'd been thinking about this that very morning, constantly reminding himself that what he had with Carrie couldn't go further than casual sex. It was more difficult than he expected…he had little idea of what boundaries should be in place, what was appropriate and not for a friends with benefits relationship. Carol was right…he wasn't that kind of man. Going into this type of arrangement blind, he might be setting himself up for a fall out he wasn't prepared for.

As if Carol could hear his internal dialogue, she squeezed his hand supportively. "Be careful with your heart, that's all I'm saying." There was a short pause, and he heard the laptop closing before he felt the mattress move as Carol got up. "I'll let you get some sleep."

"Leave it," he said quickly, turning his head to look at her again. He gestured to the laptop…given the depth of everything Carrie had said during her chat with Deanna, he wanted to listen to it again.

Putting the laptop onto the bed within his reach, Carol left their conversation at that and then left, turning off the light in his wardrobe as she passed it by. As she closed the door behind herself, Rick wearily rolled onto his side and opened the laptop again, slipping the earphones into place and then scrolling the recording back to the very start of Carrie and Deanna's conversation. Despite his exhaustion he began listening again, feeling proud of Carrie for the things she had said. Not only had she stood up for herself and put Deanna in her place, she'd delivered some difficult things to hear in a somewhat delicate manner. She'd handled herself well, and clearly knew how to handle a woman like Deanna too…she'd been playing her from the start, and had expertly turned the tables on her.

As he continued listening to the recording for a second time, guilt began to fester in his stomach, knowing that he had crossed a line today. It was one thing to spy on Deanna and her family, but to spy on her conversation with Carrie? That was even worse. He'd broken her trust by intentionally allowing Carol to overhear the truth about what happened with Granger, and he'd broken her trust again by listening to her share even more private information. Carrie had been pregnant once, but it had ended in a miscarriage…deeply private information like that wasn't meant to be spied on, and she'd be righteously furious if she were to ever find out.

With that understanding, Rick reached the end of the recording and then opted to listen to it once more…but he knew he could never tell Carrie that he'd been spied on this conversation.

* * *

A/N - Thanks for reading guys, I hope you really enjoyed this chapter! It took blood, sweat and tears to get it just right, and I'm very, very grateful to AngieB for her help with getting things spot on!

Chapter 14 will include a time jump, but as I am relocating internationally I can't be sure that I will be able to post it on the usual schedule (which would normally be 4th or 5th of June). Depending on how my travel arrangements pan out, I'll either post it earlier or later than usual, so make sure you sign up for the email alerts. Regardless of when 14 is posted, I anticipate Chapter 15 sometime around the 11th or 12th of June.

Thanks for reading, and please don't forget to leave AngieB and I a review!


	14. Chapter 14

When Carrie opened her bedroom drapes on Monday morning she was greeted not by cheery sunlight, but by ominous looking clouds. Disappointed by the impending weather, for there was meant to be a supply run later that afternoon, she pulled back all of the drapes and then opened her windows a little. Like she did every morning, she took the time to look out across the community, most of which she could see from her bedroom window. Today marked exactly one month since her arrival in Alexandria, exactly one month since she had been able to start learning how to live again. Thinking about this, she closed her eyes and took a deep breath, appreciating every aspect of the life she was living.

Having taken the time to appreciate the new life she was living, Carrie turned away from her windows and went about her normal routine. While five weeks since the injury the bruise on her left shin had healed and she was mostly pain free, this change having given her the independence she needed to fully settle into her new routine. She could go outside the walls by herself, she could contribute to the work going on, she could participate in supply runs…but best of all, she could go jogging.

Selecting her workout gear, she dressed appropriately for her morning run, but decided she would forgo wearing her running jacket. Though she ought to wear long sleeves to protect her arms from Walkers, she was quickly growing too hot in it, and she considered this to be a carefully considered risk. Putting her hunting knife in its arm holster, she tied back her short hair and then grabbed her water bottle. There was a long day ahead of her, another supply run scheduled that she would be joining, and she needed the morning jog to get herself warmed up for it, to get the adrenaline pumping and her head in the game.

"Good morning," she greeted Carol and Judith when she entered the kitchen.

"Morning," Carol returned, looking up from her plate of toast. Beside her in the highchair, Judith echoed this greeting in her own way, glancing up at Carrie before turning back to her breakfast. "You heading out for a run?"

She nodded, filling up her water bottle. "I'm not sure how long I'll be," she began, as it was generally expected to give people an idea of when to expect you back. "No more than an hour."

"Depends how your leg holds up?" Carol enquired politely.

"Yeah." Though she agreed, both women knew that it wasn't only her leg that might keep her outside the walls a little longer. "Are Daryl and Carl still out hunting?"

"They'll be back any minute, and then I'd say Daryl will go out again. They're still just taking short trips."

"Good to know," she remarked, for more than one reason. "See you later."

Leaving it at that, Carrie secured the lid on her water bottle before leaving the house. Making a quick pit stop at the armoury, she chatted to Olivia as she secured her Ruger into her shoulder holster before methodically running her hand over it and her knife, reminding herself of where her weapons were located. Since meeting Rick's group seven weeks ago, she'd developed many good habits, and this was only one of them. Ready to leave, she made small talk with whoever was out in the small community, but she kept herself moving. She knew better than to get caught up in conversation with the Alexandrian women, at least not unless she had a goal to achieve.

The request Rick had made of her one month ago, that she start befriending the people here and winning them over…it wasn't exactly enjoyable. Very quickly she had learnt that she had little in common with these people, that for now she could only connect with them on a superficial level, but nonetheless she was doing it. Coffee dates, book club and bottles of wine…that was the depth of the friendship she had developed with these women, but she knew it was what Rick needed her to do. She trusted his judgement, believing that if he thought this would make a difference, then it would. So for that reason, she persevered, pushing herself to keep going back and keep making small talk.

"Hey, Carrie," Spencer greeted her when she climbed the scaffolding to reach the watch tower. "Going for a run?"

"Sure am," she smiled, glancing at the clipboard. With no one on gate duty right now, Spencer was in charge of keeping track of the comings and goings of the residents. Daryl and Carl were still out hunting, and Rick and Michonne must still be making rounds together. No one else was outside.

"You know," he remarked politely. "You can run inside the walls too."

This type of comment was not unexpected, and nor was it the first. "I know," she smiled, opening the trap door and beginning to descend the ladder. "I like it out here."

"Stay safe."

Closing the door above her, Carrie climbed down the short ladder and reached the landing. It was stuffy and dimly lit inside the watch tower stairwell, yet she briskly made her way down them, rolling her shoulders as she went. Stopping at the door that led to the outside, she peered through the newly installed peephole and took a look around, ensuring that it was safe for her to open the door and step outside. Entering the combination into the heavy duty door handle, also newly installed, she opened the door and breathed in the fresh air of freedom.

Closing the door behind her and ensuring that it locked, she raised her hand to Spencer before starting her jog. Considerate of her leg, which despite its recovery still occasionally ached, she stayed slow and gentle, keeping her path on the grass rather than the roads. Every step brought her relief, brought her solace and an opportunity to tune out and focus on something other than the world. She'd forgotten how much she loved this, her enjoyment of exercise having returned to her the first time she had ventured out on her own to take a long, but gentle walk. Since the outbreak, she'd seen her body only as a tool of survival, one that frequently betrayed her any time her care of it lapsed. She'd grown weak and lost weight, having often struggled to give her body what it needed.

That had all changed the moment she had been picked up off the side of the road seven weeks ago. Now, particularly in Alexandria, the ability to care for herself had been regained, and she'd taken frequent advantage of this. Not only had she gained weight, she was growing stronger, her exercise regime having seen to that. As soon as things had settled down after the party and Alexandria went back to its normal routine, Carrie had begun working out with Rosita and Michonne. They started slowly to accommodate the injury on her leg, but they'd made quick work of teaching her how to defend herself without a weapon, how to manage herself during a physical confrontation. Kick boxing had quickly become her favoured work out, enjoying the tactile feel of her body working the bag. It would take more time and experience for her to be able to truly hold her own against someone, but Rosita and Michonne were determined to get her there, as was she.

Making her way around Alexandria's walls, which on occasion felt more like a prison than her home, Carrie quickly began to tune out, her mind going blissfully blank as she focused on working her body, on pushing it just a little. Though she didn't stray too far from the safety of the walls, she caught glimpses of the Walker traps that had been installed a few yards into the woods, pleased to see that they were still highly effective. It had taken them only a few days to cut the tree branches into spikes and install them in the ground, easily capturing many Walkers that had the poor luck of making their way towards Alexandria. If it wasn't the spikes that caught them it was the deep pits that had been dug the previous week. Though she knew exactly where they were, having helped with the digging, she kept a careful watch of her path through the trees, watching out for the yellow flags that warned of their proximity.

The measures that Rick's group had implemented were so far proving to be highly effective. Though it was quite the workload to remove the Walkers from the spikes and dump them into the pits with the others, the watch shifts were saving a lot of ammunition. Plus, given how many Walkers were being caught before they reached the walls, it was much safer for them to be outside the walls in the first place. There was even discussion of perhaps reducing the amount of hours that needed to be spent in the watch tower, particularly given the successful installation of three surveillance cameras. Despite this question, three other platforms had been erected around Alexandria, giving them the option to take watch from each direction. There were plans for more too, for one day being able to have a three hundred and sixty degree view of the world outside their community.

Passing by the walls again, Carrie glanced up to the top and looked at the surveillance camera, the second one that Eugene had successfully hooked up. Though she knew no one was presently watching the surveillance system from the garage, playfully dubbed the Control Room, Carrie raised her hand and waved as she went past. Glenn and the run crew had been busy doing supply runs to electronics stores in order to set up the cameras, the cabling and equipment that had been brought back from Walmart being not quite right for the task. Carrie had only been able to go on the most recent supply run with them, that being the first time anyone had been confident in the recovery of her injury. Though the run went rather well, it was still clear to Carrie that Aidan and Glenn were not working in perfect harmony. As though returning from the supply run had suddenly changed the dynamics of how they worked, it seemed Aidan and Nicholas thought they were the ones back in charge, while it was clear to most that Glenn simply tolerated them. Frankly, Carrie felt Glenn was too patient with them, having formed that judgement a mere five minutes into the first run.

On her second lap of the walls, Carrie encountered Rick, Michonne, Daryl and Carl lingering by the gates, their bulging rucksacks indicating the latter two had a successful hunt. Around the same time she had recovered, Carl had been given the all clear to ditch his crutches, although with stern instructions from Pete to take it easy. While he was indeed taking care of himself, Carl had gladly gone back to accompanying Daryl outside the walls for the occasional hunt, though they never went far. Over his shoulder he carried his very own crossbow, one Daryl had brought back from the supply run with Rick's blessing that Carl learn to use it. The teen had been an eager student, and he used it proudly on the few occasions he and Daryl had gone hunting. He was often found to be practicing it out on the grassed area beside their house, his friends Ron and Mikey always appearing slightly envious.

Rick, Michonne, Daryl and Carl lingered and chatted with one another, but Carrie's attention was on one of them in particular. But with Carl there she didn't let her gaze linger any longer than polite, and she simply gave them a quick wave as she began to pass.

"Carrie," Carl called out. "Drop and give me twenty!"

Groaning, she cursed herself for her recent challenge to Carl, having boasted that she could do more push ups than him. She'd won, although she conceded Carl's leg was still a handicap at the time. Dropping down, she started a couple of push ups just to keep him happy, reminding herself to not challenge him again.

"One…two…three…" she started, giving up a moment later and getting back to her feet. "Eighteen, nineteen, twenty. See yah."

"Cheater."

Grinning, she glanced at Rick as she started back on her jog, pleased to see he was watching her in amusement. Just before they disappeared from sight, Carrie caught sight of he and Carl standing side by side, and she wondered if Rick had any idea that his son copied the way he stood. Though he'd set it aside when they returned from the supply run to Georgia, now that Carl was back outside the walls again he had resumed wearing the duty belt Rick had given him. When he wore it he was often seen with his thumb casually looped around it, his weight put on one leg and the other foot slightly turned…exactly the way Rick stood.

Beginning to push herself a little harder, she ventured another block away from the walls and began winding her way through the streets. As the familiar houses passed her by she caught a glimpse of a familiar face sitting on one of the empty porches, enjoying an apple without a care in the world. Enid was surprisingly brazen about the way she hung around outside the walls, so much so that she didn't even try to hide it anymore. She ignored all orders to stay inside, and all scolding and attempts to punish her…she answered to no one. The first time Carrie had met her she'd been struck by a vivid memory, for Enid's appearance bore many similarities to Shannon, the young teenager in Carrie's last group. It was Enid's long dark hair that Carrie noticed first, and then the graceful way that she moved…it was painful to meet her initially, but her sullen disposition and general moodiness made it easier to differentiate between the two teens.

Knowing not to waste her time by telling Enid to go back inside, Carrie quickly left her behind and then let her mind drift again, still reflecting on the last few weeks. As she often did, she thought about Deanna Monroe, dwelling on what she had learned about the leader of Alexandria, on the plans she and Maggie were considering. It seemed that Deanna had given thought to a great deal of what Carrie had told her that day they had talked, and she was taking a great interest in preparing Alexandria for future trade. The gardens had been expanded although that was really more Rick's doing than Deanna's, the residents were being encouraged to share their skills and knowledge with one another, and she'd even been talking to Eugene about how they'd go about manufacturing their own ammunition.

However, it seemed Deanna hadn't taken on board everything Carrie had to say. The illusion of normal life and endless safety had yet to be lifted, the Alexandrian's yet to be brought around to reality. Likely not ready to face reality herself, Deanna was still enabling her community's delusion of safety, she was still helping them hide from reality. A month had passed since Carrie recommended that Rick be allowed to step up and take charge, to properly manage the safety and security in the way he wanted to, and it had not happened. Instead, Deanna had allowed him to implement only half measures…the surveillance system, Walker traps and safe houses were an excellent start to ensuring Alexandria's self defence, but it was firearms training and access to the armoury that they needed most.

In the month that Carrie had been there, a total of five safe houses had been set up, a marathon task that had them working from sun up to sun down. While the Alexandrian's had helped put together the equipment and food that would be needed, it had been up to the Rick's people to reinforce and secure the houses themselves. Even before she had fully recovered, this had been a low-risk job that Carrie had been allowed to help with, much to her relief. She'd been happy enough helping out Olivia in the pantry, and she'd even been doing some work at the school, but it was outside the walls where she found the greatest sense of accomplishment. While she hadn't quite understood the division between Rick and the Alexandrians before, she did now.

Completing her third lap around the walls, she passed the gates and found only Rick and Michonne there now. They still lingered, frowning as they discussed something that was apparently troubling them. Though she wondered what the problem was, she didn't dwell on it. Whatever the problem was, if it pertained to her in she'd be informed. She'd learnt long ago not to trouble herself with other people's problems unless invited or otherwise alarmed…it wouldn't do good for anyone. Instead she simply jogged past them, letting her eyes roam over Rick as she passed. He and Michonne were both wearing their Constable's uniforms, the clothing that served the purpose of helping them fit in. It was a mask, not unlike the one Carol put on every morning.

As she passed him she took note of Rick's body language. His shoulders were hunched and his hands stuffed in his pockets, his mouth twisted into a scowl. She caught his eye as she passed, and she saw a familiar look cross his face, one that he gave only to her. Taking note of this, she suspected she might run into him again when she made her next pass, that he'd be alone this time. She was right.

When she made her fourth lap of the walls, she found him lingering down one of the side streets, clearly waiting for her to pass by. She slowed to a stop and looked down the street at him, always enjoying the playful way he would convince her to sneak off with him. He never presumed she was ready and willing to drop her clothes for his benefit, even though she knew that she pretty much was. The sex between them was perhaps the hottest she'd ever had, made that way by the intense secrecy of it all. They only ever snuck around in secret, stealing quickies in her bedroom or meeting up outside the walls…sex was an exciting form of stress relief for them both, and today he was making it clear that he needed it.

"Hey," he greeted her. Having been sitting on the curb waiting for her, he stood up when she approached him. "How's your run going?"

"Good," she shrugged. "My leg's still holding up. How were your rounds?"

"Uneventful."

She smiled at this. "Just the way you like them."

They had stopped a few yards apart from each other, and she wasn't going to go any further…if he wanted this, he was going to have to ask for it. Though she could visibly see the stress fading from his face, he looked rather awkward as he stood there, perhaps wondering how to politely proposition her for sex. It was rather cute the way he acted as though they were just making small talk, as if she didn't know exactly what he was looking for. He could become surprisingly bashful sometimes, and in moments like that it was all she could do to not tear his clothes off.

"What?" he enquired, tilting his head as he noticed her amused smile.

She just chuckled, taking pity and moving a few steps closer. Deciding to just go for it, lest they be there all day making small talk, she got straight to the point. "You…you're cute the way you pretend you're not looking for a screw."

Rick chuckled at this, a genuine laugh that few saw as often as she did. Returning her smile, he shifted his weight between his feet as he looped his thumb around his duty belt. "Ma'am, are you propositioning a Police Officer?"

Scoffing, Carrie just shook her head in exasperation as she stepped forward. Grabbing the end of his tie, she gave it a gentle tug as she walked past. "Is there a penalty for that?" she asked, making sure to sway her hips as he began to follow.

"I'll think of one."

Without fuss, they headed off down the street to their usual place, passing their collection of vehicles before turning left at the next intersection. Halfway down the next block was the RV Aaron and Eric had collected Rick's group with…it was useful for more than transport. Unable to be seen from the walls of Alexandria, and comfortably shaded by the tree overhead, the RV was Rick and Carrie's location of choice for when they met up outside the walls. With a lockable door and two beds, albeit narrow and uncomfortable beds, it was well suited to their particular needs.

"So, what's wrong?" she enquired, stepping inside the RV and giving a soft sigh. She loved coming out here, for more than the obvious reason too. No matter how rushed they were together, there was always a brief moment of peace when they were done fooling around, a moment they both craved.

"Nothing," he denied predictably, locking the door behind them.

"There's usually something wrong if you're looking for sex."

He glanced up at her, frowning as he began unbuttoning his Constable shirt. "You don't think that, do you?"

Realising she had misspoken, she gave him a coy smile as she walked past, trailing her hand over his hip. "I said, _usually_."

Stopping her as she went, he drew her back towards him and pressed a wet kiss to the side of her neck. Leading her back to the RV's dining table, he prompted her to sit on it, bringing his lips to hers when she did. Though she was normally only an inch or so shy of matching his height, today she smiled at the way he now had to lean up to her, enjoying the change of perspective.

"Maybe I'm just in the mood," he whispered into her ear, his breath hot and tone sultry. Echoing this, he ran his hands up her thighs and pushed them apart, opening her up to him. He deftly removed her shoulder holster and set it aside, pulling her tank top up and over her arms next. "Seeing you in these tight clothes will do that."

Unable to help herself, Carrie giggled at these words, breathing a sigh of relief when he unhooked her sports bra. It had become too tight for her, and was rather uncomfortable to wear, and so she gratefully let him slip it off her arms and toss it aside. They went about their usual routine now, Carrie unfastening the knife holster around her arm while Rick removed his duty belt. Always so responsible, he laid it out in it's usual place across the bench seat, assured that he would always find it exactly there. Finished now, he used her knees to drag her to sit on the very edge of the table, and knowing what he was doing, she quickly hooked her arms and legs around him. She sighed when he picked her up and carried her down the hallway, his lips firmly pressed to her neck where she most loved him to kiss.

"Hang your shirt up," she reminded him, the light blue fabric meaning it crinkled rather easily. They didn't need to make it even more obvious what they were doing out here.

Dropping her onto the left bed, he watched as she bounced a little and then closed the bedroom door to give them some extra privacy. As he began removing his shirt, Carrie reached for the cheap venetian blinds and closed them, kicking off her sneakers and socks before balancing one foot on the bed and one on the night stand. Reaching up carefully, she pushed the sunroof open to admit some natural light and fresh air. While she was still standing she felt Rick come over to her, his hands starting at her waist and then moving down. He ran his hands over her ass, squeezing it as he brought his lips to her stomach. Balanced precariously on the bed and nightstand, she shuddered when the tip of his tongue circled her navel before he used his teeth to tug on her piercing. He knew exactly what that did to her, the way it made her want to clench her legs together. Looking down at him and seeing the way he stood below her, she couldn't help but feel like he was worshiping her…perhaps he was.

Feeling her balance wavering, she stood on the bed properly and then opened one of the overhead cupboards. "R-ribbed, or studded?" she asked breathlessly, blindly fumbling around for a condom.

Peeling down her yoga pants, he answered shortly. "Don't care."

"Let me down."

"No," he refused, tugging her underwear down and then kissing the front of her hipbone. "I've got you exactly where I want you."

She rolled her eyes at him and then used her knee to nudge him back. Reluctantly letting her go, his eyes raked over her body appreciatively as he opened his jeans. She felt a flicker of amusement when she noticed the patched up holes in the left leg and right knee. Although Michonne had found him two new pairs of jeans on the Georgia supply run, the exact size and style he usually wore, he still favoured the faded ones with the holes and torn pocket.

"It's been too long," he complained, smiling when she stepped down from the bed and removed her yoga pants properly.

"It's been four days, Desperado." They met one another with a hungered kiss, the feeling of Rick's skin against hers giving the last jolt she needed to completely ignite her arousal. Drawing his lower lip between her teeth she sucked on it teasingly, feeling a hint of his unshaven stubble. Gently pressing her teeth around it, she then released his lower lip in order to kiss him properly. "Four days too long," she sighed, sliding her fingers into his curly hair and getting a good grip.

"Well look who's counting now," he laughed, his voice slightly muffled against her mouth.

Not wasting any more time he kissed her again, and despite his denial of it, Carrie could tell that something was weighing on his mind. She could feel the tension in his kiss, the frustration that needed to find a healthy release. They didn't sleep together just for enjoyment, but also for an escape, for reprieve from the world…dare she say sometimes even for comfort? She could feel that need emanating from him today, simultaneously aware of how he was relaxing with every kiss, touch and laugh. Wanting to bring him the relief he sought, she followed his lead as he ushered her back towards the bed to lay down.

She loved having him over her like this, able to feel the contrast between their bodies. Larger and stronger than her own, Rick's body fit on top of her perfectly, his weight heavy in just the right way. He used this to his advantage, holding her beneath him as he kissed and touched her at leisure, his hand moving down her stomach to between her legs. Using his knees to hold hers apart, he kissed her languidly as he stroked her centre, having learnt exactly where to touch her and when. She tried to sit up now, her hands reaching down to take care of him too, but he stopped her. Though she was eager for them to get started, it seemed he wasn't in a rush today.

"How much time do we have?" she asked in concern, raising her head as he began moving his lips down her neck.

"Enough."

She shouldn't be concerned, for if Carl enquired about Rick's absence it wasn't her who had to answer him, but she was. "Are you sure?"

Answering her without a word, he looked up at her as he started kissing her breasts, sucking her nipple between his lips before letting it go with a wet pop. He took his time before repeating the action with her other nipple, laving his tongue around it as she squirmed beneath him. An uninhibited laugh escaped her lips, for as enjoyable as that was it always tickled at first, something Rick took advantage of. Relieved that they had time to spare, for all too often their time together was rushed, she got comfortable and then watched as his lips kept making their way down her body.

He gave her a quick nudge, and following his cue she moved herself higher up the mattress to giving him room to lay down. Half sitting and half slumped against the wall, it was awkward and uncomfortable for her, but it would have to do. As convenient and private as the RV was, it wasn't exactly spacious. Never forgoing necessary foreplay, he continued kissing down her stomach, stopping to let his tongue circle her navel before tugging on her piercing. He knew how this affected her, and today it was her undoing, the end of her patience. Grasping a handful of his hair she not so subtly pressed on the top of his head, directing him down to where she wanted him and releasing him only when he acquiesced. Letting him do his thing, she rested her head back against the wall and watched him, making her appreciation of him known a minute or so later. Though they'd never failed to enjoy their time together, a lot had changed in the last month, and when it came to sex, practice did indeed make perfect. When he pulled away she gave a groan of frustration, blindly reaching for his head to bring him back between her legs, but he just laughed at her.

"I hate it when you do that," she growled angrily, rocking her hips up against him as he kissed his way back up her stomach. "You get me so clo-"

"You love it," he argued, raising his head and looking around. "Don't pretend. Where's the…ah, there."

Seeing him reaching for the condom, Carrie snatched it up first with a whoop of delight, smirking at him in amusement. Apologising with a kiss to the cheek, she nudged him to get off her and then sat up. They changed positions seamlessly, Rick sitting back with his head against the wall while she straddled him, using the overhead cupboards to balance herself. Sharing a luscious kiss, she reached down and began stroking him, hoping to get him as worked up as she was, but today he seemed patient enough to let her do whatever she pleased. His hands caressed the back of her thighs, his head falling back and allowing her access to his neck. Kissing the front of it, she let her lips linger and inhaled deeply. Despite the fact that he had been on patrol outside the walls, he smelled clean and fresh, an unusual combination given the nature of the world today. Having had enough of waiting, she opened the condom and rolled it onto him, but no sooner than she had he was shaking his head at her.

"Carrie," he sighed in exasperation, pulling the condom off and then making her look at it. "That's the second one you've broken lately. Cut your fingernails."

"They're not even long," she moaned, their present state being the longest she had been able to grow them in the first place. Getting up, she reached into the overhead cupboard and found another one. "Besides, I can't cut them any shorter. Jessie likes to paint them."

"Either cut your nails, or let me handle the very valuable contraception," he scolded her, taking the foil pack and handling it himself.

"Yeah, alright," she brushed him off, stroking her fingers through his hair before showing him her hand. "But look, just look…."

Entertaining her request, Rick did as asked and looked at her hand, and she saw the moment he recognised the image Jessie had painted. "Cows?" he questioned, looking up at her. "You have cows on your fingernails?"

"Yeah," she smiled, looking at them as she straddled him again. "Rick wait, wait. Aren't they… _moovellous_?"

Sitting beneath her, Rick bowed his head and clenched his eyes shut, looking as though he was in pain. "Carrie…Have you been practicing that joke?"

"Yes."

"You know making Dad jokes will kill an erection?"

She laughed at his expense, seizing him in a bruising kiss which he returned eagerly. "I'll revive it for you, now come here."

Looking relieved to get started, Rick helped her get into place and then sink down onto him, his hands on her hips to help her find a rhythm. Though they started out slow and gentle, she eagerly encouraged him to take what he needed from her, beginning to rock her hips against him more quickly. Despite his denial, she could tell that something was weighing on his mind, although for this day and age that wasn't unusual for anyone. She could feel the desperation he was trying to hold back, the frustration that needed to find a healthy release.

Welcoming him to take whatever he needed from her, she reached up and held onto the overhead cupboards, giving herself the leverage required to move even more. She smiled at the expression that crossed his face, the way his eyes rolled back in his head for just a moment as he saw how she looked, and he seemed to give in. Slowing to a stop he bundled her against his chest and then moved them both, laying her down and hovering over top of her. He started moving again, his lips sealed over hers in a lush kiss. A warm glow swept through her body as they kissed, and she gasped loudly when he pulled away to breathe.

Echoing this gasp, Rick panted as he pressed his cheek against hers. Closing her eyes, Carrie focused on the way his body felt on top of hers, on how wonderful it felt to wrap her arms around his shoulders, to entwine her legs with his. When she felt his hot breaths against her neck, the tender way he began nuzzling her neck, she slid her fingers into his hair and clung to that exact moment, wishing it could last forever. Yet no matter how good the intimacy and tenderness felt, she began to actively distance herself, trying to ignore the depth of what she was feeling. This feeling had been lingering in the back of her mind since the supply run, since her arrival in Alexandria, and it was only getting stronger.

No matter how hard she tried to ignore this need, Carrie knew that casual sex was no longer enough for her.

* * *

Completely satiated, Rick lay stretched out on the RV's bed, one hand folded behind his head as he enjoyed the peace and quiet he didn't often get. It was rare that he and Carrie have time to spare, that they could linger out in the RV and enjoy the post sex glow rather than redressing and rushing off to their next task. They'd been out here for an hour now, the longest time they'd spent alone since the night he had stayed over, and that felt like a crime. They should be wasting hours and hours out here, not settling for quickies whenever they could manage their schedules to coincide.

Carrie lay beside him on the narrow bed, the lack of space necessitating that she practically lay on top of him, not that either of them minded. With a long sigh he readjusted his arm around her, and when he looked at her he took the time to admire her body, letting his eyes roam the smooth skin he knew so well. She had that familiar pink colouring down her belly, the flush she often got after sex. Was is the physical exertion, or a particularly enjoyable orgasm? A little cocky on occasion, he liked to think it was the latter.

Looking up and catching his eye, she gave a soft chuckle and then winked at him, eliciting a chuckle of his own. He knew what she was referring to…she often teased him for the way he tended to drift off after sex, even if only for a minute or so. But today he had fought the battle against his heavy eyelids, and had won. Turning onto his side, he pressed his body against the length of hers and kissed the top of her shoulder. He absentmindedly played with her navel piercing, noticing that she'd changed it since the last time they'd slept together. The other day it had been the plain silver bar he'd first seen, but now it was a purple jewel, one that had bounced around with every thrust when they'd had sex.

Things between the two of them were fantastic, and for the first time in too long, Rick was actually having fun. He had something he actually looked forward to, a secret all of his own that he didn't have to share with anyone else…perhaps that's why he liked it so much. In the month since Carrie had arrived, they'd taken frequent advantage of their casual relationship, using one another in the best way possible to get themselves through the day. It was exciting, and it was fun…but their trysts served more than one purpose, that much he understood. Sometimes their time together wasn't to seek fun. Sometimes they sought each other out to hide away from the world, to find comfort from the stressors that just kept on coming at them.

Laying there with her now, his fingers playing with her navel piercing and his lips still pressed against her shoulder, Rick knew something had changed. At least for him it had. Frankly, it left him feeling unsettled. The warm feeling in his stomach when he thought of her, the easy contentedness he felt in her company…he knew what it meant, and he'd felt it coming on for a while now. Carol had been right, he wasn't built for the type of relationship he and Carrie had started, he wasn't capable of guarding himself enough to maintain 'friends with benefits', no matter how hard he tried. He knew that he was quickly falling in love with this woman, that he wanted more.

Regardless of his changing feelings, he was determined that things would remain unchanged. It didn't matter that he wanted more from Carrie…he wasn't ready to reach out and take it. What they have now works. Their friendship came easily, and the sex was great. Any attempt on his behalf to change things came with the risk of screwing it up, of inviting complications. Given everything he had to consider, he knew he wasn't ready to take that step. With that insight, Rick wanted things to stay as they are. There was no need to bother Carrie with his confused feelings, not when he wasn't ready to acknowledge them to himself. Yet he couldn't help but wonder, what if? What if he simply tried, took the risk and put his heart on the line?

What if she felt the same?

This wasn't exactly blind hope. Though they frequently shared lustful glances and smiles across the room, it was the way she looked at him when she thought he wasn't looking that made his stomach flutter. Occasionally he'd spot glimpses in a window's reflection, or he'd catch her when he unexpectedly looked up, and each time it was the same. He recognised the meaning behind these looks, because he had been giving her the same look. It wasn't an expression of friendship, and nor was it of lust…it was more.

On that note, he caught her looking at him again, but this time it was with curiosity. _Damn her_ , he thought to himself, cursing her astute perceptiveness. There were times when she could read him like a book, and now was one of them. Her question was on the tip of her tongue, and any moment now she was going to ask him what was bothering him. It was a usual routine for them, particularly when they'd sought one another out for comfort or escape.

 _Something on your mind?_

 _What's Carl done now?_

 _Let me guess…book club?_

Pre-empting her question, Rick spoke first. "Something's up with Daryl."

Carrie huffed to herself. "I knew there was something wrong," she said, looking at him in exasperation. "You say that about Daryl at least once a week."

"I know."

"He seems perfectly normal to me."

On the face of it, Rick agreed with her, but he knew Daryl a little better. "He was arguing with Aaron last night…he's been spending a lot of time at his place too. Says he's been working on his bike," he said next. With their own garage occupied by various surveillance and computer equipment, Aaron had graciously offered his own garage to house Merle's old motorcycle.

"That's been running for a week now."

"Yes, it has."

Much to the Alexandrians' surprise, the day the motorcycle roared back to life Daryl had taken it outside the walls for its maiden voyage with Carol sitting right behind him. To the prison group this was far from unusual, harkening back to the days on the road when Carol always took that spot…to the Alexandrian's, it was downright strange. Riding on the back of Daryl's motorcycle didn't exactly fit Carol's persona anymore, despite her suitable explanations.

Yet despite his success in getting the motorcycle working again, Daryl's mood hadn't seemed to lift all that much. He was still acting strangely, at least in Rick's opinion anyway. He didn't spend much time at home, and he rarely slept in his attic bedroom, despite how comfortable Carol had made it for him. Rick only saw him once in the mornings, usually when he was returning from a hunt with Carl, and then once again in the evenings when he came home to eat, mainly just to appease Carol. He knew that Daryl was struggling to find his true place in Alexandria, to find a role more meaningful than providing fresh meat, and he wished it was easier for him. Perhaps things had changed too much since their arrival in Alexandria…no doubt the dynamic of their entire group had shifted.

"You're really worried, aren't you," Carrie commented. Propping herself up on her elbow, she peered at him in concern.

Not wanting her to worry about his problems, Rick brushed off her concern. Instead he gave her a soft kiss and changed the subject. "There's another run this morning."

"I know," she agreed nonchalantly, kissing him once more before laying back down. "I'm on it."

His heart sinking, Rick clenched his jaw and he looked back up at the ceiling. This would be the second run she had taken since her leg had recovered enough, and selfishly he found himself wishing that her injury was still causing her pain. He didn't like the fact that she went out there, that not only was she venturing from the safety of Alexandria, she was doing so in the company of Aidan and Nicholas. Of course he worried about all his people, having already told Glenn, Tara and Noah about his preference that they not work with those particular Alexandrians, but he worried about Carrie just a little more. Like Glenn, she was determined to make things work, but he feared that she might not draw the line between cooperation and her safety as quickly as Glenn would. He had a baby on the way, he was more conservative with his choices and risks than someone like Carrie.

"What is it?" she enquired, picking up on his change of mood.

"Nothing," he denied, sitting up abruptly. Searching for his jeans, he began to redress. "Just getting used to that…to you going on runs."

"Glenn will take care of me."

He scoffed at this, looking at her over his shoulder. She looked beautiful the way she was sprawled out naked, her hands behind her head as she watched him. Despite her somewhat angelic pose, he could still recognise her inner strength and experience. " _You_ will take care of _you_. Glenn's just your back up."

"Thanks."

"For what?" he enquired, standing up and buttoning his jeans _. Shouldn't he be thanking her right now? After all, he was the one who'd been looking for sex._

"For not thinking that I need protection because I'm a woman."

Shrugging on his white tee-shirt and tucking it in, Rick gave her a wry smile. "If you needed protection, it would have nothing to do with your gender."

Her smile grew at this comment, and she sat up and crossed her legs as she watched him redress, making no move to do the same herself. This was fine with Rick, giving him the opportunity to look her up and down. As he tucked in his Constable shirt and started fixing his tie, he looked at the cupboards above the bed they had occupied, and he gave one a gentle nudge to test its sturdiness. Carrie had been hanging onto it earlier, using it for leverage and balance while they had sex, and he thought he'd heard it rattling.

"It's fine," Carrie assured him, knowing what he was thinking.

"Just be careful," he reminded her, adjusting his tie. "We don't need to break anything else in here."

She huffed at this. "You break one dining table, and you get a reputation?"

"It's a deserved reputation," he grinned, thinking about how he had to replace the table top following that particular afternoon.

Letting out an amused laugh, Carrie rolled her eyes. "Well how were we to know the table wasn't built for two?"

Rejoining her on the bed, he kissed her cheek before leaning back and looking at the pink marks around her ribs and the top of her shoulders. "Your bra is too tight," he commented in concern.

"I've gained ten pounds," she smiled, looking down at herself. "It's gone straight to my boobs."

He grinned, kissing her properly. "I can tell."

Giggling, she raised her hands to his hair. Running her fingers through it, she tried bundling it up at the back of his head, barely managing to clench it into a pony tail. "You had it cut?"

He nodded. "Can't believe you didn't notice right away." Feigning petulance, he kissed her deeply, letting his hands roam over her naked body. Knowing he'd spent too long outside the walls already, he resisted the urge to lay her down and have his way with her again. "Check in with me before you leave for the supply run," he requested as he got to his feet.

With a long sigh she lay back down and made quite the show of stretching out her body. "Okay," she agreed, putting her hands behind her head and relaxing.

Checking that her weapons and water bottle were on the table waiting for her, he hovered by the door and looked down the hallway towards the bedroom. He felt a twinge of exasperation mixed with concern…how long was she going to stay out here for?

"You coming or not?"

"I just did."

Rolling his eyes, he shook his head at her wit, knowing it was always quicker than his. "I'll lock the door for you."

"Hey, wait," she called, stopping him halfway out the door. She propped herself up on her elbows when he came back in. "I like your handbag…you put your lipstick in there?"

He glanced down at the bag he typically carried outside the walls. It contained everything he might find himself in need of, and was particularly useful for carrying various items he scavenged off Walkers…she was teasing him.

"It's a satchel," he corrected her, narrowing his eyes. "And I didn't hear you mocking it last week when I had to carry your water bottle in it."

Hearing her laughing at his expense, he grinned stupidly as he stepped outside the RV and locked the door behind himself. Walking past the rear, he slapped his hand against the window and told her to hurry up, not yet needing to hide the ridiculous smile he had on his face. His outward cheerfulness needed to be short lived however, and he pulled himself into line when he ascended the watch tower and reentered the walls. Checking his name off on the register of people who departed and returned, he reluctantly headed to the armoury to return his Colt.

As he left by the open garage, he glanced at the delivery van that was parked in the middle of the road between the townhouses and the infirmary. Aidan, Nicholas and Tara were bustling around preparing their weapons while Glenn and Noah checked on the engine. When Carrie came back inside the walls she would likely come straight here to get filled in on their plans for the supply run, and though he managed to concoct a few reasons that he could keep her behind, he knew he would never do that to her. Trusting that his group would check in with him and the others before they left, he reluctantly left them to it. As if to support what he was feeling inside, the sky above showcased dark clouds that were approaching.

Heading back home and thinking about his next task for the day, he was surprised to find Carl sitting on the front steps of the second house, Enid by his side as they gutted the rabbits. Though it wasn't unusual to find him in Enid's company, nor to find him gutting what had been hunted, he did question why he was doing it at the second house. Whatever it was, Enid seemed completely disinterested, her long hair falling across her face as she expertly pulled out the entrails and dumped them in a bucket. He'd seen her outside the walls that morning while he was doing his rounds with Michonne, but he had long ago accepted that this particular teenager answered to no one, not even him.

"Don't go in there," Carl warned him darkly, anticipating his father's question before it was voiced.

Pausing, Rick looked at the first house. "This got something to do with why you're gutting those over here, and not at home?"

"Yep. Like I said, don't go in there. It ain't worth it."

Choosing to take the risk, Rick headed off. "Don't say ain't."

He could hear loud voices coming from inside the house, but as he predicted they might they died down the moment he set foot on the front porch. As he came inside and saw Daryl and Carol standing at opposite ends of the kitchen, their closed off body language indicating their argument was serious, every worry that had so recently vanished came back in full force.

"Sorry to interrupt," he began, acknowledging upfront that he knew they were arguing.

As he heard Judith racing over to greet him he looked at Daryl, seeing the way he hid behind his long hair. Getting out of their way, he swooped down and picked up Judith, kissing her forehead as they went upstairs. She seemed perturbed by the raised voices she must have over heard, for it had probably been a long time since she'd been able to sense stress and conflict in the group. As he ascended the stairs he tried not to listen as the argument between Carol and Daryl resumed, though their voices were significantly hushed now.

Securing the safety gate at the top of the stairs, Rick put Judith down in their bedroom, ignoring the way she whined and reached up for him. "Go get your shoes," he told her, pointing to their walk in closet. "Get your shoes, we're going out."

Repeating his instructions until she followed them, he hung up his constable shirt, an item of clothing that felt more like a costume than a symbol of true authority. He fetched Judith a set of clothing that she could dirty, knowing Carol would have his head if he allowed her to play in the garden while wearing the nice dress she had on now. Redressing her in some comfortable pants and tee-shirt, he rubbed sunscreen into her milky white skin before putting her sneakers on, making a mental note to ask Glenn to find a new pair for her. At the rate she was growing these wouldn't last much longer.

"Where's that stupid duck?" he muttered to himself, hoisting her onto his waist and looking around.

Conscious that it had once been covered it rotting guts and viscera, Rick had never been at ease with the way Judith found comfort in scraps from his own brown tee-shirt. When she had refused to accept any of the stuffed animals he had brought back for her from the supply run, he and Carol had gone to drastic measures to slowly transition her onto something else. The plush duck she had received for her birthday now wore the scrap of brown material as a cape around its neck…a cape that secretly got smaller and smaller every week. Their tactic seemed to be working, and though Judith often let the duck drag along the ground as she carried the brown fabric, she seemed to have accepted it.

"Everything alright?" he asked Carol when he came downstairs a few minutes later, Judith on his hip. He grabbed the duck when he saw it in the living room, not wanting to invite an emotional meltdown if it got left behind.

She was alone in the kitchen, her arms folded as she waited for a fresh pot of coffee to brew. She just nodded, her demeanour giving no indication that she and Daryl had just been in an argument. This came as an annoyance to Rick, their argument only compounding his own concerns about what was going on with Daryl…he increasingly got the feeling that Carol knew, but that for some reason she wasn't yet sharing it with him.

"You taking her with you?" she enquired, gesturing to Judith who was squirming in his arms.

He nodded, putting her down. "We'll do the compost rounds…let her do the talking," he said, acknowledging that when it came to getting the Alexandrian's to warm up to him, Judith was surprisingly useful.

"Good. They're getting there, you know," she said encouragingly. "They're coming around."

He stifled a scoff of derision, only somewhat sharing her opinion. "You sure everything's okay?" Filling up Judith's water bottle and slipping it into his satchel, he looked at Carol from the corner of his eye.

"Yep."

Her tone indicated otherwise, as did her expression, but there was also the indication that he needed to trust her, that the problem was covered. Accepting this on face value, he farewelled her and took the stroller out of the front cupboard, unfolding it and finding the straps. To his annoyance Judith marched right past the stroller and ignored his request that she get in, exercising her growing independence. Wondering when the hell that had started, he reluctantly let her walk, despite knowing it would mean their task would take three times as long to compete. Patiently letting her climb down the front steps at her own pace, he grabbed the compost bucket and then set off up the road with her in tow, trying not to go too fast.

She'd taken her first steps about a week or so before her birthday, but it was only in the last two weeks that she had really bothered with making an effort. Once she figured out how much faster it was to walk rather than crawl, there was simply no stopping her, much to Rick's exasperation. Normally relaxed and laid back, Judith's curiosity for the world outside her home had grown exponentially, and they frequently caught her heading to the front door completely of her own accord. She was always rather disgruntled when she was told she couldn't do something, and her most used word had changed from a request for more, to a resounding no.

Sticking to Judith's speed, Rick made sure he took the time to enjoy her company, remembering how quickly Carl had grown up. Judith was doing the exact same thing, growing and changing at such a rate he could barely keep up. She strolled the pavement at her own pace, frequently stopping to look at the weeds in a garden or the clouds in the sky. A habit she'd learnt from life out on the road, she tended to be a little quieter when she was outside, as if she knew on instinct that it wasn't as safe as it was inside her home. But at Rick's encouragement she started babbling loudly, looking up at him in delight when he talked back.

Despite their slow progress, and the long list of things to do that he always seemed to give himself, he thoroughly enjoyed the long, somewhat monotonous walk with his daughter, marvelling over not just how useful her sweet smile was against the Alexandrians, but in watching the way she interacted with the world. Everything was new and exciting to her, and she was taking it all in with great delight. When she stopped to pick up a twig on the ground, he smiled when she held it up for him, insisting he take it. Happily watching him put it in his pocket, she carried on up the pavement, not noticing when he took it out and tossed it into one of the gardens.

Collecting the compost did indeed take three times longer than it should, Judith insisting she be allowed to climb the front steps of each house unassisted, always lingering to look around the houses or talk to whoever was home. While she'd always been happy enough to be passed around from person to person, she was becoming increasingly social the more she found her voice, much to the entertainment of those around her. Recognising an opportunity when she saw one, it had been Carrie's suggestion that he start bringing Judith with him whenever he could. There was little argument to be made against this, particularly given that Carrie was right.

"You're different when you're around her."

"Mmmm," he agreed absentmindedly. She'd recently brought this idea up while they lay naked on her bed, and while she tried to give him the help he'd requested to get the Alexandrian's on his side, his attention had been otherwise occupied. Busy trying to coax her into a second round, he hadn't really been paying attention to what she was saying.

"You are," she insisted. "Your tone is more gentle, you're more patient when she's around…it will be good to have her around when you talk to people about things."

Rick already knew that he behaved differently around his children, that he did his best to exercise patience and watch what he said, around Carl in particular, he'd just never seen this as an opportunity. Uncomfortably aware of how most Alexandrian's perceived him, that to them he was paranoid and unreasonable, he'd been willing to let Judith accompany him, to see if her presence was enough to soften his image. Carrie had been right of course…with Judith by his side he found that he chose his words a little more carefully, that he took the time to properly explain what was going on with the safe houses and the reasons for setting them up. His patience was astounding, particularly to those who knew him well, but to him the entire process was exhausting.

Exercising his newfound advantage, Rick stopped by David and Betsey's house and let Judith wander inside, the door already open. Knocking, he made sure Judith wasn't touching anything while he waited for someone. At the sound of Judith's babbling, louder now that she was back inside, Betsy came racing down the stairs, a look of delight crossing her face when she saw her standing in her living room.

"Judy!" Betsy smiled, bending down to pick her up as she glanced at Rick. "Hey, Rick, how are you doing?"

"I'm fine, thanks," he answered, watching Judith start babbling at her. "I'm just here for the compost."

"Of course, come on in," she welcomed, waving him inside as she started talking to Judith, holding her hand and kissing the back of it.

While he collected the compost and dumped it into the bucket he had left outside, Rick watched Betsy interacting with Judith, observing the way she moved around her kitchen with the baby on her hip. She moved the same easy grace Lori used to when Carl was small, showing that the baby she held was not just another being, but an extension of herself, something she didn't even need to think about. Simply observing Betsy, Rick figured she probably had children of her own before the outbreak…sometimes in the midst of his frustrations with them, it was easy for him to forget that the Alexandrian's had suffered losses too. While they hadn't experienced the same fight for survival as his own family had, they too had lost their families and friends.

When David joined them from the garage, the three of them making obligatory small talk, Rick reminded himself of Betsy and David's story. They'd married one another the previous year, and they were one of the few Alexandrian's who had seen the world outside the walls after civilisation fell completely. Aaron had picked them up separately on one of his first recruiting missions about two months into the outbreak, and they'd been living here ever since. Their experience outside the walls, albeit limited experience, ought to be a factor in their favour, to be something that worked to Rick's advantage. But while David frequently worked with the construction crew, and found encouragement through his friendship with Tobin, it appeared Betsy had buried her head in the sand and hadn't looked out since.

"Has Carrie talked to you about some firearms training?" Rick enquired, handing the empty compost bucket back to Betsy.

"Oh, yeah," Betsy answered, though Rick took note of the way she quickly averted her eyes. "She has."

"So, I can count you in then?"

This got exactly the reaction Rick had been expecting.

"Well, to be hon-" Betsy began, David cutting her off almost immediately.

"Count her in," David nodded, giving Betsy a pointed look. When it seemed she was going to protest, he folded his arms and spoke softly. "We talked about this."

There was an awkward pause, Judith curiously looking between David and Betsy as she picked up on the change in their voices. Having grown used to this type of thing, Rick just waited patiently, his thumb looped around his duty belt.

"I'm sorry, Rick," Betsy began apologetically, ignoring David. "But I have book club soon, and then I'm taking watch from the north post for the rest of the day."

While David muttered under his breath, angrily telling Betsy that book club could God damn wait, Rick didn't let her excuses bother him. The fact that Betsy's afternoon was occupied by her taking watch from the north post, one of the new platforms that had been recently built, meant that she was trying. Convincing the Alexandrian's that the use of supplies and time to built extra watch posts was hard enough in the first place…convincing them to actually start taking part was even harder. To Rick, Betsy's agreement to take watch was a major achievement…he suspected Carrie had something to do with that.

"That's fine, Betsy. I know Sasha appreciates you helping with the watch posts," he said kindly, taking Judith back now that he was ready to leave.

"It's no problem," she smiled, looking at David who appeared rather annoyed with her evasion…it almost made Rick feel bad for what he said next.

"Firearms training is actually tomorrow, at two o'clock. I'll see you both then."

Not allowing himself to take joy in Betsy's look of distress, Rick simply farewelled them and left, putting Judith back down when they reached the pavement. Picking up the bucket of compost, which had a rather pungent stink today, the two of them slowly made their way around the rest of the houses. It took them another half hour to finish up, but they completed each of the houses, giving Rick the opportunity to check in with the residents and remind them about the training set for the following afternoon. Though Carrie had been in the ear of most residents, and Carol went about her own method of warming them up and keeping an eye on their overall attitudes, their enthusiasm for the gun training was less than positive. Just like Betsy, the others were happy hiding inside the walls and pretending the outside did not exist. Despite this, things were getting better, that much he had to acknowledge.

The progress was far too slow for his comfort, but it was there nonetheless. The bug they had placed in Deanna's living room had given he and Carol good insight into the mind of the community's leader, and with the assurance that Deanna was on their side overall, they had set about removing it. While it was been necessary at the time, it didn't sit well with him that he be spying on Deanna long term, and they'd heard enough for now. Deanna's interview with Carrie about what had happened on the supply run was over and done with, and the bug had served its purpose. They had others that they could plant again, but for now there was no need for it.

Dwelling on all the things he still had to get done that day, Rick knew he was at risk of over loading himself again. There were plenty of people in Alexandria on which he could depend…simple tasks such as collecting the compost could have been completed by Eugene if he would just learn to delegate. That was easier said than done, particularly when the menial tasks such as that allowed him into everyone's homes, helping them get used to him and to see him as more than the bearded man who Aaron had brought in, full of paranoia and horrible stories.

Upon arriving back at the gardens across from his home, Rick admired the neat rows and well organised sections, pleased to see that someone had been by that morning to do some weeding. The plants they had brought with them from the prison gardens had fared well through the long journey from Georgia, and after two weeks of letting them recover in their little green houses, they had begun planting them in the open field. There was still no definitive decision on where the gardens and livestock would exist once they had acquired the latter, but for now this would do the job well. Remembering the advice Hershel had given him months ago, he knew that once they had pigs they would be utilised for more than just farming meat. The pigs would be allowed to work the soil in their pen, and once they had eaten all the grass and weeds, their pen would be moved somewhere else, the soil left behind perfect for the next planting of seeds.

Emptying the compost into the large heap, he chuckled at the expression Judith pulled when he removed the lid, watching the way she covered her mouth and nose in disgust. Filling up her plastic watering can for her, he set her to work, despite knowing she'd only water a few plants before getting distracted. As he expected she abandoned her watering can fairly soon, preferring to follow him around instead. Keeping an eye on her, lest he find her eating a handful of dirt like she did last week, he noticed the way she was sucking her thumb, her other hand holding her duck against her neck. It was approaching the usual time for her morning nap, and she was beginning to signal this to him without even knowing it. Planning ahead, he hastened to finish up in the gardens, knowing that Carol would be going to book club and Michonne was helping the supply runners get ready. He would have to be the one who put Judith down for her nap.

Though he didn't like the idea of being somewhat bound of the house, despite being able to simply take the baby monitor with him inside Alexandria, he knew he would still make himself useful in the garage. He hadn't checked on the surveillance cameras all day…on that note, when was the last time someone had ventured a mile out to the hunting cameras they had near the main roads? Taking only still shots when they detected movement, they required someone to manually go out and swap out the SD cards and check on the batteries.

Hearing Judith give a delighted exclamation, Rick followed her gaze and saw Daryl approaching. While Judith grinned to see him approaching, Rick just sighed, already getting a bad feeling. Something told him that whatever Daryl's reasons for approaching him, they were not good. He'd been behaving strangely for weeks now, and the argument with Carol that morning didn't exactly bode well either. As he approached them, he couldn't help but compare Daryl's body language to someone approaching a rather skittish horse…he walked slowly, appearing somewhat reluctant to be coming over there in the first place.

"Hey," Rick greeted him, speaking first. Spotting a small weed that had been missed, he crouched down and pulled it out, glad when the roots came too. Letting Judith peer at it in interest, he looked up at Daryl. "Why do you look like you're walking to your execution?"

As he expected, Daryl shrugged offishly. His face twitched as he looked away, his hands going into his pockets.

"You heading out again?" Rick asked, gesturing to his crossbow over his shoulder.

Daryl nodded in response, his boot pawing at the ground beneath his feet. Turning back to the garden bed where they had planted carrots, Rick gently pulled at another weed, giving him the opportunity to speak when he was ready. As he waited, his heart began to sink…he could hear Daryl clicking the lid of his lighter open and shut. He did that when he was nervous, which frankly wasn't often.

"I gotta tell you sumthin'…" he mumbled, his words difficult to decipher for anyone who didn't know him.

"What?" he asked warily. Seeing Judith raising a clump of dirt to sniff it, he took it out of her hands, ignoring her grunt of protest. Hoisting her onto his hip, he stood and looked at Daryl expectantly. "What is it?" he asked again.

He shrugged a little, the motion bringing his hair over his face like a shield. Not looking Rick in the eye, he finally answered him.

"Aaron and I…we're leavin' for a while."

* * *

A/N Hey all, I hope you enjoyed the chapter! To answer a question that I'm sure others are wondering, there will be action soon, a few more chapters needed to ease into a period of slight vulnerability for Alexandria. Chapter 17, I promise!


	15. Chapter 15

"Hey," Rick greeted him, speaking first. Spotting a weed that had been missed, he crouched down and gently pulled it out, glad when the roots came too. Letting Judith look at it in interest, he looked up at Daryl. "Why do you look like you're walking to your execution?"

As he expected, Daryl shrugged offishly. His face twitched as he looked away, his hands going into his pockets. Turning back to the garden bed where they hoped to grow carrots, Rick gently pulled at another weed, giving Daryl the opportunity to speak when he was ready. As he waited, Rick's heart sank…he could hear Daryl clicking the lid of his lighter open and shut. He did that when he was nervous, which frankly wasn't often.

"I gotta tell you sumthin'…" he mumbled, his words difficult to decipher by for anyone who didn't know him.

"What?" he asked warily. Seeing Judith raising a clump of dirt to sniff it, he distractedly took it out of her hands, ignoring her grunt of protest. Hoisting her onto his hip, he stood and looked at Daryl expectantly. "What is it?" he asked again.

He shrugged a little, the motion bringing his hair over his face like a shield. Not looking Rick in the eye, he finally answered him.

"Aaron and I…we're leavin' for a while."

Certain that he had misheard, Rick furrowed his brow as he looked at him. "What do you mean you're leaving?" he asked, looking round when he heard Judith start fussing. "Where are you going?" Daryl's hesitation is what gave Rick cause for alarm, and ignoring Judith he looked back at him. "Daryl?"

"Recruiting," he mumbled. "We're going recruiting."

What he was saying made perfect sense, Rick knew it did, and yet he found himself looking at Daryl dumfounded. "Alright," he said slowly, feeling the need to speak cautiously. Daryl had brought up the idea of recruiting once or twice in the last few weeks, while Rick had simply shot him down. "Why?"

Daryl pawed the ground with the toe of his boot. "You know…to bring people in. To help 'em."

"Since when do you care?"

"Since I ain't made o' stone."

Somewhat taken aback, Rick didn't say anything else. There was a long pause, and an unfamiliar sense of awkwardness created a gulf between the two men. Gently starting to bounce Judith on his hip, he rubbed her back as he peered at Daryl, trying to decipher what it was going on in his head.

"Is this something Deanna asked you to do?" he asked gently, minding his tone now.

Daryl shook his head, squinting as he looked at the walls. "Nah…Aaron suggested it."

"Because of Eric?"

"Mmmm. Said with his ankle, it's gonna be months 'fore he's back on his feet."

"Right."

Holding back what he really wanted to say, Rick tried to think. This was a bad idea, one that he did not support, but he couldn't say that to Daryl. His desire to go out and recruit strangers was now just another problem that Rick would have to handle, but he'd need to do it in a very particular way. This was going to take time, a sensitive approach. He'd have to convince Daryl that this was not only a bad idea, but that he was needed in Alexandria too much to leave. All he would have to do was make a better effort to keep Daryl busy, to reinforce how necessary he was to the community, to their family. Hell, if Daryl was left busy enough he'd come to this realisation himself.

"Is this important to you?" Rick asked softly. _Think strategically…be supportive until the right time._

"Yeah," he mumbled, finally looking back to him. "I need to do something."

 _I'll give you plenty to do right here in Alexandria._

"Alright. If this is what you want, then we'll make it work," he lied.

Though Daryl nodded gratefully, he didn't seem relieved to have Rick's support. "Thanks."

"Looks like we're going to have some planning to do," Rick mused out loud. With Judith resting her head on his shoulder, he kissed her hair as he threw the weeds into a wheelbarrow.

"Nah," Daryl said offishly. Rick noted that he started walking backwards, his hands clenching around the strap of his crossbow. "Don't need to worry about none of that."

"You can't tell me not to worry." Already thinking about strategies to convince Daryl this was a bad idea, he glanced over at the original vegetable garden behind Bob and Natalie's house, wondering if there was anything ready yet. "We'll help you plan things."

"There's no need, man. It's done."

Rick looked up at this, frowning as he tried to decipher Daryl's mumbling. "It's done?"

"Mmmm," he nodded, taking another few steps back. He looked like he wanted to flee, and it was this behaviour that set Rick's alarm bells ringing again.

"What do you mean it's done?" he asked, his tone sharper than he intended.

"It's covered," Daryl said aloofly. Taking a breath, he seemed to brace himself for what he said next. "We're leavin' soon. Tomorrow."

These words hit him hard, and Rick blinked stupidly. He stood there dumfounded, Daryl warily watching him and awaiting his reaction. "You're not leaving tomorrow," he said blankly, finally speaking.

"We are," he said apologetically, scratching the back of his neck as he started walking backwards again. "It's all planned out…all bases are covered."

"Wait, don't walk away from me," Rick said angrily, starting after him when Daryl turned and left. "We need to talk about this."

"Ain't nothing to talk about."

"I think there is!"

His sudden shout roused Judith, who until that moment had been drifting off to sleep against his shoulder. She raised her head with a confused grunt, having always been startled by sudden loud noises. Her sudden movement stopped both of them in their tracks, reminding Rick of where he was and what else he had to contend with right now. Perhaps Daryl too realised this, for he glanced at Judith apologetically.

"Ain't nothing to worry about, brother," Daryl muttered, keeping his voice soft. "Won't be gone forever."

As if that was really the end of the discussion, Daryl turned on his heel and left, fleeing the scene like he had wanted to the moment he arrived. Rick on the other hand simply stood where he was, and despite Judith in his arms and his family spread out around him, he suddenly felt very alone. The sting of betrayal was like ice in his veins, freezing him from the inside out and rendering him incapable of doing anything other than standing there watching Daryl's retreating figure. Seconds later Daryl disappeared around the side of Shelly's house, his path indicating that he was heading for the gate.

Seething with the injustice of it all, Rick was marching off without even thinking about it. Knowing that Carol and Michonne were not home right now, he headed straight for the second house, his pace speeding up when he caught sigh of Daryl halfway to the gates already. Not knocking, he burst through the unlocked door and set his eyes on the only person around, who unluckily for Judith, happened to be Eugene.

"Eugene," Rick started, getting his attention. He looked up from the television in surprise, alarm crossing his face when he realised what was about to happen. Not letting himself think about it, he dumped Judith into Eugene's lap. "Five minutes. Sorry."

Ignoring the loud protests from both Eugene and Judith, he took off after Daryl, righteous anger seething in his belly. To say that he was furious was a god damn understatement…how the fuck could Daryl do this, and expect him to be okay with it? Annoyed to see that there were many people around, that Jessie was supervising some of the kids at the pier and the book club were meeting by the gazebo, Rick called out to Daryl. Hearing him, he reluctantly slowed to a stop and turned around. His shoulders slumped as if he knew he was in for it.

"Jesus, Daryl," he started furiously. "You really have quite the pair, don't you?"

Taking it, Daryl just looked away, shrugging as if to apologise.

"You are not leaving tomorrow."

"Man, it's all planned."

"Like hell it is!" he started, momentarily distracted by the sound of Judith crying. Eugene had fled out onto the street, holding her at arm's length while she wailed unhappily. "You can't seriously think this is a good idea."

"I do," he replied softly.

Daryl's bowed head and hunched shoulders made him seem like a teenager being chastised, making it all too easy for Rick to treat him like one. "Well it's not going to happen," he said shortly. "You're not doing this."

Daryl nodded. "Okay," he muttered, turning away.

"Where do you think you're going?" he demanded, following him.

"For a hunt."

"We're not done here! You think you can just drop this on me, and then you and Aaron will just go on your merry way? It's not going to happen."

"Ain't up to you," Daryl calmly told him, reluctantly stopping when Rick darted in front of him.

"Yes, it is!"

Daryl raised his eyebrows at this, but he didn't otherwise react. "Look, you're pissed, I get it. Bu-"

"Pissed doesn't begin to cover it." Unnerved by Daryl's lack of fight, Rick only went harder, despite knowing that he was playing with fire. "You are not doing this!"

He was goading Daryl into a fight, one that he felt they needed to get this stupid idea over and done with, even though he knew it wouldn't end well for either of them. Backed into a corner, Rick could see the fight simmering within Daryl, and he knew that at any moment he'd rightfully lash out, that he'd snap. Wanting this, Rick pushed even harder.

"Your place is here, with us. Not out there!" he spat, wildly gesturing to the walls. "Not chasing strangers!"

Daryl huffed at this. "What have yah got against helpin' people?"

"I don't even know why you're thinking about this," he hissed, looking past Daryl's shoulder to see Carol rushing to Judith, consoling her cries. "What about the people here?"

"People here are fine…people out there ain't."

Rick shook his head. "People out there have got to take care of themselves, just like we did."

Daryl actually looked affronted at this. "Like we did?"

"Yes."

"Man, we'd be dead by now if Aaron hadn't saved us. All o' us."

"And I'm real grateful, I am. But we've got to take care of our own people first."

"People here are fine. They got walls, they got you. People out there have got nothin'."

"I don't care about the people out there," Rick hissed, trying to make him understand. "I care about you."

There was a short pause, and he could see the anger building in Daryl's eyes, and he braced himself for the inevitable snap.

"You know what…You're fuckin' selfish!" Daryl suddenly shouted.

"Selfish?"

"Yeah! You're bein' a selfish prick!"

Rick laughed at this. "Fine. If putting my family first makes me a selfish prick, then I am one."

Daryl shook his head, his disgust obvious. "What the fuck happened to you, man?" he demanded, beginning to pace back and forth. "You used to help people! Huh? What happened to the guy that went back to Atlanta to save Merle! What happened to the guy who saved that Randall kid?"

"I'm not him anymore, and thank God I'm not."

"What about all them Woodbury folks? You took them in, you gave them a home. Fuck, you even took in Tara! What makes things different now?"

"You're talking about going out on your own to look for strangers! Don't you see how stupid that is?"

"Is it 'cos you ain't calling the shots like at the prison?" Daryl pestered, ignoring the question. "You ain't leadin' the brigade?"

Rick was temporarily dumfounded that he would bring up such an idea. "I didn't call the shots at the prison."

"Yeah, you did! Even when you didn't, you did!" he insisted, backing up a little as though he was going to dart around him.

"Daryl, stop! We're not done here!"

"You wanna keep talkin'?"

"Yes!"

"Fine," he said simply. Shoving his hands into his pockets he looked at Rick expectantly. "Talk."

Clenching his jaw, Rick glared at him, wishing he had the words to express his anger, his frustrations with Daryl. He'd always thought he and Daryl were on the same page about things, that they knew what one another were thinking, what they were doing…it hurt to find out that he'd been so very wrong about that. Still seething, he looked around as he tried to think, his mood not improving when he saw the distant crowd of gawkers. His heart sank even more when he looked up near the terraced houses to see Carl, Glenn and Carrie standing at the mouth of the road, watching and wondering if they should intervene.

"Daryl," he began, trying to calm himself down. "I'm not made of stone either, I do care about people out there suffering. But we need you here. That's all there is to it. You can't go."

"You don't need me no more," he insisted, matching Rick's calmer tone. "I waited, alright? It's been a month since we got back. The freezers are full o' meat, you got the safe houses done. The Walker traps, the surveillance cameras, they're done too. I waited for that, because I knew you'd need me. But it's done now, and I need to go. Come on man, it's not like it's forever."

"And what if it is?" he asked urgently, betraying how scared he felt by even the thought of Daryl going out. "What if you don't come back?"

Daryl shifted his weight between his feet. "I'm willing to take that risk."

Shaking his head to himself, Rick ran his hand through his hair, trying to think. "Why would you risk that for strangers? You saw on the supply run what people are like! Anyone you pick up will probably double cross you the moment you let your guard down."

"That's life…life's a bitch, and then you die."

"Oh come on, you can't really think like that!"

"I do. Now look, I get why you can't take this kinda risk, you got kids. I don't," he muttered. "I ain't got anyone depending on me comin' back."

"What about me?"

Daryl just waved his hand aloofly, brushing this off. "Nah."

"I'm serious, Daryl. What about me? Carol? We depend on you. We're your family!"

He shrugged now. "Like I said…life's a bitch."

Looping his thumb through his duty belt, Rick used his other hand to rub his forehead, trying to comprehend everything he seemed to be learning.

"What?" Daryl asked impatiently.

"I just…" he started, trailing off when the words didn't immediately come to him. He looked past Daryl's shoulder, trying to manage the sting of betrayal he felt. "I just can't believe that after everything we've been through, you care about us so little."

"What?…No…I didn't say that."

"Yeah, you did."

"When?"

"The moment strangers became more important than your family."

Daryl swore under his breath, beginning to pace again. "You don't fucking get it, do yah!"

"No, apparently I don't!"

"I'm doin' this for you!" Daryl shouted, angrily pointing at him. "For those kids o' yours! For all o' us!"

"How is this good for us?"

"You need more people! More like us, who know how to get shit done. Who can protect this place!"

"And how would we ever trust them? After what happened on the supply run, how could we trust anyone from out there?"

"You'd trust them, 'cos I'd tell you to."

"It doesn't work like that!"

Daryl blinked at him in astonishment. "Well fuck me dead…it seems to work like that when you're the one callin' the shots. You didn't consult none o' us when you picked up Carrie, did yah? No, you just told us to trust your judgement, and we did! Well the boots on the other foot now, and yah don't like it."

"No, I don't like it," he agreed. "There is nothing about this that I like."

"Well you just gon' have to live with it, 'cos this is what's happening. You can't order me around. I ain't your pet. I ain't your kids!"

Barely holding back the slew of curses he wanted to emit, Rick clenched his jaw. "This conversation is not over," he growled, marching past him.

"Why don't yah stop for a second and think, huh?" Daryl goaded. "Think about Lori, would yah?"

Rick stopped in his tracks, feeling as though Daryl had literally punched him in the gut. "What the fuck did you just say?" he asked incredulously, turning around again.

"Think about Lori," he repeated, his voice louder again. "Could yah spare her a thought for one second?"

"Don't ever use my wife against me!" Rick yelled, clenching his fists as he stepped towards Daryl. "Not her!"

"What if there's someone like her out there, huh?" Daryl continued, not intimidated. "Someone pregnant?" He lowered his voice this time, his jaw clenched as he spoke. "If Lori had a grave, she'd be rolling in it to see you like this."

Knowing he close he was to swinging a fist, Rick took a decisive step backwards, not wanting to do that. "Like what?" he asked, tilting his head. His question was a challenge, his voice like acid.

"Like not wanting to help people! She'd be disgusted to see who you're becoming like."

"Who I'm becoming like?"

"Yeah. The way you're talking now, about not wantin' to help people…you're just like Shane."

There was a painful moment in which they both realised Daryl had crossed a line, so when Rick raised his fist and hit him, Daryl didn't even try to stop him. It wasn't even something he consciously thought about doing, he did it out of reflex, an act of self-defence against the one person that would forever haunt him, Shane. The split second in which his fist hit his best friend's jaw and knocked him off his feet, he felt intense satisfaction. Someone screamed as Daryl stumbled back and fell to the ground, his crossbow clattering loudly on the asphalt. While he scrambled to orient himself around his crossbow, Rick shook his hand and stepped away to give him some space.

At the sound of the onlooker's horrified gasps, the crowd had grown. Tobin and a few others who had been working on something came rushing over, ready to intervene on what they presumed to be an impending fist fight. Rick impatiently waved them off, knowing that they didn't understand. He glanced over at the townhouses now, frustrated to realise his son had seen him do that, and so had Carrie. Ignoring them for now, he looked down at Daryl, who huffed to himself as he peered up at him through his messy hair. There was a long pause in which they looked at each other, and then Daryl finally raised his hand upward. It was a request for help…a gesture of surrender.

"You deserved that," he growled, grasping Daryl's hand and roughly helping him to his feet. Though they both knew Daryl would not retaliate, the two men kept their distance from one another, standing off like boxers in a ring.

Huffing again, Daryl took a moment to rub his jaw and swing his crossbow back over his shoulder. "Yeah?" he shrugged. "I just call it like I see it."

"Well it was a bit fucking low," Rick said next, his voice strained. They know that even though Daryl had been the one who got punched, Rick was the one who was hurt.

Again, Daryl shrugged. "If the boot fits…obviously fits too well."

They'd reached an impasse, one that told them their current trajectory was getting them no where. Turning away, Rick took a deep breath to steady himself, knowing they couldn't go on like this.

"Why are you always leaving?"

Daryl growled under his breath. "That ain't true."

"It is," Rick insisted, turning back to him. "You were going to leave the farm. On the road after the farm, you were going to run off in the middle of the night, don't think I didn't know. Then with Merle, y-"

"Man, you ever going to forgive me for running off with Merle? I had to, Merle was my brother."

"So am I!" Rick said imperatively, daring him to deny it. "So are the rest of us, and yet here you are, wanting to leave again!"

"It ain't like that," Daryl said patiently. "You're the only one who says I'm always leaving."

"Daryl, please, I'm asking…" Rick trailed off and then corrected himself. "Christ, I'm begging you. After everything we've been through with the prison, the Claimers, Terminus…Beth. I-"

"Don't bring her up," Daryl snapped, cutting him off.

"You bring up Lori, I'll bring up Beth. Just please…don't go."

Daryl's will would not be budged. "I got to," he stated, as if it were really that simple. "I know you don't see it now, but I'm doin' this for you."

Incredulous, Rick shifted his weight as he looped his thumb around his duty belt, staring at Daryl in utter defeat. "Fine. Do what ever you want," he said spitefully. Taking a deep breath, he leant forward and made sure Daryl was looking at him. "But _you_ are gonna tell Carl."

"Yeah, I will," he said noncommittally.

"Now," Rick said firmly, gesturing over to where Carl stood watching. "You look him in the eye, and tell him people out there are more important to you than being here with him."

"Don't put it like that," Daryl said softly.

"That's how it is," he stated. "So do whatever the fuck you want…but you're telling Carl."

Not trusting himself to say anymore, Rick forced himself to leave. His stomach in knots, he lowered his head and avoided the disapproving gazes of everyone who had watched the argument, feeling their judgement and mistrust even from afar. How could they trust a man who would attack his own best friend? He laughed to himself. If only they knew what he did to his former best friend.

His mind racing and his heart heavy, he headed straight home, wanting to be alone while he processed everything that had just happened. Having not wanted to watch the spectacle, Carol was sitting at the kitchen bench when he returned. Her apology for keeping Daryl's secret on the tip of her tongue, but Rick did not allow her to express it, preferring instead to ignore her completely. Listening to the heady thud of his boots on the staircase he retreated into the master bedroom and closed the door behind himself, walking a little more softly when he saw Judith laying in her crib. Sinking down onto the edge of his bed, he pulled off his boots and let them fall to the floor as he watched Judith, silently apologising for what he had done. Her eyes were puffy and red, her cheeks tear stained as she drank from her bottle. He had upset her by leaving her with Eugene right when she'd been on the cusp of falling asleep, a great offence given she didn't particularly like Eugene in the first place.

Half asleep but still upset with him, Judith struggled into a sitting position and then dropped her bottle of formula, and she sniffled loudly as she reached up for him. He recognised what she was asking for, that although she was quiet and calm right now she needed comfort…maybe he did too. Despite knowing that it was a bad habit to encourage, he picked her up and brought her against her chest, holding her close and kissing the crown of her head. Retrieving her bottle of formula and her duck, he rearranged his pillows and then lay down on the bed with her beside him, enjoying the way she snuggled against his side. As she started drinking again he restlessly stroked her hair, thinking of Daryl, trying to make sense of what he must be thinking right now.

He had always known that Daryl was struggling to fit in here, that he was never quite sure of where he stood and what his role was. At the prison things had been simpler, for at the start it was only his close group, and the integration of the Woodbury folk had been smooth. In Alexandria there was an existing status quo among the people, one he didn't quite know how to adjust to. Was that why he was so set on leaving? Until now Rick had just assumed that Daryl knew and understood his importance to the group, that he was a member of their family…he had hoped that it would be enough for Daryl. But perhaps it wasn't that at all…perhaps Daryl really did want to bring in more people. It shouldn't come as a surprise to Rick that behind all of his bravado and aloofness, Daryl's heart was one of unexpected kindness and care. Perhaps it really was as simple as that.

Looking up when he heard the bedroom door opening, Rick braced himself, for he knew who it would be. Though it was clear he was doing his best to hold himself together, Carl was clearly quite upset when he entered their shared bedroom, the scowl on his face hiding the painful news he had just been delivered. He entered slowly, gauging Rick's mood before he closed the door behind himself.

"Do you want me to put her in the crib?" he asked, his voice quieter than normal.

Rick glanced down at Judith, pleased to see she was fast asleep and dribbling onto his shirt. "No," he shook his head. He set her half finished bottle onto his nightstand and readjusted his arm around her, then looked back to Carl. "Daryl talked to you?"

He nodded shortly, wringing his hands together before dropping them to his side. There was a long pause as they looked at each other, Rick waiting for Carl to say something, because he knew that there was something on the tip of his tongue.

"Do you know how long he's going for?"

"No. We'll talk about that later."

Carl nodded again, and this time he looked away as he continued. "He said he'll take me hunting tomorrow morning…before he goes."

Not saying anything, Rick breathed in slowly, never taking his eyes off him. "It's okay to be upset," he told him. "It's okay to cry too, if that's what you need."

Still looking away Carl gave an offhand shrug, but Rick could tell by the way he was clenching his jaw that he was barely holding himself together, that he was scared. It pained him to see his son that way, to watch him trying to pretend he was unperturbed by what was going on, by the risk Daryl was taking.

"Come here."

Raising his free hand, he gestured to the space on the bed beside himself, looking at Carl expectantly. There was a moment of hesitation, a moment where Carl continued struggling against whatever it was telling him to pretend, and then he came over. He kicked off his shoes and grabbed a comic book off his nightstand, but he joined Rick on the bed nonetheless. Tolerating his father's one armed embrace, Carl lay down beside him but faced the opposite direction, still trying to hide his face. Choosing to let it go, he kissed the crown of his son's head and watched as he opened his comic book, though he suspected he wasn't really reading it.

Wishing for peaceful solitude that was not going to come, he listened to the soft breathing from both of his children, knowing that in this moment Rick needed his family's comfort as much as they did.

* * *

Though Carrie had always known that for some people the act of preparing a meal was soothing, much in the same way exercise was for her, she'd never actually experienced it firsthand the way she was now. She was making one hell of a mess in the kitchen, but the process of following Carol's written instructions was fairly simple, and she soon found herself calming and tuning out to the world. Given what had been going on today, a sense of calm and escape was exactly what she needed.

Carrie had thrown together many meals since the outbreak had begun, usually scraps of whatever the group had been able to find, but life in Alexandria had been her first introduction to the act of preparing a full meal from scratch. In their home most of the house keeping duties typically fell to Carol, but everyone seemed to take a turn cooking a meal, even Rick (who much to her surprise could make a decent Spaghetti Bolognese). Consulting the instructions Carol had made for her, carefully laid out in easy to follow steps, Carrie turned to the canned carrots. Opening them, she drained the liquid and then cut them according to the instructions, wishing that it wasn't another month until the carrots from Bob's garden were ready to harvest…they would be so much nicer.

Adding the chopped carrots into the baking dish, she dwelled on the supply run she had participated in that afternoon, frustrated by how it had turned out. Given that they all came back unharmed she supposed she ought to acknowledge that it went well, but their empty handed return meant that it had been entirely unsuccessful. Needing more cables for the surveillance system that was in place, they'd traveled forty minutes to the next electronics store on their list, only to find four walls full of disappointment. Though things had looked clear at first, Carrie could tell straight away that Glenn was uncomfortable, that his instincts were telling him something was not quite right.

His instincts were correct, and when they'd circled the block to check out the surrounding areas, they'd found that not only was the entire back alley filled with Walkers, the rear door to the store was open. Glenn had immediately called off the supply run on the grounds that it was too dangerous, despite Aidan's insistence that they try to get inside and close the rear door. While Aidan was enthusiastic for the idea, Carrie was able to foresee all the things that could possible go wrong should they storm the building and try to close the door.

"Does that mean you volunteer?" Glenn asked plainly, Aidan still insisting they try.

Carrie held her breath at this, hoping that Aidan didn't try to aggravate Glenn too much. After the news broke about Daryl's intention to leave the following morning, the spirits of everyone in their group had taken quite the blow, her own included. But those who'd been with Daryl from the very start seemed to take the news particularly hard. Glenn had been unusually quiet all afternoon, not that she blamed him after they'd been witness to the argument that unfolded between Rick and Daryl. That in itself had been quite unsettling to see.

Thankfully Aidan didn't press the matter, and with the agreement that Rick would not want them taking unnecessary risks just for some cables, they called it a day and headed home. While a part of her was relieved, having never been fond of unnecessary risks, another part of her didn't want to return to Alexandria quite yet. The unexpected news about Aaron and Daryl had been a damper on everyone's mood, and when she'd checked in with Rick before the supply run his affect had been particularly low. She didn't quite know what to make of it, having not seen that expression of defeat on his face before. Unless he wanted to slip out to the RV together, she wasn't quite sure how to go about bringing him solace.

He was gone when the run crew returned, and according to Michonne he'd taken one of the dirt bikes a few miles out to attend to the hunting cameras. They needed to be checked every few days to change the batteries and SD cards, the images they captured the best way for them to keep track of anything coming and going by them on the main roads. The task shouldn't have taken more than an hour at the most, but he'd been gone the whole afternoon…but no one would be concerned unless he didn't return before nightfall. There was no doubt that just like Daryl was doing upstairs in his attic bedroom, Rick was lingering outside the walls to brood about the situation. He'd be out there alone taking the time to think, to come around to the sudden change that was being forced upon him.

Daryl's news also came with the understanding that he'd been planning to go out recruiting for quite some time, and that for one reason or another he had chosen not to tell Rick. She could understand why Rick had reacted so poorly. Too afraid to hear the word _no_ , Daryl had intentionally kept Rick in the dark, and he'd asked Carol to do the same. Not only was Rick scared as hell for Daryl's safety, she imagined he was feeling rather hurt by the deception. Thinking on this, she wondered if she ought to have gone outside to the RV, picturing him waiting there for her, hoping that she would turn up and give him an outlet for everything that was going on. He'd be wanting an escape from all of it, and sex had become their 'go to' solution for this type of situation. And yet she couldn't go outside again…if he wasn't there, she'd be waiting for him all afternoon on the off chance that he had the same thought. If she lingered outside too long, people would question where she was.

Slicing a long stick of celery, which thankfully was fresh from the garden, Carrie glanced up at Carl. He sat across from her at the island bench doing his homework, though his attention had been diverted. His pen dangling from between his fingers, he stared into the living room watching the DVD Michonne was playing, completely distracted. Though he'd maintained a stiff upper lip when Daryl reluctantly told him the news of his departure, she could tell that Carl had been rather upset. It seemed they'd grown closer after the run in with those people who attacked them at the construction site. Not only had Daryl been teaching Carl how to use a crossbow, they'd frequently been hunting together most mornings for the last week. There was no doubt he was going to miss this friendship.

Wanting to cheer him up, Carrie plucked a pea out of the baking dish and threw it at him, pleased when it hit him square between the eyes, a lucky shot. He blinked, his features surprised as he looked at the pea that bounced over the kitchen bench and then fell to the floor. Looking at Carrie in faux outrage, he smiled a moment later.

"What was that for?"

"Do your homework."

"I am," he insisted, looking back at his piece of paper. "I'm done."

"No you're not," she remarked. Peering at the paper, she hid her surprise that he was learning the quadratic formula. "What about question three?"

He seemed unconcerned. "I don't know that one. Judy," he called, getting his sister's attention.

Having been watching the moving figures on the television with rapt attention, Judith looked around at the sound of her brother's voice. As he called for her again, she happily meandered into the kitchen and looked up at him.

"Look…look," he told her, pointing to the pea on the floor. "That's for you. Eat it. Yeah, you can have it."

"Don't make her eat that!" Carrie cried in horror. "It's on the floor!"

"Oh come on, look at how happy she is," he appealed, for Judith was looking rather pleased as she ate it. "She doesn't care, she'd eat her own snot if we'd let her."

Michonne looked up from the couch, her voice stern. "Carl, you can't teach her to eat things off the floor. Today it's a pea, tomorrow it's something she chokes on."

Realising, Carl apologised before sheepishly turning back to his homework, looking at the third question after all. Judith on the other hand wandered into the kitchen, peering up at Carrie with a hopeful look in her big blue eyes.

"Moh?"

Having slowly learnt to interpret some of her words, Carrie acquiesced. Taking a plastic bowl from the dish drainer, she plucked out a few more peas before taking the bowl into the living room, making Judith sit down on her fold out couch. Smiling at the look of glee on the little girl's face, she headed back into the kitchen just as Rick arrived home. Though mentally she braced herself to prepare for whatever mood he was feeling, she was surprised when he acted as though nothing was out of the ordinary. Greeting everyone in his usual manner, he headed straight into the laundry, bearing smears of blood on his arms that needed to be washed off. Listening to the water running, Carrie continued slicing the celery, pretending that she wasn't waiting for him to come back out. She'd seen blood spatter on his white tee-shirt, and though she knew he was fine, a part of her wanted to see him for a second time, just to make sure.

A few minutes later he came back into the living room, pulling on a clean shirt he had taken from his pile of clothing on the laundry bench. Still acting as though nothing untoward had occurred that day, he swooped down on Judith and kissed her cheek, and when she showed him her bowl of peas he acted as though it was the most delightful thing he'd ever seen. Sitting down with her for a few moments, he let her feed him peas one by one while he filled Michonne in on the rounds he had made on her behalf.

"How was school?" he asked Carl, still sitting with Judith.

"It was okay," he pondered. "I can solve an equation faster than Mikey. It was a speed round pop quiz."

"What was the prize?"

"Glory. Did you get the memory cards from the cameras?"

"Yes."

"Can I-"

"Finish your homework first, then we'll look at them."

"I'm done," he immediately declared, dropping his pen to the bench.

Rick raised his eyebrows, looking to Carrie for confirmation. She peered at his list of math problems, taking particular care to check he had finished question three. Looking up at him with a wry expression, she shook her head to herself. "Looks like you knew what to do after all," she teased. "He's done."

As the two of them disappeared into the garage, Carrie tried to turn her focus back to the meal she was preparing, consulting Carol's instructions once again. The baking dish was abundant with vegetables, and she added the lightly browned meat before starting on the gravy mixture. Satisfied with her attempts so far, she put the dish in the oven and then set the kitchen timer. Though cooking typically meant that she was free from dish duty, she started tidying up anyway, feeling she'd made a rather extensive mess. Less than five minutes after he and Rick went into the garage, Carl came back out, looking rather disappointed by whatever it was he'd seen.

"Hey, where are you going?" Carrie questioned, seeing he was heading for the front door.

He paused, looking at her in confusion. "Ummm, out? Dad said I can."

"Clean up your crap!" she told him, gesturing to his homework and stationery that still littered the kitchen bench.

Sighing loudly, he turned on his heel and then grabbed his things. "Whoops," he said in lieu of an apology.

She watched in amusement as he stuffed his pens and papers into his school bag, picking up one he dropped before shoving it all under the bench seat by the front door. While Michonne reminded him to be home by dark, Carl raced out the door, and Carrie watched through the kitchen window as he caught a football Noah threw to him. It was nice to see him smiling and joking around after what had happened that morning. As Carl disappeared from sight, Carrie continued tidying up the kitchen as an opportunity presented itself to her. She looked over her shoulder towards the hallway that led to the garage, knowing that Rick was in there…alone.

Making her decision, she washed and dried her hands before going to join Rick. It wasn't a surprise that Carl had left the door open, being a typical teenager, and she looked in at what she could see before making her presence known. Carl's BMX bike was the first thing she noticed, and she was sad to see that it was propped up against the far wall behind an array of mess and junk. Though he had recovered significantly, the downward pressure of pedalling had been hurting his healed gunshot wound, and so it had been set aside for a little while longer.

Standing in the threshold now, Carrie looked around and cringed at what she could see. The garage was jam packed full of stuff, things haphazardly arranged in some sort of organised chaos that she couldn't wrap her head around. The neat and orderly part of her wanted to be set loose, to attack the mess armed with a label maker and set of storage boxes. Half of the cables and equipment they had brought back from Walmart were stacked in the corner, the cables unravelled and tangled like a string of Christmas decorations, while what looked like an array of tools, gardening equipment and car parts were crammed elsewhere. God, what she could do for this chaos…

The garage's main purpose was to be the Control Room for the surveillance system, a place where Rick or anyone interested could come and watch the monitors to have an eye on the world outside the walls. So far only three cameras had been set up, situated on the north, east and west walls that weren't covered by the watch tower on the south side. Connected to the cameras by the enormous lengths of cabling were four corresponding computer screens, one of which would remain blank until the supply runners could get their hands on what else was needed for the fourth camera. This was where she found Rick facing away from her, his crossed ankles resting on the desk while he sat back in the office chair and watched the screens. Trying to gauge his mood, for perhaps he didn't want to be disturbed, she lingered on the threshold and watched the computers. There was no sign of movement outside the walls.

"Hey," he greeted her.

Carrie smiled to herself. Of course he would detect her presence. "Hey. Anything interesting on the hunting cameras?" She went in and closed the door behind herself, knowing that they can't allow Judith to get in here while it was such a mess.

Politely turning the chair around so he could see her, he shook his head. Moving the computer mouse, he illuminated the screen on the desktop on the other end of the desk. "Few shots of Walkers. A shot of you guys when you left for the run this morning. That's all."

Pulling up the other office chair, Carrie sat down and looked at the pictures, wishing the resolution was a little clearer. There were photographs of various Walkers, but nothing that indicated any of them were forming clusters or heading in any particular direction, nothing that would cause any kind of alarm. She looked at the most recent photographs, one being of the delivery van they had driven as they departed for their unsuccessful supply run, and then three of Rick arriving on the dirt bike to collect the SD card.

"Everything alright?" he enquired, as if she was the one having a bad day, not him.

"I'm fine," she answered, looking up from the photographs of him.

"I just saw Glenn. He said the supply run was a bust," he continued, sounding as though he was just making conversation. Looking around the desk, he started looking through a stack of paper.

"We're going to try again tomorrow," she told him. "We'll take a second car, hit the music and draw them out of the back alley. If the weather doesn't hold out we'll have to wait a bit longer."

"There's no rush," he reminded her, though they all understood this. "The surveillance system can wait. It's not essential."

"We know." Having assured him, she paid attention to what he was looking at, seeing that it was a terrain map of the wider area. He seemed to be studying carefully, his mouth curved into a familiar frown. "Are you okay?"

He glanced up at her, feigning surprise. "Yeah." He turned back to the map.

Carrie mentally sighed, seeing that he was avoiding the topic of Daryl. "Are you sure? You seemed pretty upset this morning," she commented. She looked down at the knuckles on his right hand, half expecting to see them bloodied and bruised. Yet despite the ferocious punch that knocked Daryl on his ass, there was no evidence on Rick's hand.

"Yes," he said firmly, his tone indicating she shouldn't ask again.

Appearing to be annoyed with her, he folded up the map and then tossed it back onto the pile of paper…what she wouldn't give to organise the desk too. While Rick shuffled through a few other odds and ends, pointedly avoiding Carrie's gaze, she mentally told herself to pull back a little, to not nag. If Rick had been her ex-husband, she would have pushed at him a little more, repeating her enquiries as to whether or not he was really alright. But while that was occasionally effective with Logan, she knew it would be quite the opposite with Rick. If she pushed at him, he'd only retreat from her even further, or he'd verbally lash out in anger. She knew him enough to understand that it was okay for her to leave him be. He had plenty of others in his family to push at him, to enquire as to whether or not he wanted to talk about what he must feel to be a betrayal on Daryl's part. Carrie on the other hand served to be a different kind of solace.

"I'm just pissed he didn't tell me, that's all."

Carrie blinked in wonderment, thinking she must have misheard. Although Rick wasn't looking at her, there was no doubt that he had spoken, that words he intended her to hear had left his mouth. She was surprised he had said that, particularly given his firm reassurance that everything was okay…but perhaps he'd just needed a few moments to speak in his own time.

"Not that he's leaving, but that he didn't tell you?" she clarified, speaking before she let her surprised silence stretch on too long.

Rick nodded, glancing at her before looking away. He picked up a pen and scrawled something on a note pad, but she suspected he was just giving his hands something to do. "I can't make him stay if he wants to go."

Though his tone was factual, Carrie could see the hurt he was trying to hide. The news of his best friend's departure must have hit him hard, worsened by the knowledge that he'd been planning this for some time and had intentionally deceived him. It didn't help that Daryl was upstairs in his attic bedroom sulking, avoiding Rick all together. Then on second thought, perhaps it was best the two men get some space from each other right now.

"I'm sorry he's leaving," she said sincerely, knowing that despite his intentions, Daryl might not ever return. Wanting to bring Rick solace, she pulled down the front of her tank top and moved her chair closer, putting her hand on his leg. "Is there anything I can do to make you feel better?" she enquired, her tone clearly suggestive.

This got his attention, but when he looked at her his expression was not one of pleasant surprise…in fact, he seemed rather affronted by her advance. He looked at her incredulously, and there was a long moment in which a chill spread through her, immediately getting the impression she had done something wrong. Unsure of what that was, she waited for him to speak.

"What are you doing?" he asked blankly.

It took a moment to find her voice. "Well I…normally we…" She trailed off as he suddenly moved his chair back from her, leaving her hand suspended until she quickly pulled it back. "Rick?"

"You think that's all I want from you?"

He spoke these words in a low voice, his brow pinched as he looked at her for her answer…he actually sounded offended. Carrie just looked at him blankly, trying to figure out what she had done, why he had literally pulled away from her. Stung by his unexplained rejection, she scrambled for an answer to his question, feeling her heart begin to pound the longer he stared at her. She couldn't come up with anything, at least nothing intelligent anyway, and so before she could think about it she got to her feet and headed for the door. Not knowing what else to do, she chose flight over fight.

Rick swore under his breath. "Carrie, wait."

She didn't. Opening the door, she stepped into the hallway and then quickly closed it behind her, making sure that she didn't slam it. Half expecting him to follow her and half hoping he would, she went straight for the staircase and stepped over the safety gate, racing upstairs and stepping over the gate up there too. She paused at the top of the threshold and looked back down, waiting to hear the sound of the door opening to indicate that he was following her. Disappointment filled her when he didn't follow, for as much as she didn't know what to say or do right now, she still wanted to know what she'd done. Waiting only a few more moments she quickly turned on her heel and headed for her bedroom at the other end of the hall.

Finding solitude in her bedroom, she hesitated for yet another moment as she kept waiting for him to pursue her, listening for the sound of the door opening and his footsteps on the stairs. Though he had no true obligation to pursue her, she felt particularly hurt when he did not, his absence leaving her cold and unsure. Slowly closing her bedroom door, she leant back against it as her jaw began to tremble, a onslaught of unexpected emotions hitting her quite suddenly. Clearing her throat, she forced herself to hold it together, not liking her emotional reaction to the situation. This was not how it was meant to be between them. Sure, they'd occasionally rejected one another's advances for various reasons, mainly inconvenient timing, but it had never been personal. Until now.

How had she read that situation wrong? Sex what was they did, sex was how they helped each other. Whether it was simply scratching an itch or escaping from the world, screwing around was the basis of what they had together. Friends with benefits, right? Why was now different? They'd fooled around after one of them had a bad day…obviously something had changed. Why else would Rick reject her in such a personal way?

 _"You think that's all I want from you?"_

The small, but hopeful part of her self-esteem wondered how much she should read into that question. Despite how much she had tried to keep her emotions separate from they did together, she knew that things had changed for her. Her feelings for him were more than platonic now, and they were more than simple sexual attraction. For her at least, another potential dimension of their relationship had opened up, throwing her into the murky waters of whatever it meant these days to have a relationship. His question of whether she thought he only wanted sex from her made her think.

Being totally honest with herself, she did think that was all he wanted from her. They got along for sure, and they had a hell of a good time together, even when they weren't naked, but she got the impression Rick was perfectly happy with things just the way they were. Still, it hadn't stopped her hoping that one day he might more, hadn't stopped her imagining various scenarios. Who had been the one to suggest the notion of friends with benefits? She vaguely remembered the conversation they'd had about it on the supply run, recalling that she'd been the one to bring up the status of whatever it was they had going on back then…she'd only asked because they were nearing Alexandria, because if they didn't set boundaries then their expectations were sure to be out of sync.

That sure has hell hadn't worked. At least not long term anyway.

Swearing under her breath, she cursed herself for allowing foolish fantasies to start getting out of hand. This wasn't what she and Rick had agreed on. They had agreed on an easy relationship, simplicity…and yet perhaps she wasn't the only one who'd started to blur the lines between what they were, and what they were not. The night of the party Rick had been the one to ask if he could stay with her a little longer, he had been the one who had jealously requested that she decline romantic advances from other men. In hindsight, she realised this had been their declaration of exclusivity to one another, although they'd done it with little to no fanfare to acknowledge the moment.

Groaning to herself, and still trying to assign righteous blame for the blurred lines, Carrie wandered into her ensuite bathroom and washed her face, taking a long drink of water before she dared go downstairs. Determined to simply get on with things, she took a deep breath before putting her game face on. Pleased by Michonne's hungry shout of how good the cooking smelled, Carrie easily slipped back into the routine of the household. Carl returned home when the sky grew dark and dutifully set the table, Carol returning from Natalie and Bob's soon after.

The family sat down to dinner together, barely managing to fit around a dining room table made for six. Highly conscious that it was Daryl's last evening with them, they made a particular effort to engage in their usual dinner table conversation, to make the meal as enjoyable as possible. And yet despite the way Rick nodded and smiled and Daryl did too, Carrie could feel the tension and sense of premature grief. Every time they made eye contact they would look away immediately, as if they were staring into the sun and the weight of the words unspoken might bring them both down. To that extent, Carol was feeling the discomfort too, particularly from Rick…she had known Daryl's intentions all along, and she'd kept his secret for him. Carrie didn't imagine that sat well with Rick.

Despite the tension, the efforts from all seemed to be enough to make the meal pleasant on the surface, a relief despite the way she tried not to think of it as Daryl's last. Conversation was polite and funny, the food Carrie prepared was been good, and Judith kept her mess to a minimum for once. Nevertheless, it was very much a relief when Carl and Michonne started clearing the plates, Rick hauling Judith out of the high chair to take upstairs for a bath. While Daryl went outside for a smoke, Carrie and Carol shared an unexpected sigh of relief.

"That was a very good meal," Carol praised. "Thank you."

"Thanks for writing out the recipe," Carrie returned, taking a sip from her wine. "And for not laughing when I asked how to turn on the oven."

This actually elicited a smile from Carol, one that was rarely sent in Carrie's direction. "It's a good thing you're pretty," she teased. There was a short pause, Carol looking at her in interest. "What did you do to the mashed potatoes?"

"Why? Were they good?"

"They were delicious." It sounded like she meant it.

Carrie tried to hide how much this meant to hear, feeling like a star pupil. "Garlic powder."

"Ingenious."

Practically glowing from the praise, and yet still hiding it, Carrie went about the rest of the evening, both looking forward to and dreading going to sleep that night. Going to sleep would only bring them all one step closer to Daryl's departure, which was tentatively scheduled for ten o'clock the following morning. She didn't blame Rick for his poor reaction…it felt like way too soon for him to be leaving, and they still hadn't had time to digest the unexpected plans. Spending the rest of the evening on the front porch with another glass of wine and a book Michonne had recommended, Carrie intentionally avoided the very people she had started to see as family, one of them in particular. As she had expected, Rick had made no mention of what had happened between them in the garage, and frankly she didn't expect or want him to. Between the Alexandrian's and Daryl, he was dealing with enough shit right now. He didn't need her adding it to the plate. Nevertheless, she still avoided him.

Yet hours later, when the community was silent and most residents asleep, Carrie was suddenly awoken. It was the click of her bedroom door that roused her first, her eyes fluttering open while the sound of soft footsteps roused her properly. Her instincts were not alarmed, and she knew who it was before she even lifted her face from the pillow. Turning onto her side, she blearily watched she shadows shifting as he moved around to the side of the bed she slept on…since he had stayed the night the first time, she chose to sleep on the left just as she had then. Tonight he tentatively sat down beside her knee, his hand searching for hers until he found it resting on top of the comforter. Entwining their fingers, he stayed quiet for a few moments, and Carrie let him think, somehow knowing he wanted to speak first.

"I'm sorry."

His whisper was soft, but perfectly clear. He reached out with his other hand and found her head, stroking her hair affectionately, and it was this gesture that only confused her more. Thinking back to his question that afternoon, one voiced in the heat of the moment, she still struggled to come up with an answer. _"You think that's all I want from you?"_

"Rick…I don't know what you want from me."

Without hesitation, he leant down through the darkness and pressed his lips to her forehead. "You. I want you."

Carrie sighed. His answer was frustratingly ambiguous, and told her nothing she didn't already know. The fact that he wanted her wasn't news, and yet something told her to accept this answer, to take it on face value. Recalling her struggles that afternoon, the hope that maybe one day he might feel the way about her that she did about him, she wondered if maybe this was an indication. Hopeful that it might be, she pulled her hand away from his, quickly soothing the way he tensed up when he thought she was pulling away. Instead, she pulled back her comforter and slowly sat up. She met his lips with her own, not needing the light to find them.

Their kiss was slow and tentative, exactly what the moment called for. Right now she needed this just as much as he did, and with that in mind she opened her nightstand drawer and fumbled around to find the condoms. Cursing the necessary precaution, she tore one off the chain and then coaxed Rick into the bed with her, pulling down his sweats at the same time. Relieved that he had her understanding and forgiveness, he kissed her urgently, his obvious stress about everything else returning. Taking refuge in what they knew how to do well, she welcomed his sense of desperation, determined to relieve it for him in the best way she knew how.

It was far from their best sex, and yet it satisfactorily served the purpose for both of them. Forcing herself not to relax the way she wanted to, she stroked Rick's curly hair and enjoyed the weight of his body against hers. Barely fifteen minutes after his arrival he was fast asleep, having stopped only long enough to throw the used condom into her trash can. He lay half beside her, half on top of her, his head resting on her shoulder and his arm around her body. She normally teased the way he occasionally nodded off after sex, but tonight she stayed quiet, glad that he was so relaxed. Nevertheless, she couldn't let him stay, despite how much she wished he could.

"Rick," she whispered a few minutes later. Very gently tugging on his hair, she roused him with her lips pressed to the top of his scalp. "Rick, you have to wake up."

He did so slowly, finally nodding his head. There was a long moment in which he simply lay there against her, and she could tell by the way that his hand didn't try to cop a feel of her breasts that all was still not well. Then again, she suspected sex wouldn't be enough to quell the worry he was going to feel every day of Daryl's absence. Much too soon, Rick slowly sat up and pressed a soft kiss to the front of her shoulder, moving to her lips next. He lingered there, and for a moment she thought he was going to say something to her, that some of the unspoken words between them would be voiced. He didn't though, and with one last kiss he reluctantly got up.

The absence of him beside her felt like an actual loss, and trying to quell it she moved over to where he had been laying. It was warm there, and if she closed her eyes and imagined just a little, it smelt like him too. Not bothering to put her underwear back on, she watched the shadows moving as he found his sweat pants and redressed in silence. Again he lingered as if he was going to say something, maybe to apologise again, but she found she didn't need him to. Perhaps he was waiting for her to say something, but what? Her first impression was to supportively assure him that Daryl would be fine, that he'd return home to them victorious…it wouldn't help.

"Good night," she whispered, hoping that was enough. There was a long pause, and she unconsciously held her breath.

"Good night."

* * *

A/N - Two chapters next week, just to speed things along for you all. Please don't forget to leave a review for me to enjoy, it's the only form of payment I get for my work! Thanks for sticking with the story!


	16. Chapter 16

Daryl had been gone for a week and a half now…a week and a half in which the family he left behind were forced to carry on as though a part of them weren't missing. Despite the heated argument the two of them had, and the difficulty in getting through their final meal together while acting as though nothing was amiss, Rick knew with absolute certainty that he could not let Daryl leave Alexandria without resolution. They needed to talk things through, and they'd be best to do it while they had the luxury of privacy…he could see only one opportunity for that. The morning of the departure, Daryl and Carl were planning to take one final hunt together, their last opportunity to spend time together.

On the mornings they went hunting, Daryl would come into the bedroom and rouse Carl at an early hour. On these mornings Rick normally slept on until Carl was ready to depart, always asking that his son wake him before he left. This morning however, he roused the moment Daryl entered the bedroom, and instead of going back to sleep he got up. Rearranging the pillows around Judith, who increasingly refused to sleep in her crib, he pulled on a shirt and raced downstairs before Carl had even brushed his teeth. Taking the privacy the early hour afforded them, he joined Daryl out on the front porch before the sun had even risen, and he knew on instinct that everything would be alright. Daryl was leaving, not even Carol capable of convincing him to stay, but Rick felt a confidence that he hadn't the day before. His initial anger had stemmed from Daryl's deceit, from his idiotic belief that he could leave his family with little or no warning…knowing Daryl the way he did, Rick knew he had to forgive this oversight. As they waited for Carl to come down with his crossbow and weapons, Rick and Daryl talked quietly and cleared the air between them.

"I'm sorry for how I acted yesterday," Rick started, not skirting around the subject. "And I'm sorry for hitting you."

Perched on the railing with a cigarette dangling between his lips, it took Daryl a moment to respond, almost as if he didn't know how to react…hadn't Merle ever afforded him an apology for something?

"Nah. I deserved that one," he muttered, trailing off before clearing his throat. "I'm sorry too…yah know, for not tellin' yah."

The words were as simple as that, neither of them needing long, elaborate apologies. In ten seconds all that had happened yesterday was over and done with, although in the back of his mind Rick would harbour lingering resentment for some time. It was difficult to understand why Daryl hadn't been truthful with him, and why he'd put Carol into the awkward position of deceiving him too. He was a good leader, wasn't he? At least better than he had once been…he listened, he was flexible…even at his most determined his mind could be swayed by his people, and yet Daryl hadn't trusted him with the truth. But for now that lingering resentment and blow to his confidence would wait.

"Are you at least going to take the RV?" he asked, refusing Daryl's offer to take a drag from his cigarette…that in itself was an apology.

Daryl snorted derisively. "After knowin' what goes on in that bedroom? No thanks. Rather sleep in the dirt."

Much to his surprise, Rick actually blushed. No one in their group really acknowledged it if they happened to know what he and Carrie were doing outside the walls. "I'd change the sheets for you."

"Well that's thoughtful," Daryl muttered, glancing into the kitchen where he could hear Carl opening the pantry, rummaging for a quick breakfast. "Nah, it's too big to be gettin' around in. The Hyundai will be alright."

"And you're taking the bike?" he confirmed, not liking the idea that two vehicles meant they wouldn't be able to share the driving.

Nodding, Daryl smiled. "Bet your ass I am."

Later that morning, when the final hunt was concluded and they were packed and ready to go, Aaron and Daryl lingered by the gates to say their farewells. Aside from the very real danger of death, Rick could not find a compelling reason that they should stay or postpone, knowing that not even his mistrust of people from the outside would convince Daryl not to go. If lost, none of their maps would indicate their settlement in Alexandria, they had plenty of food, weapons, ammunition, batteries, medical kit, sleeping bags, clothes…Carol had even slipped a bottle of liquid detergent and a bucket into the Hyundai when Daryl wasn't looking. They might be living rough, but at least their clothes could smell like lavender. With no compelling reason to make him stay, Rick was forced to let Daryl go.

Daryl lingered only long enough to farewell Carol, she receiving a slightly longer and tighter hug than anyone else. Reminding Glenn to look after Maggie, whose belly was swelling with pregnancy, Daryl swung his leg over Merle's old bike and put his sunglasses on, refusing all requests to wear a helmet. The engine roared to life and then settled, and when the gates opened Daryl simply left without fuss, Aaron following him out before the gate was closed again seconds later. Left behind, Rick put his hand on Carl's shoulder and took him home, comforting his son's grief while pretending his wasn't just as painful.

Despite the way Rick wanted to put the world on hold until Daryl's return, life continued on without him. The only reassurance he had was the agreement that they would check in every two weeks, that they'd replenish their supplies and get a good night's rest before departing again the next day. It wasn't a guarantee, particularly if they had started following someone to observe them, but Rick had firmly told Aaron and Daryl that he'd be waiting for them, his worry worsening every day they were late. Since then, Sasha had been the one to occasionally take Carl outside the walls for hunting, she being one of the only people Rick trusted who could sit still long enough to get the job done. Though Sasha's demeanour in general was still harsh and prickly, Carl assured him that they got on well outside the walls.

Life continued as normal. The run crew made supply runs, construction on the walls continued slowly, and the beginning of firearm training had begun too. Their initial sessions had been postponed by rain that fell the very day Daryl and Aaron departed for recruiting, and only three had turned up to the session following that, much to Rick's annoyance. But just like it had been a struggle to convince the Alexandrian's to start taking watch from the new posts they built, this too would be a goal reached slowly. Unless something drastic happened to give them all a wake up call, that Rick was forced to work them at their own pace. He both looked forward to and dreaded whatever that wake up call might be.

There were more firearm sessions scheduled for the weekend, and even though he knew they wouldn't get any further than focusing on basic gun safety, Rick knew he would have to endure it. For now, it wouldn't matter if the most progress he made was to teach the people how to handle weapons safely…it was a start, and was better progress than they had made since their arrival. Following safety lessons, he'd have to work on convincing people to actually leave the walls in order to start actually shooting far away from Alexandria, that having been one of the main hold ups. Nevertheless, he knew exactly who he was going to target first. Jessie and Denise had been the first ones to attend the safety training without being nagged, and while he would have liked to get Pete outside the walls and assess his gun skills, he knew Deanna would never allow him to endanger their best doctor.

But all those problems would wait until the weekend…Rick had an entire Friday to get through first. Technically it was his day off today, meaning that it was Michonne who did the rounds morning and night. He was perfectly at liberty to take a short walk outside the walls, particularly if he was in the mood to steal a quickie with Carrie in the RV, but she seemed busy today. The gardens were fine, Judith was happily playing, Carl was at Ron's house, all the watch posts were sufficiently covered…Rick had absolutely nothing he needed to do today.

He hated it.

Unsure of how to occupy himself, he simply hung around the house, wandering in and out of rooms as though he had forgotten what he'd entered them for. He had watched the security cameras for some time, and when he quickly grew bored of that he considered tidying up the mess his garage had become. Glenn had brought back a Lego Death Star for he and Carl to build, but with the worry of Judith finding stray pieces and choking on them, they'd agreed to build it in the garage…but first Rick had to clean it up. But today the task felt insurmountable, and so he hadn't even tried. Instead he inflicted his company upon Carol, joining her in the living room where she was watching an episode of Bones. He recalled many nights when Lori watched this religiously, and he remembered the way he'd sit with her, the two of them usually curled up under a blanket with a glass of wine. He mostly hated cop shows, and endured watching them only to spend time with his wife…even when things were bad, they always sat down to this show together.

"I know who the killer is," he told Carol, remembering the episode.

"Good for you."

"It's not him," he said, referring to the man Booth and Brennan had in the interrogation room.

Carol gave a long sigh, glaring at him from the corner of her eye. "Don't you have a book to read? The James Patterson one I gave you?"

He looked back at the television, observing the characters. "She's not the killer either."

"You're forgetting that I know how your book ends," she warned him.

Heeding her threat, he behaved himself, though when she nudged his feet off the coffee table he promptly put them back up anyway. Not to anyone's surprise, she'd been feeling rather down since Daryl's departure, the burden of worrying about him rather difficult to bear. Just as Rick was about to comment about the episode again, feeling the need to get Carol riled up, the television screen flickered and then went to black, a low buzz becoming audible before there was absolute silence.

She sighed in worry. "That's the second black out this week."

Rick got up and reached for the light switch behind the couch, flicking it and seeing the lights turn on. "No, it's just another brown out." Heading over to the television and DVD player, he pressed the power buttons and restarted them, pleased to see that they whirred back to life, the LCD panels illuminating. "I thought Eugene said he fixed it."

"He did," Carol nodded, getting up and going to check on the refrigerator. "He said it was just corrosion on some connections. But the electrical grid's a prototype, who knows how long it will last."

"We've got contingencies," he reminded her.

"Well, hopefully this is the last problem we have," she muttered darkly, the two of them sitting back down as she skipped the DVD back to the scene they were up to.

Watching the rest of the episode, he went as far as changing to the next disc before making a pot of tea at Carol's request. Watching television was filling the time well enough, even though he could feel a kind of restless energy inside himself. Like he did any day he was forced to take a break from things, he felt a little agitated and on edge, feeling as though something was going to happen the moment he tried to relax. An hour later when Judith began looking ready for her morning nap, Rick dutifully attended to her needs, glad he had something productive to do. It was frustrating the way Judith was becoming increasingly clingy to he and Carol, for not only was it distressing when she cried every time they left, it was making general practicalities rather difficult. Not even Carl was good enough when she was feeling particularly clingy. Knowing that Judith was certainly exhibiting particular traits that were just a normal phase, he chose to pick his battles with her.

Though he knew it was a poor habit to encourage, he let her take her morning nap on the bed rather than in her crib, tucking her up with a small bottle and her duck. She'd only sleep for about an hour, a quick power nap that would get her through until her longer sleep in the afternoon, and so Rick stretched out on the bed beside her and started reading. Despite his dislike of cop shows, mystery books were different…he and Shane used to race each other when a new James Patterson book was released, and they were usually hedging bets on the outcome. He had just started getting engrossed in the story when the sound of shouting made him pause, his brow furrowing as he listened. He instantly recognised Carl's voice, the sound of his apparent anger setting him on edge. Putting the book aside, he slipped over to the bedroom window and looked out, and though he couldn't see Carl, he did manage to hear a little more.

"….had enough of those things pointed at me!" he was yelling, sounding furious. "I don't need it from you too!"

Staying long enough only to arrange some pillows so that Judith couldn't roll off the bed, Rick headed downstairs and saw Carl almost run into Carol as he barrelled through the front door. His face was flushed and upset, his shoulders heaving with anger as he looked to Rick and loudly began to explain.

"Ron's got a-"

"Stop yelling," he said firmly, cutting Carl off mid sentence. "Take a breath."

Glowering, Carl clenched his jaw and looked at the ground as he did as he was told, and it was this motion that told Rick that whatever was wrong, it was serious. When Carl had a problem, he typically explained it straight out…he didn't often yell unless he was really angry. While Carol slipped outside and looked up the street where Ron and Jessie seemed to be talking, Rick waited patiently for Carl to explain.

"Ron's got a fake gun," he said as he looked up, his voice heavy with anger and distress.

"A what?"

"A fake gun! Like one of those simulation guns, except his looks real. He just pulled it out and started waving it around, he didn't tell me it was fake!"

Rick raised his eyebrows, immediately understanding the source of Carl's distress. "He has a fake gun, and he started waving it around?" he confirmed, suddenly getting a glimpse of Carl's hands. Reaching for them, he looked at the red scratches on the back of his hand and knuckles. "What happened here?"

"I told him to stop being an idiot, and then he pointed it at me," he answered angrily. "I grabbed it off him just like you taught me how, and then he tried to grab it back. That's only when I figured out it was a fake."

His jaw clenched, Rick glanced over at Carol, glad to see that she shared his concern and disapproval. "You did the right thing," Rick assured him, putting his hand on Carl's shoulder and making him look him in the eye. "You had the right reaction for the situation. Alright?"

"I know," he said quietly, relieved that his extreme response was being validated as appropriate.

"Go and calm down, check on your sister for me. She's napping."

"Are-"

"I'll take care of this," he assured him.

Carl hesitated for a moment, but he softly thanked Rick and then headed upstairs, looking as though he bore the weight of the world on his shoulders. As soon as he was out of earshot, Rick turned to Carol and sighed, folding his arms across his chest.

"I told you Ron was a brat," she remarked quietly.

Rick nodded, agreeing. "He doesn't have much choice in friends."

"Does he even like Ron?"

"No," he answered, having asked Carl this very question a few weeks ago. "At best he tolerates him."

There was a short pause, the two of them digesting what had happened. "What are you going to do?"

Unsure, Rick didn't immediately answer. He was saved from his uncertainty however, catching a glimpse of Jessie marching down the pavement towards the house. In her hands she seemed to be carrying a black hand gun by the barrel.

"I'll start by finding out what Jessie has to say."

Closing the front door behind him, he met Jessie out on the pavement, not surprised that she immediately apologised, profusely in fact. Like Carl, she seemed rather upset about what had happened, no doubt having been filled in by Ron…but even though she had only heard her son's side of the story, she was smart enough to take it seriously.

"I didn't know he had it," Jessie confessed, handing the simulation gun over. "He told me Nicholas gave it to him," she said incredulously.

This was not surprising. "I suppose Mikey has one too?" he asked, looking at the gun. Just as Carl had said, the heavy plastic looked and felt like a real Glock 17, and it was only a small streak of bright blue colour on the slide that indicated its true nature.

"If Nicholas gave this to Ron, he probably gave one to Mikey."

Assessing the slide a little more, he saw that the blue plastic had been crudely painted black, explaining the streak of blue he could see. Using his fingernail, he chipped a little more off, noting that it was the cheap paint middle schoolers would use. Glancing at the muzzle which was oval shaped as opposed to a perfect circle, he ejected the magazine, seeing that its base too had been painted. The rounds were bright blue, and when he pressed his finger nail against the tip, he confirmed what he suspected. The bullet itself was in fact made of a plastic polymer, and when it struck a person it was designed to burst and tag them blue. Though non-lethal, the gun could be enough to knock even Abraham on his ass if a few rounds were fired in quick succession. Counting the rounds in the magazine, he pulled back the slide and ejected one more.

He wondered if Ron understood what he had done…if he knew there was a round ready to fire.

"I'm so sorry, Rick," Jessie said again. "Pete and I will take care of this. Ron should know better than to act like that."

Rick nodded, accepting her remorse for her son's actions. "He needs to understand that to anyone he points this at, it's perceived as a real to them. Especially for someone like Carl," he added, remembering what he had heard him yelling. _I've had enough of those things pointed at me, I don't need it from you too._

"Yes, absolutely. Pete and I will take care of this, I promise. Plus, I'm going to have a few choice words for Nicholas too."

"I second that," he agreed, picking up the round he had ejected and sliding it into the magazine. "He can't go handing out guns to kids, fake or not."

"Thanks for understanding," she said, giving a long sigh as she brushed her hair back in exasperation. "Could Ron come over and apologise to Carl?"

Flexing his jaw, Rick glanced back at his house. "I'd give it an hour or so…maybe before school."

Jessie smiled grimly. "Thanks again for understanding."

He nodded. "I'll see you around," he said, watching her as she started heading home. Frowning, he noticed the odd item of clothing she was wearing. "A little warm for a turtleneck sweater, isn't it?"

Looking back, Jessie gave an awkward laugh. "Oh, this? It's actually really thin, it's not hot at all."

"Right," he muttered, getting a strange feeling in the pit of his stomach. Nevertheless, he turned his back on her and headed inside again. "Carl?"

"I'm here," he said, sitting at the kitchen counter looking rather glum. "I heard what Jessie said."

"Good. You alright?"

"Yeah."

Seeing that he meant it, Rick placed the gun on the counter before him, putting the magazine next to it. "The bullets are designed to burst on impact."

"Oh," he muttered, pressing his finger against them and feeling the way they flexed.

"You still had the right reaction," Rick reminded him. "You did exactly what you've been taught to do."

"Ron needs firearm training," Carl remarked lowly. Double checking that the gun was clear, he looked it over, testing the way it felt in his hands. "Jessie came to the safety session, why didn't Ron?"

"Pete said no, apparently."

"Well that's stupid."

"Yes, it is."

"Do I really have to let him apologise, and then go to school with him?" Carl asked.

"Yes," he said firmly.

"But-"

"I know you're upset, and you're angry at him…but life goes on," he told him, repeating the mantra he'd been telling himself since Daryl's departure. "Alright?"

Carl sighed, looking back at the gun again. "Alright."

Glad that the argument about school was concluded before it began, Rick picked up the gun and slid the magazine in place. "Take this upstairs, and put it in our safe," he told Carl quietly, handing it to him. "Put it with our other gun."

"But it's not even real."

"It can stop a man if you're in a pinch…if you get a lucky shot through the eye socket, it will stop a Walker too. Put it with our other gun."

Sighing reluctantly, Carl nodded and then slid off his stool. "Thanks, Dad."

Feeling the stress Carl exuded, Rick sighed as he looked up at the empty coffee pot. Deciding that's exactly what he needed, he brewed another pot as he listened to Carl heading up the stairs while Carol bustled around in the laundry, moving their clothing from the washing machine to the dryer. Starting to feel tired, although it was barely eleven thirty in the morning, he rested his elbows on the kitchen bench and watched as the coffee pot started dripping.

* * *

Putting on a pleasant smile, Carrie looked at the women who she was joining for the coffee date, seeing Barbara, Shelly, Anna, Erin, Rosemary and Stacey crowded onto the front porch, as well as Betsy who was coming from inside the house. She'd grown used to this type of thing throughout her time in Alexandria, although frankly she'd rather hang out with the Walkers…they might be dangerous, but at least she didn't need to fake a smile to get through five minutes alone with one. A machete was all she needed against a Walker…tact and pleasantries were required for the women of Alexandria.

"Sorry I'm late," she apologised, climbing the steps to Betsy's front porch. "It took longer than expected out there."

"That's alright, Jessie's running late too," Betsy assured her, putting down a tray laden with cupcakes.

"Is Carol with you?" Shelly enquired.

Carrie was prepared for this question. "No. I think she has a cold," she lied tactfully.

"Oh, that's too bad," Betsy said in disappointment. "Sit down, Carrie. Sit down."

"Actually, can I use your powder room?" she asked, holding up her hands and then gesturing to the community's walls.

"Of course, you know where it is."

Sharing yet another smile, Carrie maintained her pleasant facade until she found privacy in the powder room. Closing the door and locking it behind herself, she took a deep breath and basked in the solitude for a moment, needing it before she endured the next half hour.

Being friends with these women was a necessary part of her role here in Alexandria. Much like Carol, Carrie had been tasked with the important role of building and maintaining relationships, of winning people over and earning their trust. The task was an ongoing effort, one that sometimes made her question whether or not she was really capable of it. She hadn't exactly made the best impression at Deanna's party, particularly in regards to Shelly and Barbara, but then it seemed their naivety worked in her favour. Just as Rick had assured her, the Alexandrian's were happier pretending that everything that was alright. The faux pa she had made at the party was quickly brushed aside, at least publicly anyway…she suspected that among certain people what she had said was the subject of much gossip.

Those events brought her to where she was now, hiding in Betsy's bathroom as she prepared to get through yet another coffee date that never seemed to end. With little else to do aside from the book club, the school and the pantry, the women of Alexandria tended to get together most days for coffee and the occasional slice of cake, needing something to pass the time. Those like Carrie on the other hand didn't need coffee dates to fill the time, they were kept busy with the general running and upkeep of this place, of keeping it safe and secure. Sighing as she thought about this, she reminded herself of what they were working towards, of the reason she put herself through these coffee dates. By earning their trust and friendship, when the time came for the Alexandrian's to step up and accept the reality of the world, people like Carrie and Carol would be established trustees, someone who could offer encouragement and support. It wasn't going to be an easy transition from fantasy land to reality…it was essential that Carrie do her job and gain trust. For people like Rick, Daryl, Abraham and Michonne, who were perceived as a little too extreme by the Alexandrian's, it was essential they had someone to speak for them, to support the things they were doing. That was Carrie's job.

She had slowly grown to genuinely like these women, but it was exhausting to be around them, both physically and emotionally. They were always so cheerful and perky, making her question how the hell that did that. It always came down to the fact that their heads were buried in the sand, that they lived their lives in a heavily shrouded delusion that allowed them to be cheerful and perky all the time. They truly had nothing to worry about, because they chose to ignore it. It was a stark contrast to Carrie's group, her family. Although they had good days and experienced genuine happiness, they had bad days too, bad moments and bad moods…everyone knew how to judge Michonne's body language, and how to tell the difference between Abraham being crabby and being genuinely mad. In Carrie's opinion these varying emotions were essential for them, a necessity that meant they could enjoy the happier days even more. But with the women of Alexandria, every emotion she showed was faked, because despite the fact that she'd grown to like them, she had no emotional connection with them.

Grateful that today she had already made an excuse that would get her out of this, having convinced Rosita and Michonne to go jogging with her that afternoon, Carrie turned to the sink and began washing her hands and forearms. She and Rosita had spent the last two hours clearing the Walkers off the spikes and hauling them into the pits for burial, and it had taken a lot longer than they anticipated. It was messy work, and with a coffee date coming up Carrie had tried her best to stay clean, ignoring Rosita's mockery as she donned a set of coveralls. Carol had enough laundry to do without her adding to the load by constantly changing her clothes throughout the day, but her efforts to stay clean hadn't been completely successful.

Trying not to make a mess, she rubbed some soap and water up her forearms and hastily scrubbed at her nails, next turning to her light grey jeans. She did her best to clean off the few smears of blood she acquired as she removed her coveralls, knowing that the sight of it wouldn't be well received by those she was sharing coffee and cupcakes with. Doing what she could, she leant over the sink next and washed her face and neck before tidying her hair. She really ought to have gone home and cleaned up properly, but she was running late already…of all the things to worry about, she was concerned over being late for coffee.

Checking her hair one last time, she braced herself before joining the others. Saying hello to David, who was tactfully retreating into the garage, Carrie headed for the front porch where Betsy was setting down a tray laden with a coffee pot, milk and sugar. But as she came outside a discernible hush fell over the women, their eyes averted as small smiles appeared on their faces. Able to tell the difference between when they were talking about her, and embarrassment, Carrie was confident it was the latter.

"Oh go on," she chided in good nature, smiling as she took her seat beside Rosemary. "What were you talking about?"

Barbara barely managed to contain a giggle as she explained, speaking over Erin's shout of protest. "Erin was just busy fawning over Alexandria's constable."

"Oh, Michonne?" Carrie teased, though she knew who they referred to. It seemed her teasing was the right way to go, for everyone chuckled and laughed at Erin's expense.

"No. Rick," Erin sighed, shaking her head at Barbara. "Thanks for throwing me in the deep end there, Barb."

"You don't have to hide it from me because I'm his house mate," Carrie assured her, intrigued to know exactly what Erin thought. "Go on…"

A general laugh at Erin's expense swept the group, Betsy practically beaming as she passed around cups and saucers before pouring the coffee.

"I can't help it," Erin smiled, her cheeks still pink with embarrassment. "That man in uniform just gets me going."

"It's the baby," explained Rosemary. "Judith. You see a good looking man with his kids and it just makes your ovaries go crazy. It's human instinct."

"He took her for a walk this morning," Erin added with a small smile.

"We know!" Shelly said, her voice always a little louder than absolutely necessary. "I could see you watching him from your window!"

"I was not!"

"Yes you were, don't deny it."

Erin blushed even harder, looking into her tea cup and giggling. "Alright, I was."

Not blaming her, Carrie shared in the group's laughter, highly amused by the fact that Erin had been checking Rick out. Though they'd become good friends on the surface, everyone seemed highly conscious of who Carrie lived with, and in particular her loyalty to the man who had saved her life. Conversation at the coffee meetings never strayed towards Carrie's group, and rarely was someone like Rick discussed in such a candid manner. Curious about what they all had to say, she encouraged Erin to continue, and just as their teasing escalated they were briefly interrupted by Jessie's arrival, who was running late like Carrie.

"I'm so sorry," she apologised, slumping down between Carrie and Rosemary as she gratefully accepted a cup of coffee. Seeing that she looked rather harried and stressed out, Carrie felt a flicker of concern for her.

"What happened?" Betsy enquired as she passed the sugar pot. "We were worried, you're never late for cupcakes."

Jessie gave a long sigh, looking like she was at her wits end. "It's Ron, he…I don't even want to talk about what he did, honestly…I need a cupcake, please. Thank you," she said gratefully, glad when Betsy passed her one with chocolate frosting. Taking a sip of her coffee, Jessie's shoulders slumped as she gave a long sigh.

"Better?" Rosemary asked sympathetically, patting her on the arm.

"Much better," she agreed, restlessly pulling at the sleeves on her long sweater before swapping her coffee for her cup cake. "So, I could hear you ladies giggling from my house. What's going on?"

"We're just teasing Erin," Barbara explained. "She's finally admitted she has a crush on Rick."

Her mouth full of frosting, Jessie stifled her laughter before glancing at Carrie from the corner of her eye, the two of them sharing a meaningful look that went unnoticed by the others. Jessie was about the only one outside of the family that knew for sure Rick and Carrie were sleeping together, having caught Carrie in a rather disheveled state when she came by looking for Sam one afternoon. Taking advantage of a brief window of opportunity while Carl was at school and Judith was sleeping, Rick and Carrie had thrown caution to the wind when they passed one another on the staircase…one thing led to another until Jessie arrived at the front door. Given that Rick was in absolutely no state to be receiving a visitor, it was Carrie who had to hastily straighten her clothes and rush to the front door, but Jessie had been able to tell. There was no point in trying to be subtle when your _sex hair_ said it all.

"I don't blame you for having a crush on him," Jessie smiled, wiping frosting off her lower lip. "I saw him shirtless once, the day I cut his hair. Yummy."

Her latter remark caused quite the uproar of laughter, Betsy and Erin choking on their coffee as their eyes began to water. Carrie too laughed, although for once her emotion wasn't fake. Dirty gossiping about Rick it was a pleasant change - the fact she had a good in depth understanding the subject helped too.

"I should have been a stylist," Erin moaned dramatically. "Carrie? You must have seen him shirtless once, right? At home? On the supply run?"

Carrie had to force herself to keep a straight face. She'd seen Rick more than shirtless - Erin had no idea what she was missing out on. Playing along, she just shrugged and pretended to be embarrassed. "Oh, not really, no."

"What about on the supply run?" Stacey pressed her.

"Yeah, did you ever…do something?" Anna asked suggestively.

"Come on, you know how it is," Shelley encouraged when Carrie feigned embarrassment. "A bunch of men and women, camping out for days on end…surely something happened between the two of you."

This was one of the offhand comments that made Carrie want to grind her teeth, the naive assumption that what they did on the supply run was no more dangerous than camping. But despite her frustration, Carrie smiled and gave an answer.

"It's not like that with us. And it's definitely not like that out on the road," she chuckled. "No, honestly! We showered twice in three weeks, and we lived off canned beans. No one was in the mood to fool around," she lied.

When there was a disappointed sigh, Carrie knew her lie had been believed. It was a good thing too, for she abided by Jessie's warning that she shouldn't trust these women with her secrets.

"Rick was married for a long time, wasn't he?" Barbara asked, continuing when she got nods of agreement. "I love Kent, but a man like Rick? I bet he doesn't need a road map to find a clitoris."

There was a roar of laughter again, thankfully one that hid Carrie's amusement for this remark. Unable to help herself, she too shook with laughter, beginning to enjoy this coffee date more and more. These women had no idea that she and Rick were sleeping together, that they had been within two weeks of meeting one another. Indulging herself while she wiped away tears of laughter, she longingly thought about the last time she and Rick had time alone, the hurried quickie they'd had in her bedroom a few days ago. With little time until their various house mates came home, he'd simply pulled down her jeans and pushed her onto the bed, getting to work between her legs with his mouth and hands. Barbara was right…he didn't need a road map to find what he was looking for.

Their roar of laughter quickly died away as someone appeared on the street. It was only Tobin, having briefly returned from his day out at the construction site to collect lunch and cold drinks, and he raised his hand and waved.

"Good morning, Ladies," he greeted them cordially, carrying two coolers to the trunk of a car.

"Good morning, Tobin," they replied in unison, making him blush as they all smiled and waved at him.

Looking a little shy, Tobin loaded the coolers and then glanced up at Carrie as he got into the driver's seat. Since their return to Alexandria they hadn't spent much time together, at least not to the extent that had on the supply run, and she had to admit she missed Tobin's gentle and kind nature. When she'd first arrived here, the heavy attention she'd received from everyone had been rather disconcerting, but from the men in particular. She knew they meant no harm, that they were only being friendly and welcoming, but she'd found herself constantly feeling on edge around so many men she didn't know. It was no surprise to her, she'd felt the same way when she'd joined Rick's group and found herself surrounded by strange men, but since her arrival in Alexandria Tobin had gone out of his way to help her feel comfortable. At Deanna's suggestion she had joined the construction crew to help cover the look out post, and when he'd noticed how nervous she seemed to be in joining a large group of rowdy men, of whom she knew only Abraham and Tobin, he'd made a point of helping her settle in, of making her feel comfortable.

"Tobin's a cutie too," Anna smiled, the group watching as he drove through the gate and Holly closed it behind him.

There were general murmurs of agreement, echoed by Stacey who remarked, "I'd go there."

"Don't waste your breath," Shelly warned her.

"Oh? What do you know?"

"It's not what I know…it's what I suspect."

"Go on, what do you suspect?" Erin encouraged impatiently.

"Well, I think he's got a little thing for…Carol."

This caught Carrie's interest, her curiosity and nosiness aroused. "Really?" she questioned as a murmur of surprise swept through them. "Carol?"

"He's interested in Carol?"

"No way," Barbara disagreed.

"Well think about it," Shelly argued passionately. "He always needs something from the pantry when she's on duty, always. Check the inventory. Every time Carol has a shift, Tobin goes to get something. Sometimes he even goes twice!"

"Coincidence," Anna shook her head. "You need more proof."

"Alright…lately he spends a lot of time visiting Bob and Natalie. Who else spends a lot of time visiting Bob and Natalie?"

"Ahhhh, Carol."

"I'm telling you, he's working her."

Stacey gave a loud gasp. "Now that you mention it, I've been asking Tobin for weeks now to come to the school and fix the book shelf. When does he finally do it?"

"When Carol was there?"

"That's right," she nodded, leaning forward as she continued. "Monday morning he turned up with his full kit. I mean the tool box and the tool belt and a pencil behind his ear. Everything."

"He must have been trying to use the sexy handy man vibe," Rosemary said suggestively. "You know, a man who can take care of a leaky tap can take care of his lady."

"And…" Stacey continued as they laughed. "Given that he was fixing the top shelf, he spent an awful lot of time bending over."

The burst into laughter again, Betsy shaking her head in exasperation as she stood up and began to dispense coffee refills. "You know, I'm surprised he hasn't taken up baking, just so he can go and give Carol a cookie to try."

Barbara stifled a laugh for a moment, looking as if she was trying to resist voicing the thought that popped into her head. A moment later she threw caution to the wind. "Betsy, if he is interested in Carol, then he's going to be more interested in trying _her_ cookie…you know what I mean?"

There was an immediate roar of laughter, this one even greater than the previous. Laughing until her stomach hurt, Carrie's eyes watered as she looked at Jessie beside her. "Stop it!" Jessie pleaded through her laughter, her legs tightly crossed. "I've had two babies, I don't have the pelvic floor for this!"

"Oh my God, Ladies," Carrie pretended to scold them as their laughter finally died down. "I had no idea this kind of dirty gossip was hiding inside you all…no keep going, I love it!" she assured them as she dabbed at her eyes with a napkin.

Erin looked embarrassed, but comfortably so. "We don't normally gossip or talk dirty like this."

"You started it!" Anna teased. "Salivating over Rick Grimes like he's a piece of meat."

"Jessie's the one who called him yummy!"

As their laughter died down and they each settled back with fresh cups of coffee, the amusement and gossip began to settle…but not for long.

"Is Rick single?" Erin asked, clearly unable to help herself.

Shelly looked affronted by this question. "He's widowed, Erin. You know that."

"Yeah, but is he seeing anyone?"

Clearly disapproving, Shelly shook her head. "I don't think that's a priority for him. He has two young children to think of."

"So he should be a monk?" Erin challenged, looking to everyone else for support. "Come on, he's still a man."

"Yeah," Betsy agreed. "He's a widow, doesn't mean he has to be celibate."

Clearing her throat, Barbara waited until everyone was looking at her, and she brushed her long red hair over her shoulder before she spoke. "I heard a rumour that Rick's not celibate at all…far from it, in fact."

As interest swept the group, Carrie felt her heart speeding up uncomfortably. If these women knew, or even suspected, she was going to have to do a lot to make sure they kept it to themselves, to make sure that not even a whisper of it got back to Carl. Feigning the right amount of curiosity, Carrie held her breath as she waited for Barbara to continue.

"I heard there's a woman he knows quite well," she continued, and when she looked Carrie in the eye she swore her heart actually stopped. "Michonne."

As the others broke out into murmurs of agreement or contradiction, Carrie ensured that she maintained her poker face, that her relief didn't reach her expression. She raised her eyebrows as though this was news to her, for even though it seemed Barbara wasn't onto her, she still needed to be careful about what was said.

"Carrie?" Stacey enquired, turning to her. "Is it true?"

"Yeah," Erin added, looking worried.

"I don't know," she lied, pretending to be curious about it. "But it seems unlikely…Rick and Michonne are very close, but not in a romantic way."

"It's just a rumour," Barbara reminded them, trying to minimise her culpability in its spread.

Glancing down the street, Carrie took notice of Carl and Ron walking towards them, and this prompted her to speak up about something concerning. "Just…" she started, feeling the need to nip this in the bud. "Be careful with rumours about Rick, especially ones like this. Carl would be really upset if he heard this type of news from the wrong person."

It seemed her polite reminder was enough to shame them into contrition, for all but one of them gave nods of agreement. Ever incessant, Shelly continued the topic, pushing on. "When men and women live in close quarters, trying to just be friends? Something is bound to happen," she stated, truly believing it.

"Men and women can't be friends?" Rosemary challenged her. "At all?"

Shelly appeared to think about this. "Single men and women can't be friends," she corrected herself. "If there's the opportunity for hooky, eventually someone is going to act on it."

Thoroughly disagreeing, Carrie reminded herself that Shelly simply didn't understand the depth of relationships people could develop with one another. For someone like Rick and Michonne, they'd been through so much together that they didn't need romance to deepen the relationship they had. For Carrie it had been the same case with Wade, the man who had saved her from a dumpster in Atlanta back in the early days of the outbreak. People in their first group had always suspected they were sleeping together, but aside from occasionally sharing a tent, their relationship was platonic. They were close, but neither of them had considered trying to take it further. In the days when the collapse of civilisation was still raw, some people turned to sex to get through it…Carrie and Wade hadn't felt the need…at least she hadn't. As for the relationship between she and Rick, that hadn't come about because of convenience…it was genuine attraction, not the fact they happened to be in one another's proximity.

Although the others continued gossiping, they made a point of lowering their voices when Rosemary pointed out who it was passing them by. Watching Ron and Carl, Carrie took a few moments to observe Carl's body language, getting the feeling that something wasn't right. Though he and Ron were talking as usual, they didn't walk side by side like they normally did - rather there was a significant gap between them. On that note, Carl looked particularly annoyed by something. Noting that, Carrie was surprised to see that Jessie was also observing the two teens, and that she looked worried.

"Everything okay?" she asked quietly, Jessie's worry making her feel the same.

Jessie nodded slowly, her expression brightening when Ron and Carl looked up at them. But the moment they looked away, she sighed in worry. "Just when I think he's maturing," she muttered glumly, turning to look at Carrie. "He goes and proves me wrong."

"Ron? What happened?"

"It's a long story. I'm sure Carl will tell you all about it later."

"Di-"

"Carrie?" Shelly said loudly, having been trying to get her attention. "It must be difficult for you?"

"Sorry? What's difficult?"

Shelly chuckled to herself. "We were just saying…a young, beautiful woman like yourself? It must be difficult living with a handsome man like Rick."

Realising they were back to him again, Carrie laughed in good nature, reminding herself to play along. She thought about Daryl for a moment, annoyed that everyone seemed to forget about him, that he too was a good looking man she lived with. Daryl could be quite charismatic when he tried…although given that he refused to brush his hair off his face and his smiles were too rare, she had to forgive their oversight.

"Sure it's difficult," she agreed. "But, once you've seen him cutting his toe nails in the living room, it kind of ruins the magic."

"I'd put up with that," Erin said bluntly. "Really, I would."

"Does he at least put the clippings in the trash?" Betsy asked, her expression darkening. "David doesn't. We've been married over a year, and I still find piles of toe nail clippings on the coffee table."

There was a chorus of revolted groans, a few of them cringing at the thought. Now that Carl had gone to school, Carrie was tempted by a particular thought that occurred to her, knowing she had the opportunity to mess with Rick…even if it was at the expense of someone else.

"So, Erin," she smiled. "You've got a crush on Rick. Are you going to do something about it?" _Rick's going to love this._

"No, no way," she shook her head immediately, ignoring the others who protested her cowardice.

"Oh come on!" Anna encouraged, nudging her playfully.

"You're not even going to try?"

Erin shook her head insistently. "No…I don't want to ruin the fantasy."

Carrie grinned on the inside. The reality was much better than the fantasy.

"Besides, he's got two kids," Erin continued. "That's a whole lot of drama up front."

"Go on!" Rosemary encouraged. "You don't have to ask for his hand in marriage. Just ask him on a date."

"On a date? Here, where you can all spy on us from your windows? I don't think so! Besides, Rick's kind of…intimidating."

This time it was Jessie who protested this. "No, he's not. Honestly, Erin, you should just get to know him. He's not intimidating at all."

Erin shook her head, disbelieving them. "Uh uh…how do I explain it?" she asked, looking to Shelly for help.

"You know what I think it is?" she supplied. "I think he's like a Tiger."

Stacey purred loudly, raising her hand like a claw and causing an eruption of laughter. Feeling her eyes begin to water again, Carrie couldn't help but agree with Shelly's analogy, although she wouldn't share that information with them.

"No, I mean that he…" Shelly trailed off with a sigh, forced to wait for their laughter to die down. "He's like a Tiger in that it's only safe to admire him from a distance. You want to pet him, but you know if you try he'll probably bite your hand off."

Erin sighed loudly. "I'd still go there."

"So ask him out!" Carrie encouraged her.

"No!"

"But you just said-"

"I know what I said," she moaned. "But I'm too much of a coward. All I want is for him to suddenly realise he's madly attracted to me, and to sweep me off my feet. Is that so much to ask for?"

The atmosphere changed, the tone and nature of their conversation needing to be set aside thanks to the sudden arrival of the community's five youngest children, aside from Judith. Sam, Hayley, Courtney, Dean and Connor arrived to greet their mothers, dropping their school bags as their interest was caught by the cupcakes.

"How was school?" Jessie enquired, looking exasperated as Sam took a seat on her lap. "Were you well behaved for Paula?"

"I always am," he insisted, helping himself to the bottom half of Jessie's cupcake.

"Did you concentrate on your own work instead of getting distracted?" she enquired, her direct question indicating that this was an ongoing issue.

Sam sighed, looking at his mother apologetically. "Most of the time…I finished my work first, and then I helped Connor."

"Okay," Jessie nodded, giving him a swift kiss on the cheek. "Now get off, you're too grown up to be sitting on my lap."

As Sam groaned and protested, Carrie took pity on him and got to her feet. "Why don't you take my spot, Sam? I have to go."

"Cool, thanks," he said, sliding onto where she had been sitting. "Hey, is Carol at home?"

"Yes, but she's sick today," she lied again. "I don't think it's a good time to visit."

"Oh, goodness!" Shelly exclaimed, leaping to her feet. "I was supposed to take over the north watch ten minutes ago!"

There was a flurry of light hearted exasperation for Shelly's tardiness, but also for the task itself. None of the Alexandrian's felt that having so many watch posts was necessary, which made their participation in the task a major achievement for Rick and his group. With that in mind, Sasha who managed the watch was particularly accommodating when it came to arranging shifts and tolerating complacency…in Carrie's opinion she was too accommodating, but for now the watch posts were running smoothly and were always covered.

As Shelly rushed off to cover the north post, Carrie began making her farewells. Thanking Betsy profusely for the coffee, cupcakes and gossip, a combination she had actually enjoyed for once, she set off for home, glad that she had a ready made excuse up her sleeve. As much as she'd enjoyed her time there on this particular day, there was still only so much she could take. Walking down the street, she took the time to enjoy the fact that the weather seemed to be taking a pleasant turn towards the approaching summer. While the weather in Washington had been mild thus far, the warmth from the sun was a definite indicator that a hot summer was approaching. Remembering something she had seen stored into the shipping container, a large above ground pool that Aidan and Nicholas had scavenged last summer, Carrie was looking forward to drinking cocktails as she lay sun baking on an inflatable lounge.

"What's going on?" she asked in dismay, walking past the second house. Slowing to a stop, she narrowed her eyes at Rosita, Michonne and Tara who sat on the porch, none of whom appeared ready to go for their planned jog. "Aren't you guys coming?"

Tara groaned dramatically. "No, I'm out."

"Why?" Carrie asked, echoing her dramatic groan.

"I have my period, and there's no ice cream in the world," she replied very seriously. "I'm probably just going to sit here and die."

"Exercise will make you feel better."

"No, Ben and Jerry's will make me feel better."

"Is Sasha coming?"

"She's still sleeping after last night's watch shift."

"Michonne?"

"You know, I would…but it just sounds like a lot of effort," Michonne shrugged apologetically, gesturing down at her constable's uniform. "I'd have to get changed, put on decent shoes. I'll stay here and make sure Tara doesn't die."

Sighing, Carrie looked at Rosita next, narrowing her eyes. "Come on, if the others don't see me go for a jog with you, they'll know I was making excuses to get away from them."

"But, you _were_ making excuses to get away from them." When Carrie glared at her, Rosita sighed dramatically. "Why don't we do yoga instead? That's always fun."

Carrie put her hands on her hips. "Last time we did yoga, we just sat on the porch and drank wine."

"Well that's the best kind of yoga."

Being supportive, Tara nudged Rosita in the side. "You should probably go. You have been eating a lot of cake."

Rosita looked at her in outrage. " _Puta!_ So have you!"

Climbing the steps, Carrie intervened before feelings got hurt. Tara could be a real bitch when she had her period. "Come on, 'Sita… _por favor?_ "

Her eyes narrowed, Rosita looked at her in exasperation. "You're not winning any favours with your bad pronunciation of my language…but fine, let's go. I'm going to make you regret this."

"Five minutes!" Carrie declared, pleased with her efforts and suitably intimidated by the threat. Rosita was a tough jogging partner, and an even tougher coach when it came to grappling and kick boxing. Between she and Michonne, Carrie had learnt a great deal during her time in Alexandria.

Glad she hadn't eaten more than one cupcake, for she knew Rosita was going to be pushing her today, she headed home and hastened to get dressed. She set aside the clothes she had been wearing and redressed into her yoga pants and bright pink tank top, wasting time as she hunted around in her closet for the right sports bra. As she slipped on her sneakers and tied the laces, she listened to the sound of Judith's laughter coming from the master bedroom, a loud shriek of delight making her smile. Carol was downstairs watching television, Michonne was with Tara and Carl was at school…that meant only Rick. Grinning to herself as she thought about the subject of the coffee date, Carrie secured her knife holster around her upper arm.

At the last minute she lingered in her bedroom, wondering if she should take her running jacket. It was generally expected that she did, for the layer of material on her would protect her against Walker scratches…but it was rather warm that day. Besides, a part of her wanted to know what Rick would say if she left the walls without it. Deciding to see what he said, she left it sitting on her bed and slipped her sunglasses on top of her head, departing not for the front door, but for Rick's bedroom from which she could still hear Judith's laughter. Curious as to what he was doing, she folded her arms and leant against the door frame as she looked in, smiling at what she saw. Rick and Judith sat together on the bed, the assortment of wipes, creams and unused diapers indicating he'd just been changing her. He looked pleasantly surprised to find her in his doorway.

"Going for a jog, huh?" he enquired, his eyes raking her up and down, taking in her yoga pants and tank top. Given what they normally got up to when she went out for a jog, she couldn't blame him for his interest.

"Yeah," she nodded. Returning the favour, she looked him up and down too, amused to see him dressed so casually in sweat pants and a tee shirt…and barefoot. "Rosita's coming with me though. Sorry."

"You're killing me here," he muttered, looking away as Judith handed him a tube of diaper cream.

Carrie lingered a little. "How's your day going?" she enquired, knowing he tended to get itchy feet when he was made to take time off. "Anything new?"

Rick sighed, running his hand through his hair. "Kind of dull. Ron pulled a gun on Carl, that was new."

"He what?" she exclaimed, wondering why Rick was being so casual about it. Listening to him explain, Carrie's heart rate slowly returned to normal, the incident explaining why Carl and Ron seemed out of sorts as they walked to school. "Geez…I bet Carl was pissed."

Rick nodded grimly. "Yeah, he was pretty upset actually. I made him accept Ron's apology."

"He shouldn't have?"

Rick paused, thinking carefully about his words. "I don't really approve of Ron as his friend…but he doesn't have a lot of choice about it."

"That's true," she agreed. None of them had much choice about the people they were friends with.

"Speaking of friends, how was your coffee date?" Rick enquired, poking his tongue out at Judith and eliciting a laugh from her.

She grinned at this, for what she had learnt wouldn't get old for a while yet. "It was great."

Her genuine tone seemed to take Rick by surprise, and he looked at her with a small amount of worry. "I could hear you lot laughing all the way down here. What were you talking about?"

"Men," she answered cryptically, enjoying the look of apprehension that crossed his face. "Men who don't need a map."

"A map to where?"

Keeping a straight face, she entered his bedroom and approached where he was sitting, enjoying the way his eyes raked up and down her body without apology. Coming close, she let her thigh rest against his knee as she bent over and whispered the answer into his ear, hearing his sharp in take of breath when he realised the nature of what she and the other women had been talking about.

"Am I one of those men who don't need a map?" As she expected he might, he reached over and lightly ran his hand up the inside of her thigh.

"You are. It made me think of what you did for me the other day…on my bed?"

She smiled when he rubbed his palm against the peak of her legs, although she hesitated at the thought of letting him do much more. Not only was Rosita waiting for her, Judith was mere feet away…she wasn't sure what the accepted protocol for babies was.

"Well, you were wearing these yoga pants. You know how I feel about them."

"You say the same thing about my jeans."

"What can I say? I like them too."

Indulging herself, despite Judith's close proximity, Carrie kissed him lightly, a mere brush of her lips over his before speaking again. "Can I tell you a secret?"

"Sure," he nodded, still rubbing his hand between her legs.

"Erin's got a crush on you," she told him, kissing him again. "A big ol' dirty crush."

To her great surprise, this did not get the reaction she had been expecting. She'd expected embarrassment, a glimpse of the shy Rick Grimes who used to avert his eyes any time she caught him checking her out…but not today. Instead he seemed rather amused by what she had told him, though she was pleased to note a slight reddening of his cheeks.

"Does she now?" he enquired with interest. "Well, who could blame her?"

Carrie burst out laughing, unable to contain it. "Geez, cocky much?"

"She's obviously a very smart woman to have a crush on me."

"O-okay," she scolded, shaking her head in exasperation. "That's enough outta you." Attempting to silence him, she kissed him properly now, but he broke away quickly. He spared a glance for Judith, who had opened a new diaper and was wearing it on her head, and then looked back at her.

"I think you're jealous."

"No, I'm not!" she insisted hotly. _Okay, maybe a little_.

"Erin's got a crush on me," he stated, using his free hand to pull her closer. "That means you've got competition, right?"

Narrowing her eyes, Carrie realised what he was doing, that he was trying to play her. Knowing exactly how to play him in return, she tilted her head and then reached down for the front of his sweatpants. Ignoring the fact that Judith was nearby, she began stroking him through his clothes, pleased when his body responded quickly.

"Rick," she started seriously, looking him in the eye. "I _am_ the competition."

He finally cracked at this, his composed facade crumbling as he burst out laughing. Still rubbing his hand between her legs, he kissed her hard as he tried pulling her to sit astride his lap, groaning in disappointment when she refused. "Come on."

She shook her head, though she gave him one last stroke through his sweatpants before she pulled away completely. "I gotta go, sorry."

"But…" he tried to appeal, gesturing down to his crotch. "But you-"

"Say the Pledge of Allegiance," she suggested.

He sat back against the headboard and glared at her petulantly. "Tease."

"Yeah," she nodded in agreement, straightening her tank top which had somehow gone astray.

"Has Erin really got a crush on me?" he asked, now looking genuinely concerned by the thought.

Grinning, she nodded her head. "Oh yeah, big ol' crush. She thinks you're yummy."

This time he did look embarrassed, which was the reaction she'd been looking for all along. Clearing his throat and checking on Judith, he turned back to Carrie in concern. "She's not going to…ask me out, is she?"

"Of course she's going to ask you out," she lied, enjoying his reaction far too much. "I told her to."

"Carrie!"

"You're welcome," she said cheerfully, turning on her heel and rushing out the door.

"Carrie, wait. Carrie!"

Hearing the tone of his voice, that it wasn't playful, she turned back and returned to the threshold of his bedroom, tilting her head as she looked at him. "Yeah?"

He was sitting forward now, looking unsure of whether or not he ought to say what was on his mind. "You're going out like that?"

Feigning confusion, she looked down at herself. "Something wrong with the way I'm dressed?"

"You should wear a jacket," he suggested gently. "Protect your arms from Walkers."

She didn't mind him checking her, that he reminded her to protect herself, but he didn't do it to anyone but her. At first she had found it sweet that he cared so much, but now? With the realisation that he didn't check on anyone other group members the way he did to her, she was unsure if it was because he didn't trust her judgement, or if it was just innocent concern. So for that reason, she occasionally tested him like she was now, wondering if he would say anything about her lack of jacket or her jog at sunset, a time that roused the Walkers from their state of apathy. He never failed to comment or remind her to look after herself…

"I'll be fine," she smiled, fully expecting the way his jaw clenched at her complacency.

She fully expected the way his jaw clenched, the subtle way his body shifted uncomfortably. But, as she also fully expected, he seemed to accept her decision.

"Okay," he nodded. "Be safe."

"You too. Watch out for Erin, she's got lust in her eyes," she smiled, making sure to sway her hips as she turned and left.

Filling up her water bottle, she farewelled Carol before heading next door to meet up with Rosita. Tara and Michonne were still lazing on the front porch, though one of them had gone to the effort of fetching tall glasses of cold soda. Carrie's mouth watered as she looked at them, craving the sweet taste, but she resisted and instead hustled Rosita.

"You better be ready to bust ass." Rosita warned her, emerging from the house wearing her running gear and her empty gun holster.

"I am," she assured her, reaching her arms back and beginning to stretch.

"Are you?"

"Yes!"

Without another word Rosita took off at a sprint, leaving Carrie momentarily stupefied until she collected herself. Giving Tara and Michonne a quick wave, she sprinted away to catch up with Rosita, seeing that the usual ball busting had started already. With longer legs she caught up easily, waving to everyone still sitting on Betsy's front porch as they passed it by on their way to the armoury. Their sneakers pounded loudly on the asphalt they raced to the armoury where they hastily staggered to a stop, not daring to descend the awkward steps at such a pace.

"I win," Rosita declared, heading down first.

"How the hell do you figure that?" Carrie protested. "I beat you by a mile."

"I win, because I win," Rosita insisted. Seeing that the armoury was locked, she headed down the hallway and into the pantry in search of Olivia. "Olivia? We need the key to the armoury."

"Saying that _you win_ _because_ _you win_ makes you sound like Eugene."

Rosita gasped. "Take that back."

"No, I will not," she muttered, looking around and seeing that Olivia was no where to be found. "I'll check upstairs, she might have left the key on the hook."

Heading upstairs, Carrie looked around and called out to Olivia, wondering if she was up here working on the various tasks she always seemed occupied with. Upon finding the townhouse empty, she went to the kitchen cupboard where Olivia occasionally left her keys, but she returned back to Rosita empty handed.

"She might be at Denise's place," Rosita suggested.

Sensing her exasperation, Carrie was in agreement. "We have our knives," she began, looking at her arm holster and then checking the pocket knife in her back pocket. In their many weeks of exercising outside the walls they'd never drawn their guns.

Sharing her train of thought, Rosita nodded in agreement. "Let's get out of here."

Setting off, they headed for the watch tower from which they would depart, not wanting to make Holly climb down just to open and close the gate for them. They signed out on the clipboard with the assurance they'd be no more than an hour, and then ascended the stairs in darkness to reach the ground on the other side of the walls.

"Hey, you speak French, right?"

"I'm not fluent, but sure."

"You and I need to come to some kind of arrangement," Rosita began, the two of them holding onto the rail as they descended. "Abraham's been learning Spanish behind my back. Now he knows what I'm saying when I tell him to _metetelo por el culo_. I need to learn how to cuss at him in another language…I'm thinking French."

"I can teach you to swear in French, but German sounds a lot more bad ass."

"We can iron out the details later," Rosita shrugged. Reaching the door she checked out the peephole and then entered the combination. "What do you say? You teach me swear at Abraham, I'll teach you to swear at Rick? It'll be fun."

Grinning, Carrie nodded in agreement as they emerged into the warm sunshine once again. " _Oui. Je suis d'accord_."

"Huh?"

" _Êtes-vous prêt_?"

"Hey, don't start now!" Rosita protested.

" _Mange ma poussiére_ ," she grinned, starting off at a run and leaving her behind.

Rosita gasped in horror. "Do what to your pussy?"

" _Oh mon Dieu!_ Just run!"

Groaning dramatically, Rosita took off after her, launching into a tirade of what sounded like Spanish insults as she caught up to her. Laughing as they lowered their sunglasses and set off at a slow jog, they were unaware of the danger they were approaching.

* * *

Cursing Carrie's unique talent for getting him all worked up with very little effort, Rick was forced to stay up in his bedroom after she had left, unable to go back downstairs until he had willed away the inconvenient erection that minx had left him with. Letting Judith run around the bedroom and amuse herself, for she didn't often get to play up here, he stayed where he was on the bed as he mentally recited the Pledge of Allegiance, running through all the player names he could remember from the Atlanta Braves until he was marginally more comfortable. He cursed Carrie's ability to arouse that kind of reaction from him almost as much as he cursed her apparent self control - regardless of Judith's presence, he was willing to go for it right then and there. Using sex to pass the time had crossed his mind more than once that day, only making it easier for Carrie to use that to her advantage.

Watching as Judith tossed her toys into her crib, her version of tidying up, Rick sighed as he looked at the clock on his nightstand. He truly did hate having a day off, despite the fact he ought to be revelling in the fact that there was nothing for him to do. Just as he was mentally planning his schedule for tomorrow, figuring he owed Carl some time outside the walls, he heard a knock at the front door. He was immediately filled with dread, and he listened through the subsequent silence as Carol went to greet whoever it was.

 _God, please don't let that be Erin_.

He was far from used to a woman hitting on him, unless of course he just happened to be writing a speeding ticket. It had been difficult enough flirting with Carrie on the supply run, and she was a woman he was actually interested in. Having been married for so long, and having had a fairly limited dating history prior to that, he wasn't exactly accustomed to a woman expressing interest in him, and he wasn't quite sure how to handle it. What was the social protocol? Maybe Carrie was just screwing with him.

"Rick," Carol called out from downstairs.

He swore under his breath, feeling nervous. Was it Erin? Might she lose her nerve if he pretended he wasn't home?

"Rick!" Carol called out again, louder this time. "Shelly wants to see you."

Breathing a sigh of relief, though he questioned whether he was genuinely relieved to be receiving Shelly as a visitor, he got up and swung Judith onto his hip, bringing her downstairs with him. Putting on a polite smile, he took a moment to be grateful that it wasn't Erin, that he didn't have to fumble his way through the most polite rejection he could offer. Reaching the ground floor he set Judith down at the foot of the stairs and closed the security gate, glad when she simply headed off for her toys without protest - she was frustratingly clingy this week.

"Hi, Shelly," he greeted, trying not to sound as awkward as he felt. He'd never had much to do with this woman…that was by choice.

"Hi," she replied, peering past him as Judith walked past her, looking up curiously. For a moment it looked as though Shelly was going to start oohing and aahing at her, but to his relief she did not. Instead, she held up a pair of binoculars, that and her wide brimmed hat indicating she must have been on watch from one of their new posts. "There's something I want to show you."

Nodding, Rick followed her out onto the front porch, giving Carol an exasperated glance as he went. This wouldn't be the first time the Alexandrian's had asked one of them to take a look at something insignificant…Sturgess had even called Abraham up onto one of the watch posts to tell him a Walker had been impaled by one of their spikes. _I ought to beat your ass for making me put on pants_ , Abraham had told him.

Judith began to fuss when she saw him leaving, and given that he was unconcerned by whatever Shelly had to show him, he settled for going barefoot rather than extend his departure. Enjoying the sunshine and the feeling of the grass beneath his feet, he dreaded the unexpected task that had popped up for him that day. Given what Jessie had told him about how Ron came into possession of a simulation gun, he knew he was going to have to speak with Nicholas. He was going to have to confiscate it, although he figured a better approach would be to ask Nicholas to just hand it in…he didn't think him throwing his weight around (rightfully or not) would go down well, particularly when Glenn was trying to hard to create a solid and trusting bond among the run crew. Dwelling on what had happened, he wondered if Pete knew that Ron had been given the simulation gun…it wouldn't surprise him if he did.

"So, what is it, Shelly?" Rick asked, following her up the ladder and onto the northern platform behind the second house. Taking a quick look around, he took note that she had a book sitting beneath her chair. He didn't mind the watch crew taking a break, for the task was rather monotonous, and it seemed that so far she had been paying sufficient attention.

"Just let me find him again," she started, raising the binoculars and looking out across the houses behind them. "I've only been on watch for a short while. I found him about ten minutes ago, but I wasn't-"

"You found _him_?"

"Yeah. He was just looking around," she shrugged, her search stopping. "Ah, there he is. He-"

Cutting her off, Rick urgently snatched the binoculars from her. "Where?"

Sensing his urgency, Shelly tensed. "He's in the house on Johnson street. The one with the dark roof and the wrap around porch. He's just inside…he's not doing anything really."

Knowing which house she referred to, Rick brought it into his sights and looked at it critically, hoping that Shelly was mistaken, that she mistaken a Walker for someone living. His heart pounding, he looked at the house through the binoculars, glad to find it appeared empty, that there were no signs of movement. While he checked all the windows, he mentally took stock of his people, remembering that Glenn and Noah had gone to help the construction crew at the mall for the day. Just as his heart rate was beginning to slow, reassured that Shelly must have been mistaken, Rick saw movement from one of the downstairs windows.

It was not a Walker, that much he was certain of. Looking into the living room of this house, one that would soon be included in their current expansion, Rick watched the figure he had found, their movements too quick and purposeful to be a Walker. Watching them, he took note of the filthy pants and shirt they were wearing, but was unable to see anything else of them, his angle too high. At the risk of losing him, Rick looked around the other houses and street for signs of other people, glad to see that everything else seemed relatively still. Turning back to the house, his blood ran cold when he took a proper look at the person.

They were coming outside now, slowly emerging into the sunlight and squinting at the brightness. Their reddish hair was long and bedraggled, matching the oversized shirt they were wearing, but it wasn't their clothing that alarmed Rick…it was the W on their forehead.

* * *

A/N - One more chapter coming this weekend, just to help speed things up towards a few action chapters.


	17. Chapter 17

A/N I hope this beings to satisfy your craving for action and bloodshed!

* * *

It was not a Walker, that much he was certain of. Looking into the living room of this house, one that would soon be included in their current expansion, Rick watched the figure he had found, their movements too quick and purposeful to be a Walker. Watching them, he took note of the filthy pants and shirt they were wearing, but was unable to see anything else of them, his angle too high. At the risk of losing him, Rick looked around the other houses and street for signs of other people, glad to see that everything else seemed relatively still. Turning back to the house, his blood ran cold when he took a proper look at the person.

They were coming outside now, slowly emerging into the sunlight and squinting at the brightness. Their reddish hair was long and bedraggled, matching the oversized shirt they were wearing, but it wasn't their clothing that alarmed Rick…it was the W on their forehead.

"Shelly," Rick began, trying not to panic her. "Take these, and watch him. Do you understand?"

"Is everything okay?"

He looked at her in disbelief, unable to comprehend her sheer ignorance to what this meant. "No, it's not" he said bluntly, thrusting the binoculars at her and then picking up the radio from her deck chair. "Do not take your eyes off him, is that clear? Call me if he starts running," he instructed, giving her the radio next.

"But, he's not hurting anyone," she said naively. "We should help him."

Ignoring her, Rick went straight into action, practically leaping down from the northern watch platform. His mind raced as he mentally processed everything he had to do, accounting for who and what he would need to get this done. This person had to be taken care of, and quickly too…if they ran for it and made it back to their group, Alexandria was screwed. Picturing what would happen, he raced down between the houses and burst out onto the street, finding Michonne and Tara sitting on the front porch of the second house.

"Michonne, come with me," he instructed, wasting no time to slow down or explain. "Tara, get the others and meet us at the armoury, now!"

Without question, the two of them abandoned their lazy afternoon and leapt up, bursting straight into action. Leaping over the coffee table, Michonne quickly caught up with him as he sprinted up the road. "What's going on?" she asked as they ran.

Ignoring the curious glances they got from some of the women sitting on the porch at Betsy's house, Rick explained as best he could. "There's someone outside the walls, someone with a W on their face." Reaching the terraced houses, he staggered to a stop and glanced down the road, relieved to see that the Pantry garage was open.

"Someone with a W?" Michonne questioned as they turned down the street, passing the school in a rush. "A person?"

"Olivia!" he yelled, entering the pantry garage but seeing no sign of her. "Yes," he confirmed, racing down the hallway and seeing that the armoury was locked. "A person with a W on their face. Olivia! I need the keys!"

"Oh, shit…" Michonne muttered, immediately understanding his panic. As he called out for Olivia again, she glanced up the stairs. "I'll look for the key, it's normally on a hook in the kitchen."

Horribly aware of how little time there was, and picturing how close the man was to seeing their protective walls, Rick knew there wasn't time to wait for a key to be found. He rattled the sliding doors of the armoury, noting that Olivia had locked the handles and the top latch too. Before Michonne could even reach the stairs he threw himself against the door as hard as he could, driving his shoulder straight against the lock. The wood splintered with the first impact, the hollow doors more flimsy than he first expected. Repeating the action, he threw himself against them for a second and third time, and this time the lock gave way. His force completely unhinged one of the doors from it's top roller, and it fell awkwardly, blocking his entrance. It took both he and Michonne to force it out of the way, and by the time he managed to get inside the armoury, he could hear Carl's panicked voice coming down the hallway. Having heard the commotion from the classroom next door, he came straight away to help.

"Dad? What's going on?" he asked, his eyes widening when he saw the damage. "Dad?"

"Hang on," he said urgently, helping Michonne clamour across the fallen door. While she set about grabbing rifles and magazines, he went for the radios instead. Slipping a battery into one, he turned it on and selected the correct channel. "Shelly? Can you still see him?"

"Yes," she replied a moment later.

"What's he doing?" he asked impatiently, nodding when Michonne showed him what she had so far. He glanced out into the hallway, seeing Sasha and Tara arrive completely breathless, Sasha still wearing the eye mask she used to sleep during the day. "Shelly!"

"He's just walking around."

"Where? What way?"

"Kind of left, I suppose."

Rick took a deep breath, frustrated by the difficulty in communicating with her. "Is he moving east or west?"

"West."

With that in mind, Rick grabbed a few more radios and then quickly explained the situation. "Carl, take a rifle and take over the east watch post. Keep low, we don't know if there is anyone else around."

"Got it," he said, taking the rifle Michonne passed him. Holly's voice came over the radio, enquiring as to what the problem was.

"If you see him, and he makes a run for it," Rick began, pressing the radio into his hands. "Shoot him, alright?"

"Shoot him?" Carl clarified, raising his eyebrows.

"Yes. I don't care where, just shoot him," he instructed, satisfied when Carl nodded. "Same goes for everyone else. Sasha, you take the west post. Michonne, you go north where Shelly is."

"And me?" Tara asked urgently.

"Holly's in the watch tower, right?"

"Yes."

"How good is she with a rifle?"

"Uhh, against Walkers? Great. Against a moving target, I don't know."

"What about you?"

There was a short pause as they looked at each other, both of them knowing he wasn't referring to her skill, but to her willingness to shoot a moving target.

"I can try."

That was good enough for him, and so he thrust a rifle and radio her way. "Join Holly in the watch tower. Keep an eye out, there could be more of these people around."

Arming himself with the same items, Rick left his Colt behind for now, not having any place to carry it. Climbing back over the broken door, he followed Tara back outside, frustrated to see that a crowd of onlookers had grown, including the women from the coffee group at Betsy's house. As he hastily told everyone to get inside and stay quiet, Michonne came rushing back to him.

"Carrie and Rosita are outside," she told him, not wasting words. "If Olivia is AWOL, they might not have radios or guns."

Rick's heart sank, for in his panic he had forgotten about them completely. They must have left only ten minutes ago. "Shit," he groaned, his stomach clenching as he saw more people coming out of their houses. He allowed himself a very brief moment of fear before getting himself together. "Go. Get to the north post, now! They normally circle us when they jog, so look for them."

Trying to manage the growing crowd, Rick hovered on the street with his rifle in one hand and the radio in the other, listening impatiently for the confirmations that his people had reached their posts. Carl was the first to check in, followed by Sasha, Tara and then Michonne, each of them confirming they were in position.

"Everyone needs to look out for Carrie and Rosita, they're outside and they might not be armed. Michonne, where is he now?"

"I don't know, Shelly lost him. I'm trying to find him right now."

He swore under his breath, looking up the street as Deanna, Reg and Maggie raced over. He didn't have the time to deal with Deanna right now, and so it was Maggie he looked to first. "Mags, get everyone inside their houses, and keep them all quiet. Someone is outside the walls with a W on their head."

Understanding the implications without question, Maggie nodded and then took off, immediately rounding up Ron, Mikey and Enid and sending them inside the school. Setting off, he quickly explained to Deanna and Reg as best he could, his mind scattered as he tried to think, planning and accounting for every possible scenario. The construction crew were out on site including Noah and Glenn, Daryl and Aaron had left yesterday, and Carrie and Rosita were outside the walls unarmed. If something went wrong, if they were taken unaware by this man…

So many questions raced through Rick's head, and none of them were answered by the time he got to the intersection by Jessie's house, that being the best vantage point for him to manage the situation. If this man was armed and he managed to catch Carrie and Rosita unaware, they could be in a lot of trouble. Even if he didn't hurt them straight off the bat, he could force them to go with him. There could be others out there too…if any stranger caught sight of their walls and then got away, that would leave Alexandria in a terrible position.

"Has anyone got a visual?" he asked over the radio, turning on the spot and looking around. Shelly had been the last with visual confirmation, and he had been heading west. "Sasha? Can you see him from west?"

"Nothing yet."

"Carl?" he asked, having sent him to the east side. He'd chosen that position specifically for him, hoping to keep him as uninvolved as possible. If this guy turned up on the east side, Rick would send someone else there if he could…he didn't want Carl involved in this.

"Only Walkers on this side."

Swearing under his breath, Rick shared a brief look with both Deanna and Reg, knowing that their understanding of how the seriousness of their situation was only superficial. Already he could tell that they thought he was overreacting, but he couldn't afford to let their mistrust cloud his concentration. Looking away from them, he took a deep breath and looked at this radio instead, praying for it to deliver the news he wanted to hear, wishing he could do more than wait. A few moments passed in absolute silence, his nerves on tenterhooks as he waited for the confirmation that never came. As the worry in the pit of his stomach grew, he glanced up towards Alexandria's gate, picturing Carrie and Rosita jogging outside the walls, blissfully unaware. If they couldn't find this man soon, he was going to have to go out there and bring them back in.

* * *

Feeling the breeze whipping her hair, Carrie focused on keeping pace with Rosita, glad she was running with someone who pushed her to go a little faster. Despite Rosita's initial protests, the two of them were having a great time outside the walls, burning off their excess energy. Things were going smoothly so far, having needed to take out only one Walker, and there was no indication that there were many more around. The pits and spikes took care of many Walkers before they got too close to Alexandria, meaning that the immediate surroundings were much safer these days. They were now on the north side of Alexandria, jogging through the streets that would make up the next phase of the expansion once the east side encompassing the church had been completed. Like every other time she'd been outside the walls for a jog, Carrie felt completely at ease.

"Sit ups," Rosita declared, seeing a grassed area with good sight lines.

Slowing down their jog, they found a patch of grass that wasn't too overgrown. While Rosita lay down and pulled her knees up, Carrie stood on watch, making sure she kept moving around so her heart rate didn't slow.

"I want…abs of…steel….this summer….five…six…"

"You have abs of steel," Carrie reminded her.

"No," sh moaned. "They're hiding…behind pasta…and cake."

"Well, you live with a pregnant lady."

"Yeah."

"Isn't Abraham giving you enough of a work out?" she teased.

Rosita laughed. "Sure, I guess…what am I up to?" she asked, stopping her sit ups.

"I wasn't counting, sorry."

Rosita shrugged, getting up. "Good enough. Come on, twenty sit ups."

"I hate you," Carrie moaned, doing as she was told. "I hate sit ups."

"Do push ups."

"I hate them too…three…four…"

"You still putting on weight?"

"Yes."

"Are your tits still getting bigger?" Rosita asked without embarrassment.

"Yes!" she exclaimed in delight, loving the girl talk. "They're back…to their….old size…nine…ten. I finally asked Olivia for new bras."

"Don't stop now, you're doing twenty," Rosita told her. "What about your period? Still AWOL?"

"Yeah…eleven."

"You should talk to Pete, see if he'll put you on birth control."

"I have….he said….wait longer…fifteen. Okay, I'm done."

"Twenty!"

"No, I'm done," she insisted, getting up. Starting before she lost her will, she took off at another jog, Rosita quickly falling into step. "Hey, are you still doing your training with Pete? You know, like him teaching you stuff?"

"Yeah, why?"

"I was hoping he'd teach me too. I brought it up a while back, but he just kind of brushed me off."

"Pete's like that. He's like one of those kids that won't share his toys."

"I agree. You know Denise? She's a psychiatrist, but she's done three years as a surgical resident."

"I know. Pete won't let her work in the infirmary though," Rosita panted "Says she's incompetent. Still, he ought to be teaching her first, rather than people like us. Better than her reading War and Peace for the tenth time."

"True," Carrie agreed, unsure of why Deanna allowed this to go on. "Oh, hey, see this house?"

"Yeah," Rosita said, glancing at the house Carrie indicated as they jogged by. "What about it?"

"That's the one Barbara wants to move into."

"The art deco bathroom?"

"She told you too?"

"Yes…she told me all about it."

"Same. The next time she brings it up, I'm going to take Rick there…" she trailed off, catching her breath for a moment. "…and then screw his brains out, right there on the tiled floor she loves so much."

Rosita burst out laughing, her steady jog faltering for a moment. "I knew I liked you."

"She's asking for it! I'm sicking of hearing about it…I just love art deco," she said, mimicking Barbara. "I can't wait to hang my towels in there…all I can think is shut up!"

"If you do screw Rick in there, make sure its filthy, dirty sex."

"I will."

"Make it filthy enough that even Abraham would blush. You going to tell Barbara after?"

"No," she shook her head, not wanting that type of rumour to get back to Carl. "Better to watch her move in and kiss the floor where Rick's bare ass was sitting."

"She'd be lucky, it's a cute ass. What?" Rosita guffawed, seeing the wide eyed look Carrie gave her.

Carrie grinned. "You're right, it is a cute ass."

"Nice and tight, yeah?"

"Yeah. It's got dimples too."

Closing her eyes for a moment, Rosita moaned. "Oh…ass dimples. Abraham has that V shape below his abs. God that drives me crazy."

About to respond, Carrie suddenly stopped, her head turning to her left. Her heart racing from the exertion, she raised her sunglasses as she looked between the houses they were passing. She thought she had seen a flash of movement from that direction, but not the type that came from Walkers…no, this movement had been swift, purposeful.

"You see something?" Rosita asked, stopping ahead of her. Concerned, she wandered back and followed Carrie's gaze.

"I don't know," she panted, still looking. "Probably nothing…I think it's just these sunglasses. I'm always seeing funny flashes from the corner of my eye"

"I told you to ask Olivia for a different pair," Rosita reminded her, coaxing her to start jogging again. "Oh, by the way. When you're out with the run crew next, can you keep your eyes peeled for Sons of Anarchy, season three? Abraham finished the second season last night, and he just about blew a gasket when he realised we didn't have the third."

"No problem."

"Now let's try your Spanish again," Rosita said encouragingly. "And this time, I want to hear that attitude in your voice, okay? This son of a bitch has wronged you, use your words to wound him. _Hijo de puta_."

" _Hijo de puta_ ," she recited diligently, enjoying the way the words felt in her mouth. Thinking no more of what she thought she had seen, Carrie and Rosita continued on, blissfully unaware.

* * *

Standing at the intersection by Jessie's house, Rick could directly see three out of four of their watch posts, the east, west and south. Strategically choosing this spot, he stayed there and went about efficiently managing his people, keeping track of what was going on in all areas of Alexandria. While he'd prefer to be up on the north watch post, he knew his best place was managing the situation from the street, trusting his people to let him guide them. All except a few key people had been sent back inside, making Alexandria unusually silent. Normally there was something to be heard…the sound of children playing, the dog barking as he fetched a ball or splashed in the lake. Right now there was nothing except the pressing silence, which only served to worsen the panic in Rick's head.

He felt completely helpless, knowing that Carrie and Rosita were outside the walls without a radio and without guns. Olivia had come up to him a few minutes ago, having heard about the situation, and she confirmed that they must not have taken any weapons. When she admitted that she hadn't been around to open the armoury for them, Rick wanted to unleash an almighty hell on her, but in the back of his mind he knew it wasn't her fault. For whatever stupid reasons they had, Carrie and Rosita intentionally chose not to wait for Olivia to open the armoury, and now at any moment the could run straight into this W man. When this was all over, he was going to have a few choice words for them.

"Anything?" he asked over the radios.

"Nothing," Sasha replied, Shelly, Carl and Tara echoing her response next.

"Nothing on the cameras either," Carol added, having taken up post in their garage with the surveillance system.

They'd lost track of the W man four minutes ago…four of the longest minutes of Rick's life. All he could picture was this man running back to his group, for there was absolutely no way he was working alone. If they let him get away, if he came back with more…the Alexandrian's were not prepared for that.

"Is everyone clear on what happens? If you see him running, shoot him."

As each of the four posts replied with their agreement, Rick glanced over at Deanna. She and Reg stood side by side a few yards away, watching and listening to the circumstances unfolding before their eyes. He saw them exchange a glance as Rick gave these instructions, and he suspected he knew what was going through their heads. He wanted to confront them, to ask them if they had a problem with the way he was handling the situation, but he held his tongue. Now was not the time to get defensive, now was the time to get this under control.

While he waited for the W man to reappear in someone's sights, Rick looked around at the key people he had allowed to stay out there on the street with him. With the construction crew taking most of those competent with a weapon away from the community, Rick was left with few to choose from, and he wouldn't deny he wasn't overly pleased. Standing armed and waiting was Aidan, Nicholas, Spencer and Carter, not exactly Rick's first choice of team given what he would need them for. If they managed to shoot this W man, they were going to have to go out there and get him…furthermore, they were going to have to go out and get Carrie and Rosita too if they didn't return on their own.

Glancing towards the infirmary, he noticed Pete emerging, he and Ron wheeling out one of the stretchers the run crew had scavenged from a paramedic vehicle. As soon as they had brought it down from the steps and got it to the road, Pete sent Ron back towards the townhouses, telling him to get back inside with everyone else. Watching as Pete came over to them in anticipation of an injury, Rick glanced back at Deanna and Reg.

"I think I just saw Carrie and Rostra on the cameras," Carol said over the radio, sounding uncertain. "North camera…two figures heading east. They were pretty far away though."

"Carl," Rick started. "They're coming towards you. Signal them if you can, but no loud noises. We can't give ourselves away, alright?"

"Okay." There was a long pause. "I'm not seeing anything," he remarked.

"Just keep watching. Tara? They'll be coming to you next."

"We're waiting."

Lowering the radio, Rick swore under his breath, wishing there was something he could do. He couldn't risk going outside right now…if this man was still around, he could be anywhere. There was nothing he could do until they had his location again.

"Rick?" Pete started, securing the brakes on the stretcher. "Any idea where he's been shot?"

He frowned for a moment, realising he had been given misinformation. "He hasn't been shot yet."

"Yet?"

"Not yet…he will be though."

"How do you know?" Pete questioned, sounding affronted.

"Because I gave the order," he said bluntly, glancing back at the other four who stood waiting. Both Carter and Spencer had broken into a nervous sweat, looking particularly uncomfortable about the impending task.

"You're going to have him shot?"

Keeping his temper in check, Rick looked back at him. "Yes, I am. If you have a problem with that, file a complaint later. Until then, get ready for a patient with a gunshot wound."

Raising an eyebrow, Pete backed off, but Rick caught the look he gave Deanna, and the placating nod she gave in return. Focusing his attention back to the others, he tried to decide which of them he wanted out there with him to retrieve the W man. While he'd prefer to leave Nicholas behind in general, at least he and Aidan seemed prepared and level headed…on the other hand Carter and Spencer did not.

"Carter? You up for this?"

Seeming surprised to be called upon, Carter look up with wide eyes. He nodded stoically, but he looked no more comfortable than before. Glancing back at Deanna and Reg, Rick made his choice strategically, knowing there was more to consider than this moment.

"Spencer," he said lowly. "Go to the east tower with Carl, be his spotter."

"Spot for him?"

"Yes," he confirmed, suspecting Spencer might not hold up under the pressure of needing to take an accurate shot should the situation called for it. "Let him handle the rifle, I'll need you to keep me updated."

Watching as Spencer headed off to the east post, Rick cleared his throat and looked at his radio, impatiently waiting for someone to give him the news he needed to hear. Feeling completely helpless, all he could do was wait for something to change, and even though his feet were itching, his brain telling him to do something urgently, he waited.

"I think we see him," Shelly started, finally giving Rick the news he wanted to hear. "Michonne says there's movement about ten o'clock."

Turning on the spot, Rick looked out in that direction, trying to remember what they had there. With any luck this guy would walk straight into one of their Walker pits, though his immediate death would negate opportunity to question him.

"Sasha? Carol? Do you see him?"

"Not yet."

"Sounds like he's in our north west blind spot," Carol added, the sound of Judith babbling in the background coming over the radio too. "I can't see any movement."

Just as Rick was about to ask, Carl spoke up next.

"I think I just saw Carrie and Rosita. Just a glimpse. They're heading south, but they're pretty far out."

"Tara, Holly, that's you."

"We're looking," they assured him.

There was another long silence, Rick stalling his need to do something by pacing nervously. If Carrie and Rosita didn't return to the gates when they came south this time, he was going to have to go out there and get them himself. Knowing it was inevitable, Rick started heading down towards the gate, gesturing for Carter to come with him.

"I've got him in sight," Sasha told them. "He's about ten o'clock, moving around to nine as we speak."

"What's his demeanour?"

"Calm…curious."

Rick swore under his breath as this last part. "Curious about what?"

"I think he might know we're here…he might have seen one of our traps."

"Can you get a clear shot?"

"No, he's too far out, there's a lot of foliage on my way. I won't get it first go. If I miss, he'll run."

"Rick?" Tara began, her voice urgent. "Carrie and Rosita just went past the watch tower, but they were too far out. They saw us waving, and they just waved back."

"They're approaching the gates?"

"At a distance, yeah. I don't think they intend to come back yet."

Sasha spoke up next. "He's still on the move. He's at nine o'clock now."

"I see him," Carol added.

Thinking strategically, he came to the only logical conclusion. "I'm going out to get them," he said over the radios. "Please, no one shoot me."

His decision made, Rick hastened for the gate with Carter in tow, but Deanna followed him down with protest. "Rick, you cannot go out there," she said, her tone sounding perfectly reasonable and concerned. "You're not dressed properly. You're not even wearing shoes."

Ignoring her, Rick checked his rifle as he and Carter reached the gates, gratefully taking the knife Aidan handed to him. If he came afoul of Walkers, he wouldn't be able to fire without alerting the man that there was indeed someone living around here, and that they were hostile. He'd mistake it for the inevitable attack against him, and he would flee.

"Open it quietly," Rick instructed Carter, not missing the look of relief on his face when he realised he didn't have to go too. "Just enough so I can get out. Close it, then wait here for me to get back. Got it?"

"Got it," he agreed, doing as required.

As the heavy gate opened very slowly, Rick braced himself before slipping through the gap, still ignoring all protests Deanna made in concern for his safety. He couldn't care less about his safety right now, not when two of his people were out there unarmed, potentially about to run straight into the path of this man.

Unlike every other time, he did not breathe a sigh of relief upon exiting the walls. Making a run for it, he prayed he managed to intercept his group members before the other man did.

* * *

Sweat was dripping down Carrie's back, and she was seriously starting to regret asking Rosita to go jogging with her. Rosita was pushing Carrie harder and harder, both to her enjoyment and frustration. Conscious of her leg, which although recovered still ached a little, Rosita pushed her in ways other than her jogging speed and endurance.

"I'm telling you, I can't do chin ups," she panted, watching as Rosita expertly demonstrated using the top frame of a rusted swing set. Watching in wonderment, she was surprised Rosita even managed to jump high enough to reach the top of the swing set, let alone pull herself up.

"You haven't even tried," Rosita nagged, jumping down with a flourish. She rolled her shoulders and cracked her neck, grinning when the sound made Carrie cringe. "Go on, just try it."

"We're never going jogging again," she muttered, reluctantly letting Rosita take watch while she reached for the top bar.

"I told you I didn't want to go, but you wouldn't listen."

Completely embarrassing herself, Carrie tried to copy what Rosita did. Despite her determination, she managed to pull herself halfway up before her arms made it clear they would not cooperate any further. Grunting in frustration, she swung her legs for momentum and then managed to loop one forearm around the top bar, laughing at herself as she managed to cling to it clumsily.

"How's this?" she asked, panting for breath as sweat dripped down her face.

"Pathetic," Rosita said dryly, shaking her head when Carrie let go and collapsed to the ground. "God…are you alright?"

Carrie groaned, her arms trembling as she lay on the ground for a few moments. "No…I'm dead. Leave me alone."

"Come on," she nagged. Darting forward, she grabbed the back of Carrie's bra strap and pulled on it, and Carrie braced herself for the impact.

"Ouch!" she protested, reluctantly getting up and rubbing her back. "That's mean."

"More kick boxing, more weights," Rosita remarked, the two of them setting back off at a jog.

"No, I'll stick to yoga," she pretended to protest.

"We've been working out a whole month, and you've still got no upper body strength. Look at those twigs you call arms!"

"Hey! I have upper body strength…"

"Yeah, the upper body strength of a kitten."

As they passed the wide open field where the expansion around the church was almost complete, Rosita gestured up to the watch tower. Following her gaze, Carrie smiled to see Holly up there waving to them wildly. She was pretty far away, but her short blonde hair was unmistakable.

"Holly's nice," Carrie remarked, the two of them waving back to her before disappearing from sight. "When we did the constru-"

"Don't change the subject. You're going to start lifting more weights," Rosita insisted.

"Fine. Next time we do yoga, we're actually doing yoga."

"Don't you like sitting on the porch getting drunk?"

"I told you, it doesn't count."

"We were wearing yoga pants…does it count if I did naked yoga with Abraham later that night?"

"Yeah, sure. That counts," she said generously. "Naked yoga is strenuous."

"You're telling me. I think a pulled a muscle. One more lap," Rosita insisted, the two of them sprinting past the road that would lead to the gates and heading down Broad street instead.

"Then that's it?"

"Yeah, alright. You caught me in a good mood."

"Thank God…I'm never jogging with you again," Carrie moaned, though she threw in a laugh at the end. "I might ask Rick if I can use his en suite tonight…I'm going to need to soak these muscles."

Rosita giggled, the two of them slowing their pace in preparation of the conclusion in a short while. "I took a bath with Abraham a few weeks ago…it was awful."

"Why?"

"He complained about everything! The bubbles, the candles, the music. _It's too hot!_ "

"You'd think with a naked woman in his lap he'd shut up."

"See, I knew you'd understand. Ugh, it was just awful. He's so tall he spent half the time with his legs hanging out the end, and there was hardly any room for me. We tried having sex, but we just ended up with water everywhere and more frustrated than when we began."

Chuckling at the unwanted visualisation, Carrie thought back to a particularly enjoyable wish of her own, having spent many nights wondering how good it might be for she and Rick to sink into a bath together. If the shower they shared was anything to go by, they'd enjoy the relaxation of a bath together. Knowing Rick he would definitely not complain about the bubbles or temperature, not while she was naked anyway. Picturing his en suite, she knew his bath tub would be more than large enough to comfortably accommodate the two of them.

"Okay, try your French again. _Fils de pute_. Rosita? Come on, tr-"

She gasped in confusion as Rosita suddenly grabbed her by the back of her tank top, yanking on it and violently bringing them both to a stop. Acting on instinct she submitted to Rosita's will, letting the smaller woman drag her down onto the road, the two of them landing in a heap. Hitting the asphalt hard, she felt her forearms stinging painfully as she scraped them, her sunglasses clattering to the ground. Fearing something was wrong, she stayed quiet as she felt Rosita laying down beside her.

"What is it?" she whispered, trying not to panic. Her eyes darted around at what she could see, wondering if there were Walkers about.

"I don't know," Rosita whispered back, tentatively lifting her head and looking behind them.

Following her gaze, Carrie stayed still and moved only her head, looking back down the road the way they had come. Seeing a figure rushing towards them, she held her breath and waited.

* * *

Rick made it only two blocks down the road when he saw them. Moving too quickly to notice him, Carrie and Rosita sprinted past him at the intersection further down, and they were gone as quickly as they had appeared. Following them, Rick set off at a sprint of his own, his bare feet pounding down the warm asphalt in pursuit of them. With his rifle in one hand and his radio in the other, he listened as the others kept him up to date on the W Man. Though he moved slowly, he was still heading south towards them, and Sasha ascertained that he had definitely noticed their Walker spikes. Despite this, it seemed he wasn't running from them…a good thing too considering Sasha still could not get a clear shot of him.

Turning right down Broad street, Rick was relieved to see Carrie and Rosita ahead of him, and though they appeared to be slowing down, they were still oblivious to the danger they might cross paths with at any second. Never slowing, he ran after them and began closing in, but he didn't dare call out. Sooner than he expected, Rosita happened to glance over her shoulder, her steady pace faltering the moment she saw him. For a moment she didn't seem to recognise him, his arrival so unexpected he didn't blame her, and so he acted quickly. He raised his hand with the radio and then hastily lowered it, non-verbally telling her to get down.

Acting immediately and silently, she practically lunged for Carrie beside her, grabbing her and roughly hauling her to a stop. Though Carrie protested in confusion, she seemed to follow Rosita's lead, allowing her to roughly drag her down to the asphalt where they proceeded to lay. His heart whooping with relief, Rick hastily caught up to them a little more, noticing when they lifted their heads and looked back at him.

"Rick," Sasha said over the radio. "He's heading further south. Eight o'clock now."

Feeling a flicker of panic, Rick considered their current position, knowing they had to be fairly close to this man, that he must be approaching them. Stopping a few yards away from where Carrie and Rosita, he crouched down onto one knee and raised his rifle, looking down the scope in the direction the man would be coming form. Seeing nothing but empty streets, his ears pricked up at the sound of movement beside him. With a loud clatter, two Walkers were approaching them, one walking straight into a mail boxes and falling over. Acting swiftly, he got back to his feet and gestured for Carrie and Rosita to do the same, knowing they were still watching him. Following his directions without question, they rose to their feet and raced over to him.

"I've got them," he said over the radio. "We're heading back now."

"What's going on?" Carrie asked, her face alight with sweat and exertion.

He glanced down at her forearms, seeing that they were scraped and bleeding. "We need to get back inside," he said shortly, explaining as they set off. "Someone's out here, someone with a W on their forehead. Go!"

Letting them race on ahead of him, Rick looked back in the direction from which the man would be coming. Though Sasha had him in her sights, she couldn't yet take a clear shot…if she missed, they were screwed. He briefly entertained the idea of staying out there to hunt the man down himself, to intercept him on foot, but this idea was only fleeting. He wasn't dressed for that, and he'd only endanger himself and anyone else who came out to help him.

"Rick, come on!" Carrie hissed as quietly as she could, she and Rosita stopping in their tracks.

Knowing they wouldn't allow him to stay outside without an argument, he followed them back onto the main road that would lead to the gates.

"I've lost him," Carol informed them. "He's out of range of the west camera."

"I've nearly lost him too," Sasha added. "He's still heading south. He's looking at the Walker spikes, so he must know we're here."

"He does," Rick agreed breathlessly, the three of them almost back at the gates. "Carter, get the gate. Tara? Can you see him yet?"

"Not yet."

"Everyone else," Rick continued, following Rosita and Carrie through the small opening in the gate and safely inside the walls. "Keep watching your areas, there might be more out there."

"Rick, what the hell is going on?" Carrie panted, bent over double. "Did you say someone with a W?"

He ignored her question. "Where the fuck is your gun?" he demanded, trying not to shout. He looked at Rosita next, furious with the both of them. "Where are your guns?"

"Olivia wasn't around," Rosita explained apologetically. "We weren't going to be out for long."

Barely containing himself, Rick clenched his jaw. "Go to the armoury, now," he told Rosita. "Get yourself a rifle and some hand cuffs, I'm going to need you."

Carrie stood up, finally catching her breath. "What abou-"

"Go see Pete," he growled angrily, turning away from her.

"Rick, I can help."

He swore under his breath, looking back at her bleeding forearms. "I swear to God, Carrie…go see Pete, now."

Ignoring the affronted look on her face, he looked around at everyone, making brief eye contact with Reg and Deanna. Glancing back at the walls, he looked in the direction that they knew the man was coming from, trying to think.

"I've lost him," Sasha said in disappointment. "Sorry Rick. I'll keep looking."

"We've got nothing here either," Tara reported.

Rick felt torn, part of him wanting to race home and get dressed so that he was properly prepared to go outside the walls, and another part of himself telling him to be patient, to wait. He didn't know what to do, what instinct to follow, and so he chose the path of least resistance, and he stayed where he was and waited. Questioning himself, he raised the radio. "North and east posts? Anything?"

"No," Shelly replied, her answer echoed by Spencer a few moments later.

Knowing that everyone was looking to him, Rick glanced around at the people, noting that Rosita was returning fully armed and that she had Annie in tow. He didn't really know Annie, for so far she had spent most of her time with Heath and Scott on an extended supply run. With the assurance that they were at least competent in protecting themselves, Rick hadn't made the effort in getting to know them that well, having not seen the need.

"I just heard what's happening," Annie said breathlessly, passing Carrie her Ruger and shoulder holster. "How can I help?"

Considering her offer, Rick glanced towards the east post where Carl and Spencer where. Situated on the other side of the townhouses, he couldn't see them, and so had little insight into what was going on. Though he trusted Carl's skill and maturity, he would have preferred him not be involved with this at all.

"You good with a rifle?" he asked, taking the handcuffs from Rosita.

Annie shook her head, securing her gun holster into her belt. "Not rifles. I have a torn rotator cuff, and the reco-"

"Wait here," he said shortly, gesturing to Aidan, Nicholas and Carter, who were waiting apprehensively for their next orders.

He looked to Rosita now, ready to ask her to take over from Carl, but before he could start he finally heard the news he had been waiting for.

"We've got him," Holly said, the news sending a sigh of relief through Rick. "He's moving quickly now, but he's not fleeing."

"Where's he going?"

"He's circling us, he's following the path of the spikes. He definitely knows we're here."

"Can you get a clear shot?" he asked impatiently.

"No. He's being really evasive, darting in and out of the trees."

"He knows he's being watched. What's his position?"

"About five o'clock."

"Carl? Spencer? Can you see him?"

"We're looking," Spencer replied.

A very long moment passed in silence before Holly spoke up again. "He's stopped…he's still about five o'clock," she reported. "He's hiding behind a tree."

"Let me know when you've got a clear shot."

"Holly," Spencer began. "How far out is he? Is he close to us?"

"Near one of the Walker pits…maybe a hundred yards?"

Hearing this, Rick looked around at the people waiting with him, trying to decide who he could depend on, who he could ask for help. If they couldn't get a clear shot of him soon, they would have to go out there and hunt this guy down for themselves, regardless of how poorly dressed he was. But he couldn't go alone, he wasn't that stupid. He knew he'd have to ask at least Rosita and Aidan, and although he doesn't want to endanger Carrie, he knew he can depend on her. Annie seemed able and willing, but how would she feel about them gunning down someone? Would she falter at the wrong moment? The same questions were raised about Carter…Nicholas he didn't even consider. Thinking of Daryl out recruiting, and Abraham and Glenn who were out on construction, he felt rather alone in facing this. Michonne was stuck on a watch post, and that left only Carol. He knew that if he asked her to she would blow her cover for him, that she would back him up, but were they ready to give up her true nature? Did they still need Mrs Peletier?

Spencer's voice came across the radio, sounding a little uneasy. "Rick, we've found him. Carl says he has a clear shot."

Hearing this, he stopped in his tracks, his heart sinking in his chest. This was not what he wanted…he sent Carl to the east watch point to keep him out of this, so that he wouldn't be put in the very position Rick was about to put him in. Even though he knew he had to do this, that this was the best course of action for Alexandria, he hated himself for what he said next.

"Shoot him," he said very clearly.

Outraged, Deanna started towards him. "Rick, you cannot ask Carl to do that. He's a child!"

Impatient with her, he simply turned away from her. He waited with bated breath, everyone around him stock still in anticipation of what was coming next.

"He wants to know where," Spencer said.

"Anywhere," he replied imperatively. "Carl, if you have a clear shot, then shoot him. We can't let him go."

Almost immediately a loud shot rang out, and though it was expected, everyone lurched in surprise, Rick included. Picturing his son firing that shot filled him with shame, the self-doubt beginning already.

"He's running," Holly said urgently.

"Did we get him? Carl?"

"Got his shoulder," Spencer replied. "Just skimmed the top."

"Shoot him again," Rick said loudly, already heading towards the gate. There was a long pause in which there was only silence. "For fuck's sake, someone shoot him again!"

Two more shots were fired in quick succession, the closer sound indicating that they came from Tara in the south watch tower. There was a short pause before Carl fired again from the east, and finally Rick got the news he'd been waiting for.

"We got him," Spencer reported. "He's alive, but down."

With that taken care of, Rick wasted no more time. "Rosita, Aidan and Carter, we're going to go out and get him. We'll put pressure on the wounds, and get him here as quick as possible," he said, pointing Nicholas to handle the gate. Pete followed them, hastily passing blue surgical towels to Rosita and Aidan. "Annie, Carrie, you're backing us up with Walkers. Everyone understand?"

There was a general murmur of agreement, and Carrie made a point of catching his eye and nodding. Reassured by her confirmation, he signalled to Nicholas to open the gates and then led the group out.

"Everyone on the watch posts, stand down. Just be our eyes for us."

Starting out in the general direction he was in, the group raced down the familiar streets, a few of them taking out Walkers as they went by. They let Holly and Tara direct them from the tower, and they soon left the streets and burnt out houses and entered the wooded area, the terrain reminding Rick why he never used to relax, why he never indulged in a day of sweatpants and bare feet. Making sure to keep track of his group and ensure no one was getting left behind, he frequently checked over his shoulder and accounted for them, checking on Carrie in particular more than he ought to.

"Keep going in that direction," Holly told him, tracking them with her binoculars. "You're heading straight for him."

They almost didn't need her directions now, for the sounds of agonised moans were guiding their way. Sticking close to one another, they darted through the think trees and then came across the man with the W on his forehead. They found him curled up in agony, a mournful howl of pain escaping his lips as he panted for breath.

"Stay back," Rick told everyone, seeing Aidan darting forward with the surgical towels. "Rosita, cover me. Everyone else, watch our asses."

Throwing his rifle over his shoulder, he took out the handcuffs and quickly circled the man, looking him over. He darted forward and disarmed him of the machete he had been carrying, his sudden close proximity exposing him to the stench of filth that the man exuded. Seeing him, the man looked at Rick with his eyes wide open, a smile beginning to form on his dirty face…it only accentuated the W, which up close he could see was actually a scar.

"Any other weapons?" he asked, his tone straight forward as he latched the cuffs around one wrist. Still keeping his distance, he wrangled the man over onto his back, surprised when he began to laugh jovially. Cuffing his other hand now, Rick checked him for other weapons before he was completely satisfied. He gestured for Aidan and Rosita to come over, never taking his eyes off the man nor letting his hands go.

The most trained in first aid by Pete, Aidan and Rosita confidently stepped in, tearing the man's shirt back and assessing the source of the blood. Quickly glancing at his abdomen, Rick's heart clenched to see the gaping wound that had been left just to the right of his navel…that was exactly where Carl had been shot by Otis. Unable to stomach the irony, that Carl would live through that injury only to cause a similar one upon his father's instructions, he focused on the man in question, trying to interpret the reason behind his laughter. While a gunshot indicated someone had taken out a Walker, he frowned as the man continued laughing, not understanding.

"What's so funny?" he asked, not unkindly.

While ever this man was conscious there was opportunity to talk to him, and that's exactly what he needed. He didn't come out here with his people due to the goodness of his heart…he wanted answers to his many questions. The man's laughter immediately sobered, and he closed his eyes as if submitting to the pain for a moment. There was a long moment in which he simply lay there and shuddered, but he seemed to come good again. When he looked up at Rick with wide eyes that were brimming with tears, he started laughing again.

"You don't understand!" he managed to say through his laughter, his rancid breath hitting Rick right in the face.

"Understand what?"

He started to answer, but his words were cut off by a howl of pain.

"We need to get him to Pete," Aidan said urgently. "Now."

"Hang on," Rosita insisted, pressing another towel to the injury. "I've almost got enough pressure."

The man's howl of pain trailed off with a low growl, one that made the hairs on the back of Rick's neck stand up. He started laughing again, but this time it was no longer jovial as it was before. Looking at Rick again, he smiled in sinister amusement.

"You don't understand…I'm going to save you."

* * *

A/N Thanks for reading guys, please remember to leave me a review!


	18. Chapter 18

"You don't understand…I'm going to save you."

Unnerved by this remark, Rick tore his eyes off the man and looked around, checking that they weren't being snuck up on from behind. Seeing nothing but his own people, he shared a quick glance with Carrie before turning back to the man. "What from?" he asked, slapping his cheek to get his attention. "What are you saving us from?"

"Aidan, check his shoulder," Rosita said urgently. "Is there an exit wound?"

"No, the bullet only skimmed the top."

"There's no exit on his back. We need to go, now," she said, quickly corralling everyone into the positions she wanted them. "Aidan, you're going to help Rick, but keep applying pressure to the shoulder. Carter, you take his legs."

Forced to leave his questioning for now, Rick waited until everyone was in place before he and Carter picked the man up. At once he started snarling and thrashing around, a deep growl beginning to form in his chest before he suddenly lashed out. Lunging for Aidan, the man opened his mouth and tried to bite him, a surprised yelp indicating he succeeded. Struggling to restrain him, Rick and Carter lost their grip and dropped him before they could even take a step, the man howling in pain when he hit the ground.

"Son of'a - He bit me!" Aidan exclaimed, clutching his forearm.

"I'm saving you!" the man screamed, still thrashing around and yanking at the handcuffs. "Let me save you, I can do it!"

"He's fucking nuts!" Aidan decided, removing his hand to reveal that although there were teeth marks on his forearm, there was no broken skin.

"We have to get him inside," Rosita told them, reapplying the firm hold she had on his wound.

Rick was torn, part of him wanting to knock the man unconscious so that they could get him inside, and another part wanting to simply call it all off, to stay exactly where they were and start questioning him. But neither scenario was valid, for he needed him both conscious and safe…Walkers were already approaching thanks to the loud disturbance their group was causing, worsened by the sound of the necessary shots Annie and Carrie were firing. With nothing left to do but get him safely inside the walls, Rick hastily addressed the main holdup, knowing exactly the damage a man could cause with only their teeth. The man was still fighting them, snarling and snapping his teeth as he tried to take a bite at Rosita now.

Snatching one of the surgical towels that had fallen to the ground, Rick stuffed it into the man's mouth, pressing it deep enough that he would struggle to push it out. The man struggled predictably, throwing his head back and forth until Rick bundled him up in a headlock, changing positions so that the injured shoulder would rest against his own.

"Aidan, help Carter. Take a leg each, and go!"

"Lift on three," Rosita said. "One, two, three."

Moving as one, they rose with the man suspended in the air, and to their relief his struggles began to weaken, losing his breath as he breathed only through his nose. As quickly as they could manage they staggered back to Alexandria, Rick watching as the man's eyes rolled back and forward in his head. His breathing was heavy and laboured, sweat pouring down his filthy face as he submitted and let them do as they wished. Looking around, Rick saw Carrie falling back to cover them from the right, firing two shots to take down a Walker.

Soon enough they reached the streets and burnt out houses, Rick stumbling as little as he stepped off the curb. Finding a second bout of strength, the man suddenly lashed out with his feet, managing to land a heavy kick to Carter's face. Carter fell to his knee with a loud grunt, blood spilling from his lower lip as he hastily staggered back to his feet, carrying on regardless.

"You okay?" Rick asked.

Nodding stoically, Carter swore under his breath as they continued on, and when the man tried for a second kick Rick tightened his arm around his neck. It was a risky move trying for a choke, but the man was bringing it on himself. He held his arm tight until he felt the man's strength fading, and only then did he let up a little. Finally they made it back to the main road, and the gate to Alexandria quickly loomed up at them, opening at just the right moment to admit them without delay. Pete was waiting for them with the stretcher, his eyes narrowed with concentration and scrutiny as he mentally took stock of his patient. All but dropping the man onto the stretcher, Rick loosened his grip on around his neck and laid him down, but he did not drop his guard. Taking his cuffed hands he pulled them up above his head where they could be properly restrained.

"Annie," he started, coming around the stretcher to stand behind the man's head. "Go to the armoury, get me some more handcuffs or cable ties, whatever you can find."

While she left without delay, so did the stretcher. While Aidan helped Rosita climb on top to continue applying pressure, Carter held his legs down while Rick held his shoulders. The man was barely conscious, and Pete pulled the gag out looked into his eyes with a flashlight. As they moved he spoke to him loudly, pressing on the centre of his chest in attempt to rouse him.

"First bullet skimmed the top of his shoulder," Rosita began. "Second got the right lumbar region. Entry wound is about two inches across and gaping, no exit wound. He's bleeding heavily."

"Rick," Pete began, helping them push the stretcher up the road. "Did you get to ask him about his blood type? Did he mention any allergies or medical conditions?"

"No."

"Check his wrists for me, see if there're any medic alert bracelets."

"None of that matters," he told Pete up front, wanting to make things very clear. "I only need him conscious for five minutes."

Having reached the infirmary, there was a short lapse as they hauled the stretcher up the two steps and onto the porch. Racing ahead of them, Reg opened the door and stepped back to admit them, and waiting inside for them was Denise. Despite Pete's refusal to let her into the infirmary, she stood ready with a monitor and an IV bag. Wheeling the stretcher alongside the primary bed, Pete quickly ordered everyone into position.

"We're going to move him on the count of three. Rosita, get down and come stand on the far side of him, keep the pressure on. Rick, you manage the torso, Aidan and Carter you take his legs. Rosita, when we move him over, I'm going to take place of your hands, and then you go wash up and get gloves on. Everyone ready? On three…"

They moved in perfect sync, quickly transferring the man over to the other bed, Rosita and Pete exchanging places and leaving him to assess the wounds. Bustling around in a panic, Reg and Deanna moved the old stretcher out of the way, while Rick stayed by the man's head. Only concerned with what he could learn from him, he slapped his cheek and tried to rouse him, trying not to get in Denise's way as she clipped a monitor onto his finger before beginning to insert a cannula.

"Rick," Annie said breathlessly, running into the infirmary. "I've got the cuffs and cable ties."

Taking the handcuffs, he looped them around the ones already being worn and then secured the man's arms up by his head, keeping them restrained. "Use the cable ties on his ankles, fasten them to the bed."

"I've started an IV and oxygen," Denise began, wheeling over a cart full of medical instruments. "Suction or towels?"

Rick glanced up at Pete, noting the way his jaw twitched as Denise inserted herself into the situation. "Towels," he said abruptly, beginning to drop some of the used ones onto the floor behind him. "Quickly. Then pick those up."

In the midst of the chaos, Rick looked around and found Deanna. "Come over here."

She did so hesitantly, her arms folded defensively as she came closer. Impatient with her, Rick took her by the elbow and led her over to the man, steering her to stand in his place at the man's head. "You stand there, and listen."

"To what?" she enquired nervously. Her arms darted to her elbow, seeing the smear of blood Rick's hand had left on her shirt. She looked back at the man now, horrified by his state and the W on his forehead.

Not answering her question, Rick turned to Pete next. "I need you to get him conscious, now."

Pete shook his head, dropping the blood soaked towels aside and replacing them with new ones. "No, I'm going to have to put him under and intubate. I need to control his blood loss and retrieve the bullet. I think it's fragmented."

"Get him conscious. Now!" Rick shouted when it seemed Pete wasn't hearing him. The room instantly stopped, the flurry of activity coming to a halt as everyone looked over at Rick. Unperturbed, he continued. "I need to talk to him, now."

Pete just looked at him in astonishment. "Talk to him later, he's a little busy bleeding to death."

"Now," he said firmly, looking the doctor in the eye. "This is not up for discussion. There could be more of them out there, they could be surrounding us as we speak."

There was a long pause, the entire room silent except for the sound of the man's racing pulse on the monitor. Pete stared Rick down, doing his best to intimidate him, but to no avail. Seeing that Rick was serious, he looked to Deanna next, seeking her support. To Rick's relief, Reg stepped in.

"Do what Rick asks," he said gently, placating the situation.

Still, Pete looked to Deanna, backing down only when he got her reluctant nod of approval.

"Rosita, draw up ten milligrams of epinephrine, put it straight into the cannula like I showed you the other day. Denise, get an ammonia inhalant," he instructed, grabbing instruments off the cart and getting straight to work. "Rick…turn on the light over head, and shine it on the wound."

Doing as asked, he shone turned on the light and then moved it as required, adjusting its position and angle until Pete seemed happy. While Rosita drew up the drug instructed and then administered it, Rick watched as Pete worked, removing more towels from the wound as he tried to find the source of the bleeding. As soon as Denise returned, Rick turned his attention to her instead, watching as she snapped a small tube. Holding the smelling salts under the man's nose, Denise used her other hand to vigorously rub his sternum.

"Wake up," she said loudly, her mouth down by his ear despite the stench he exuded. "Wake up. Open your eyes." The man's eyes fluttered, and Denise looked up to the monitor. "Vitals are rising. Rosita, draw up another ten milligrams of epinephrine, have it ready."

"No," Pete said abruptly. "Come here and help me."

Denise swore under her breath, grabbing Rick's hand and placing it on the mans' sternum. "Press hard until he comes around."

Doing was he was told, Rick copied what she had been doing, his other hand roughly slapping the man's cheek. He felt grim satisfaction when the man's eyes properly fluttered open now, and he looked up at him with a blank look.

"Can you hear me?"

The man didn't respond, Rick's heart sinking the longer he tried to get a response out of him. Denise was back in an instant, standing by his side and assessing his pupils with a flashlight.

"You need to talk to him?" she muttered lowly.

"Yes. Now."

She nodded and then stepped away again. "Pete, I'm giving another five of epi."

"I didn't call for that."

Ignoring him, Denise administered the drug and then watched the monitor. "Wake up!" she said into the man's ear. "Look at me…look at me."

Looking into his eyes, Rick swore he could see the moment that consciousness dawned on the man, and it was a relief when his eyes slowly started darting around. Satisfied, Denise stepped away and let Rick back in. Putting his hand beneath the man's jaw, he turned his head so that he had to look up at him. "How many of you are there?"

It took another few moments of the man to respond, Rick repeating his question again until the man started moving his lips. His mumblings were incoherent at first, but as Rick slapped his cheek to make him focus, he finally started to speak.

"You don't belong here," he managed to say, coming around properly as he grimaced in pain. He started mumbling incoherently his eyes wild as he looked around, seeing Deanna hovering above him.

"Hey," Rick said abruptly, grabbing the man's face and making him look back at him. "Concentrate. Talk to me. How many of you are there?"

"I need to free you!" he suddenly roared, his sudden thrashing making Rick glad he had properly restrained him. Pete stepped back and swore, his concentration broken by the man's movements.

"How?" Rick asked, playing into what sounded like a delusion. "How will you free me?"

While Aidan stepped in and helped hold him down, Pete and Rosita scrambled to stop the bleeding. Directing Rosita where to hold the pressure, Pete came towards the head of the bed and looked at the cannula in the back of the man's hand, swearing angrily and looking to Denise. "A twenty? Are you fucking kidding me?"

"We don't have a sixteen," Denise said defensively, knowing what Pete was thinking. "Let me start a -"

"Just pick this shit up," Pete snapped at her, gesturing to the extra towels he had dumped on the floor. Ignoring the way the man growled at him threateningly, Pete tore off his gloves and then pulled on some new ones.

Thankfully the man turned back to Rick now, using the last of his strength for him. "I'll save you!" he hissed. "I'll set you free."

"You'll save me?" Rick continued, forcing him to maintain eye contact.

"Yes!"

"Who else? Who else will save me?"

"All of you!" he continued, jerking his head out of Rick's hand. "I'll save all of you!"

Grabbing him again, Rick slapped his cheek to get his attention. "Focus. Focus on me," he instructed. Knowing the information he needed, he changed tact in order to get it. "I want to help you save people."

The man's eyes widened dramatically, his pupils dilating at he looked up at Rick in awe. "Yes," he said quietly, very quickly beginning to weaken again. "Yes, help me."

"Where do I find more of you? I'll need their help to learn," he continued.

"Everywhere," he moaned, clenching his eyes closed. When he opened them again, his eyes were rolling, the whites exposed.

"How many of you?"

"Many…" he mumbled.

"Denise," Rick said loudly, starting to rub the man's chest again. "He's going again."

She was straight there, and ignoring Pete's protests she picked up a syringe and injected it into the IV. "Another five of epi. That's twenty now."

"Dammit, Denise!" Pete yelled at her. "He doesn't have enough blood volume to sustain that!"

"Then let me start a central line."

"No, you don't know how!"

"Then you d-"

"Shut up, both of you!" Rick cut them off, slapping the man's cheek as his eyes began to flutter open again. "Hey! Look at me! What's this?" he enquired, tracing his finger over the W on his forehead. "What does the W mean?"

It took a while for the man to fully comprehend the question, and even longer for him to answer it. "Me…that's me."

"What are you?" The man moaned softly now, a high pitched sound that only infuriated Rick even more. "What are you?" he asked again, shaking him.

"He's howling," Deanna said quietly, trembling as she put her hand on Rick's forearm to make hi pay attention. "Listen…he's howling."

Listening, Rick frowned as he found that she was right, and a few things began falling into place. The snarling, the growls…the biting. "You're a wolf?" he asked, wondering how much stranger this was going to get. "Is that what the W is? You're a wolf?"

The man seemed overjoyed that Rick had come to this conclusion, the smile on his face broadening. He shuddered for a moment, and just as they thought he was going to pass out again he let out another howl, this one louder and clearer than before. He trailed off with a laugh, the sound of it making the hairs on Rick's stand up.

"Where's your pack?" he asked now, changing tact again. "Where can I find your pack?"

"Everywhere," he said in delight. "You'll find us….we'll set you free."

"Why?" When he didn't respond, his eyes beginning to look glassy, Rick grabbed his shirt and started shaking him. "Why do you have to set me free?"

His mumbled something unintelligible before trailing off.

"Denise," Rick turned to her. "Give him more. Bring him back round again."

To his frustration, she didn't move. She stood with her gloved hands awkwardly held in front of her, her lips pursed as she observed the monitor. "There's no point," she sighed, speaking slowly as if still thinking. "Pete's right. He's hypovolemic."

"Meaning what?"

She looked at him apologetically, her tone disappointed as she began to explain. "Meaning he doesn't have enough blood volume to keep sustaining consciousness, no matter how much epinephrine I give him."

Swearing loudly, Pete all but shoved Denise out of the way, dragging another cart of medical instruments behind him. "Get me a bag of plasma. Can you handle that?" he snapped at her. "I'm starting a central line. Rosita, stay there with the clamps. Keep dabbing at any blood and looking for bleeders."

As Deanna quickly stepped out of the way and let Pete in, Rick looked at the man, seeing only the whites of his eyes. "Can you get him conscious again?" he asked Pete.

"No, I can't," he snapped impatiently, cutting away the man's shirt before beginning to wipe down the side of his neck. "How 'bout you step back and let me do my job? You can ask your questions later."

Not moving an inch, Rick looked at the monitor, understanding the prognosis. He weighed up his options, looking at Rosita to gauge what she was thinking. When she saw him looking at her she averted his eyes, indicating that she wanted no involvement in the decision he made. He didn't even have to look at Carrie…he knew she would do exactly the same thing. Now more than ever he wished Daryl was there with him, that he had anyone else from his group there to help him make this decision, to give him any indication of what the right choice was. Seeing Denise coming returning with a small bag of plasma, the label indicating it had been donated by Dean, Rick knew what the best decision was.

"Denise…put it back," he requested softly. "We can't waste it."

As he expected, Denise slowed to a stop and looked at him warily. Her eyes darted to Pete next, who simply looked up at Rick in astonishment.

"Start it," he told Denise, never taking his eyes off Rick. "Now."

Knowing he was setting himself up for an ugly argument, Rick stood his ground and turned to face Pete square on. "No. Let him die."

"What?"

"Let him die," he repeated, making himself perfectly clear.

Pete just gaped at him, and he stood there with a silver medical instrument poised. He turned to Deanna in outrage, but Rick spoke before Pete could even start.

"Let him die, or waste your time trying to save him. Either way, this man is not going to live."

"That is not your call to make," Pete growled at him, turning back to his patient and feeling around his neck. "Denise, get over here, now."

Rick made eye contact with Deanna now, his expression making it perfectly clear that he was demanding her support. She seemed to be on the fence, torn between trusting him to make the right decision and her own sense of morality. Knowing he could wear her down, Rick looked at her expectantly, his gaze not wavering.

"Pete," she said quietly, raising her voice when he ignored her. "Pete. That's enough."

There was a long pause, the entire infirmary watching and waiting with bated breath for Pete to respond. He stood very still, bent over the patient that he was determined to save, every instinct as a doctor telling him to keep trying, to do all that he could. While Rick didn't imagine that what he was asking Pete to do was easy, he didn't have the patience to feel sympathy for him.

"Were you ever going to let me save him?" Pete enquired, standing up now. His face was a mixture of fury and betrayal, but Rick did not let this get to him. "Huh?"

"No," he answered truthfully.

Staring at him for a moment, Pete angrily threw the medical instrument down, the metal clattering loudly. "Then why did you bring him here? Why did you bring him to me?" he demanded as he stepped towards him.

"I told you, I needed five minutes. I got it."

Seething in anger, Pete clenched his jaw as he looked around at everyone, seeking someone who would support him. But either agreeing with Rick or too afraid to speak up, the infirmary remained absolutely silent.

"This is a fucking joke," Pete roared, making Denise jump in fright.

He tore off his gloves as he marched away, making a point of loudly bumping into the cart of instruments as he went. Hastily washing his hands and arms in the kitchen sink, he glared at each of them in turn, daring someone to contradict him. When he left, he slammed the door behind himself with such force that the windows rattled. His departure left the infirmary almost silent, the only sound being the beeps that came from the monitor, indicating the man's slowing pulse. Trying to think, Rick resisted the need to wearily rub his face, and he took a moment to look down at himself, seeing that he was covered in blood from the way he had been carrying the man.

Unsure of what to do now, he raised his head and looked around at those who remained. It came as no surprise that everyone avoided making eye contact with him, that they stood in silence and looked at the floor, their body language closed off and defensive. Looking at Carrie, he waited for her to raise her head, to give him something that would indicate he had done the right thing…but even as he thought this, he knew he wouldn't be getting that from her. She'd come a long way, but still she didn't completely understand the type of calls he had to make. Realising he couldn't get support even from her, he felt very alone in that moment.

Denise started forward now, tentatively looking at the monitors before peering at the abdominal wound. Quietly asking Rosita to step aside, she looked at the wound and made an assessment, tentatively moving a few of the instrument handles out of the way before glancing back at the monitors again.

She cleared her throat before speaking, her pace slow and thoughtful. "The bullet probably severed the femoral artery…even if we had blood on hand to transfuse, he's lost too much already…judging by the towels," she concluded, glancing at the towels that had been soaked and cast aside.

"Meaning what?"

"Meaning we probably won't able to save him, even if we try."

Though he understood what she trying to do, that she was trying to reduce his culpability in the man's impending death, Rick rejected it. "No," he stated, clearing his throat and then speaking. "As far as everyone here is concerned, he died because I refused to let Pete treat him." Glancing up, he looked around at everyone. "Is that clear?"

"Why?" Denise tentatively asked while everyone else simply nodded.

"Because Carl is the one who shot him."

Denise averted her eyes, glancing back at the monitor again. "I understand," she said, watching as the man's vital signs continued falling.

The silence resumed, and less than a minute later the man stopped breathing, the monitor emitting a single, steady beep that indicated his heart had also stopped. With a short sigh, Denise reached over and turned it all off.

"Time of death, twelve forty two," she stated, pulling off her gloves with a loud snap. "April twenty fifth."

Satisfied that it was over and done with, Rick simply went about managing the next tasks, speaking without needing to think about what he said. "Annie, Nicholas. Are you two up for doing a run?"

They raised their heads and finally looked at him, and though they appeared rather reluctant, they nodded in agreement.

"I need you to go to the mall and tell everyone on construction to return home, immediately. Take whatever weapons you need, and Tara too if she's willing."

"Okay," Annie said softly, she and Nicholas departing in relief.

"Aidan, relieve Michonne from the north watch post. Send Shelly home too. Denise, check on Carter and Carrie, get them patched up," he requested, glancing at Carrie as he did. "Rosita. Get yourself cleaned up, and then go get Carl from the east post. Take him home, and ask Spencer to stay…and I'm going to need your knife."

There was a brief pause before everyone else nodded in agreement and then did as they were told, Aidan and Rosita both cleaning themselves up before promptly leaving. As Denise ushered Carrie and Carter over to the corner to assess their forearms and lip respectively, Rick managed to catch Carrie's eye. Her expression was one of defeat, and when she looked at him it was with a flicker of what felt like doubt. Having no time to dwell on this, Rick simply glanced at Deanna and Reg, knowing he had to deal with them now. Picking up the knife Rosita had left on the bed for him, he sized up it's handle and then got a good grip on it.

Making sure that Deanna was watching, he turned the dead man's head to the side and pressed the tip of the blade against the base of his skull. With a well practiced motion, he drove the knife up and into the brain, hearing Deanna's sharp intake of breath. Being thorough, he moved the knife inside the skull, making absolutely sure that there would be no reanimation before removing it. Taking a moment to think, he turned the man's head back and then gently closed his eyelids.

"I had to break down the armoury door," he stated plainly, still looking at the dead man. "Then I had to ask my son to kill someone, because he was the only one who was could."

"Yes," Deanna agreed, sounding as displeased as him.

Clearing his throat, he looked up at her now. "There are some things that will need to change, regardless of whether that change is welcome or not. I'll be expecting your full support, without question."

As he anticipated, Deanna looked to Reg, gauging his thoughts before returning her gaze to Rick. "You have it," she stated, though he sensed her reservations. "What do you need?"

"A meeting, today. Aside from the younger children, I want every one of your people there. No exceptions."

"The older children," Deanna began gently. "Their pare-"

"No exceptions," he stated again, keeping his temper in check and his tone of voice calm. "I'll arrange for one of my people to…baby sit the others."

"And exactly how long will they be yours and mine?" she asked, her tone bordering on defensive.

"That remains to be seen."

Reg stepped forward, looking between the two of them. "What time would be most convenient for you, Rick?"

Glancing at the clock on the wall, he considered the various aspects that he would need to take care of. "Four o'clock."

Reg nodded. "We will be there," he agreed. "With no exceptions."

"Good."

"Sweetheart," Reg continued, looking to Deanna. "Perhaps you should start speaking to people. Let them know things are alright."

Understanding this as a request to leave, as unusual as it was coming from her husband, Deanna did as she was asked. She departed promptly, clearing her throat as she prepared to go house to house and speak with the residents. Reg lingered behind, clearly stealing himself to say something, but perhaps unsure of what. While he waited, Rick looked at Carrie from the corner of his eye. Having tended to Carter and sent him home, Denise was now dabbing at her forearms with an antiseptic solution, and he was glad to see her scrapes were not as extensive as he first thought. He wished he could get something from her, that she would give him some iota of support, but she avoided his gaze.

"Rick…is there anything I can do?" Reg enquired, moving around to stand on the opposite side of the bed. "Do you need help with him?"

On the inside, Rick smiled grimly. He was not going to be responsible for Reg putting his back out while trying to carry a corpse, but he appreciated the offer, understanding that it must have been difficult to make. Feeling rather more patient with Reg than Deanna, Rick shook his head. "No, thank you. Michonne won't be far."

"What else?" Reg asked again. "How else can I help?"

Looking up at him, Rick tried not to sigh. "I just need your support at the meeting. That's all."

Nodding, Reg put his hands into his pockets, shifting his weight on his feet. "Can I ask what you'll be discussing?"

"I'm not sure yet," he lied. He knew exactly what changes were going to be enforced.

"And the older children must be there?"

"Yes."

Again, Reg simply nodded. "Alright. I'll see you at four o'clock." He turned to leave, and he made it all the way to the door before he stopped and spoke again. "Are you sure I can't send Aidan to help? Spencer?"

"No," he shook his head. Hearing him open the door, Rick looked up at him, feeling the need to clarify something. "Reg…I'm only trying to keep them safe for you. You don't get anyone back once they're gone."

"I understand," he said quietly, having paused for a moment. "Thank you."

Questioning whether he really did understand, at least in the way Rick did, he let Reg leave, breathing a sigh of relief when he was gone. The blood on his hands was still wet, and so he resisted the urge to run them through his hair or pinch the bridge of his nose. Instead he looked back up at Carrie yet again. There was no dressing or bandages on her arms, but it seemed Denise was satisfied for Carrie was leaving, and quickly too. As she headed for the door and left she didn't look at Rick once. He wished he knew what she was thinking, questioning how many times she would see him in this type of situation before deciding she was done with him. Her demeanour now sure seemed to indicate she was having that type of doubt.

Trying to distract himself, he turned back to the corpse on the bed and started looking it over, trying not to associate it with a living, breathing person that had been killed on his command. Starting at the collar, he began rifling through the man's clothes.

"You should wash your hands and put on some gloves," Denise said quietly, seeing what he was doing. "For your own health and safety," she added, trailing off awkwardly.

Doing as he was asked, Rick headed into the kitchen and turned on the taps, using the antibacterial hand soap. He washed vigorously, stopping only when the water ran completely clear and his skin could no longer stand the heat. Pulling on a pair of gloves, he returned to the corpse and got to work, though he couldn't hold back his surprise when Denise did the same. Stepping over the blood soaked towels that Pete had dumped on the floor, she washed her hands and then put on some more gloves before joining him at the bed.

"Is there anything in particular you're looking for?" she enquired, watching as he rifled through the man's pockets.

"Anything that indicates where he came from," he muttered, frustrated to find very little.

Taking out everything, he dumped the few items onto the nearby cart alongside the medical equipment, frustrated by what he found. There were some empty shell casings, a quarter of a granola bar that would have been too hard to bite, a pocket knife and what looked like a key ring. No maps, no car keys, nothing that would indicate where he had been living. While Denise peered at his eyes and then looked into his mouth, Rick critiqued the items he had found. To his surprise, the knife was broken off at the hilt, leaving only a half inch stub that would still manage to inflict some damage.

"He's vitamin deficient," Denise remarked, looking at his finger nails and then running her hands through his long red hair, observing bald patches.

"That's not unusual for living out there."

"No, but he's been like this for quite some time." She tugged on a clump of his red hair, showing Rick the ease at which it came out. "He's probably been living rough from the very beginning."

This observation didn't exactly sit well with Rick. He already knew that this man was not acting alone…the notion that he and others had potentially been living out there since the very beginning did not bode well. It didn't take much to presume that any others would be of a similar state of mind. A group of deranged people were a major threat, one that could not be reasoned or negotiated with. Thinking of Daryl and Aaron who were out recruiting without this knowledge, his concerns only worsened.

"I wouldn't do that," he warned Denise, seeing that she was untying the man's shoe laces. Glancing out the window, he caught a glimpse of Michonne headed up the street, and he knew where she was going. "What did you do to piss off Pete?"

She cringed, lowering her head as though she was in trouble. "Oh. You noticed that, huh?"

"Kind of difficult not to."

"Pete doesn't…put much faith in psychiatry," she said, occupying her hands by beginning to remove the various medical instruments that were inside the man's abdomen.

"You are a doctor though, aren't you?" he enquired, seeing the way she confidently handled the instruments. "You seemed to know what you were doing with him," he remarked, gesturing to the man.

She nodded. "Pete doesn't put much faith in my surgical skills, either. He studied at Stanford…had nearly fifteen years experience. He has a PhD too. He wrote for medical journals."

"Good for him."

Denise nodded, smiling nervously as she removed the cannula from the man's arm, unhooking the oxygen cords and blood pressure cuff. "I have a tendency towards panic attacks…hence my interest in psychiatry."

"The point I'm trying to make," he started, seeing that she was talking herself out of it before he could even ask. "Is that one doctor is good…two is better."

As Michonne opened the door and let herself into the infirmary, Denise started laughing. "You're telling me?" she shrugged. Shaking her head, she sighed as she began picking up the blood soaked towels, piling them onto the cart to be disposed or cleaned. "You're not the only one to make that observation."

"Meaning, what?"

"Meaning…Pete doesn't want me in here. Even though he's got no faith in my skills, he's still threatened by me," she laughed in exasperation, looking at Rick. "I mean, seriously? A doctor like Pete, threatened by me?"

"What would it take for him to let you in here?" he enquired, sharing a glance with Michonne. She seemed stoic as she looked at the dead man, and her expression gave little away.

"That won't happen," Denise said lowly, grabbing a clean towel and beginning to clean up the floor. "Like I said, he doesn't want me here."

Peeling off his gloves, Rick finally rubbed the bridge of his nose between his eyes, the habit always grounded him, helping him get his head on straight. He looked down at the dead man again, trying to make sense of everything he had just learned about him, about the _Wolves_.

"Have you seen Carl?" he asked Michonne.

She nodded. Coming forward, she untucked the sheet from the mattress and draped it over the body, the two of them automatically starting the process. "Rosita told him," she said lowly, not needing to clarify what she was referring to.

"He take it alright?" he asked, copying what she had done with the sheet. Though it was crisp white, the sheet was stained with blood around his shoulder and abdomen.

"He seemed to. You should go home."

He shook his head. "Let's just get this over with."

Without further fuss they readied their weapons and then hauled the body into their arms, quickly getting a good hold before they left. Now that the danger had passed people were tentatively coming back out of their houses, standing on their porches and talking in worry. Though he had no intention of doing so, there was no hiding what had happened that day. Conscious that carrying a dead body through the streets while covered in blood wasn't going to help his image, Rick tried to think about the meeting that afternoon. He tried to organise his thoughts, to mentally prepare himself for what he was going to have to say. Though he knew he would have the support of his group, and the reluctant support of Deanna, he knew this was going to be difficult. He was going to have to force this on them, for they no longer had the luxury of delusions.

Dwelling on everything, he led Michonne out of the gates and towards the closest Walker trap, quietly grateful when Rosita turned up to escort them. None of them said a word to one another as they tossed the body into a Walker pit, knocking over two of the trapped Walkers which they would put down at another time. For now they had other priorities, and with one task completed Rick returned home, still struggling to get his thoughts in order. Exhausted both physically and mentally, he wished he could avoid Carl that afternoon, that he didn't have to talk to him about what happened, to mitigate his guilt over a strangers death. He wanted nothing more than to shower and then think for a while, to give himself time to think and process everything that had happened.

But as usual, time and privacy were in short supply when Rick needed them most. Forcing himself to put Carl first, he delayed only long enough to shower and wash away the remnants of what had happened, to wash away the droplets of blood that were spattered over his face and neck. Forgoing any concept of a day off, he fully redressed, breathing a mental sigh of relief as he slipped his boots on and then secured his duty belt around his hips, reassured to have it back. Trying to relax that day had been a mistake…he'd let his guard down at the worst moment, and he had endangered himself by going outside the walls in sweatpants and bare feet. He wouldn't let that happen again, especially when half the able fighters were not around. That too was a mistake he couldn't allow to happen again.

Taking some time to be with Carl, the two of them talked on the front porch for a short while. Michonne's observation that he seemed to be taking it well was correct, this making their entire conversation easier. Not trying to protect him from things he actually needed to know, Rick relayed what the Wolf had said, explaining and reassuring Carl that the choice to follow his orders had been the right one. But when it came to their discussion of the man's death, he wasn't quite sure that Carl believed him when he said the death was not his responsibility.

Denise's remark that there was no saving this man was not what Rick wanted to become public knowledge…this was something he wanted to protect his son from as long as possible. He didn't want that man's death on Carl's conscience, not when he had been the one to make the call, and so he tried to claim responsibility, insisting he had allowed the man to die and glossing over the fact that there was no saving him in the first place. Though Carl listened and nodded in all the right places, Rick got the feeling that he didn't quite believe him, and that he would count this man would be another number on his tally. Nevertheless, there was nothing he could do about this, and so when Carl asked if he could go and take watch from one of the platforms, he let him. If Carl needed space, he would give it to him, even if it was from one of their watch points.

To his frustration it seemed Carrie was avoiding him at the moment, for when he returned inside and looked around for her, she was nowhere to be seen. He quickly deduced that she was in her bedroom, and though the door was open as usual, he got the distinct feeling that she wanted to be alone, that just like Carl did she needed time to process what had happened. Still infuriated that she and Rosita had left the walls without their guns, Rick was tempted to go in there and talk to her anyway, to demand an explanation. But even as this thought occurred to him, he knew he wouldn't do that. There would be time later for them to talk, perhaps tonight, but for now she was hiding from the world, and he didn't blame her.

Doing the same thing she was, Rick stealthily slipped away, climbing the stairs towards Daryl's attic bedroom. Despite Carl having joked that he would be laying claim to it while he was gone, they both knew that it would remain empty, that soon enough it would welcome him back. But just like it was when Daryl was home, the attic bedroom felt abandoned and unloved, far from the comfortable space which Carol had hoped to create for him. There was a rug, a nice bed, a couch and even a television, but the room was merely a space Daryl occupied from time to time. Since his departure a week and a half ago, Rick suspected he had spent as much time up there as Daryl had in his entire time. He found himself wandering up here on occasion, not only trying to fill the hours in each day, but as a way of reminding himself that Daryl would be back.

Entering the attic bedroom, Rick hovered in the centre of the rug, mentally trying to talk himself out of his main reason for coming up there. He really shouldn't be doing this…he didn't approve of it, and yet here he was…this would be his third time since Daryl had left. Opening the top drawer of the nightstand, he took a cigarette from the packet and dangled it from his lips, taking a lighter and then closing the drawer. He opened the window at the rear of the house and then very carefully climbed out onto the roof, sitting down and steadying himself before shuffling to the right. Carl had come looking for him up there the other day, nearly catching him with a cigarette, but his habit of moving away from the window had allowed him to keep this secret.

He kept many secrets from his son.

Lighting the cigarette, he gratefully tasted the tobacco and told himself this would be the last one, that he wouldn't do this again. Flicking the lighter shut, Rick closed his eyes and put his head back against the wall, blowing the smoke out with a long breath. He could hear yelling from somewhere, the sound of glass smashing, but he couldn't find it in himself to care. He was exhausted, depleted…he felt like there wasn't enough left for him to worry about other people's problems.

Alexandria though…their delusion of safety _was_ Rick's problem. What had happened that afternoon was a series of things that went wrong, it wasn't an isolated issue that endangered them. Shelly's complacency, Olivia not being at the armoury, half of Rick's people far away, Carrie and Rosita without their guns…things were going to have to change. This had been a wake up call, but he questioned whether or not it would be enough for the Alexandrian's to comprehend the seriousness. Thinking on that, he scoffed to himself. It definitely was not enough for them to comprehend what they had only just managed to avoid. If that man got back to his group…if they had returned and taken them by surprise…

Drawing on the cigarette again, Rick knew he was going to have to take drastic measures at the meeting.

* * *

A/N Hey all! Unfortunately I am back to working weekends, meaning that the usual schedule of posting on weekends will be rearranged. Starting next week I will most likely post the weekly chapter on a Thursday. Occasionally I will post two chapters in one week (depending on the content and when I feel the need to speed things up for you), but the weekly posting will be midweek from now on.

Thanks for the reviews, I've got a few lengthy ones which are an absolute pleasure to read! I'll be able to respond to them over the next few days.


	19. Chapter 19

Three hours passed quickly, and before Carrie knew it the community meeting was only minutes away. Though she had done nothing more than shower and hide in her bedroom, the afternoon seemed to pass in a heart beat. After everything that had happened that day she felt somewhat shell shocked…it had been quite some time since anything dangerous had happened. In a way she was still in disbelief, this feeling exacerbated by her reluctance to be around anyone else that afternoon. She wanted nothing more than to sit in peace as she digested the events, her mind taking her through all the scenarios that might have played out.

Quite possibly she owed her life to Rick…again.

She and Rosita were clueless about the danger that awaited them outside the walls, and neglectful to have not taken their weapons with them. In hindsight, Carrie regretted this poor decision immensely. It wasn't just themselves they had endangered, they had put their entire community at risk by compromising their own safety. Rick had been forced to go outside and get them, risking his own life to prevent them running into the man with the W, the _Wolf_. Furthermore, any number of things could have gone differently. Had he been armed the Wolf could have hurt them, he could have taken them hostage…she and Rosita had made a huge mistake that day, one that was uncharacteristic.

Whether it was divine intervention or a stroke of luck, the sequence of events that followed worked in the community's favour. She and Rosita had accidentally evaded the Wolf, Rick had found them quickly, Carl had taken an accurate shot…things could have gone very differently. With that in mind, Carrie had a reason other than avoiding reality for staying in her bedroom that afternoon. She was ashamed of herself for growing so complacent, for being neglectful…that wasn't like her. Wishing she could hide a little longer, it was with great reluctance that she emerged from her bedroom and went to the house next door to help Tara. As the community meeting drew nearer, the parents of the younger children who had been excused came by the second house where they would be baby sat. Why Tara would ask Carrie of all people for help she did not know, for even after six weeks she hadn't quite adjusted to interacting with Judith, and she had very little to do with the other children. She didn't publicly admit that she disliked children in general, it wasn't a notion people were very accepting of, so when Tara asked for help she had no choice but to accept.

It wasn't such an arduous task in reality, all she really did was find some extra pillows and the bean bag from Noah's bedroom before making Tara a pot of coffee to get her through the afternoon. In fact, while the children happily talked amongst themselves and began to settle in, Carrie could see it wasn't them who would be making her grind her teeth…it was their parents. Reluctant to attend the community meeting in the first place, Barbara and Charlyne seemed reluctant to entrust their children into Tara's care, but not more so than Anna. Much to Carrie's surprise, Anna seemed outright anxious to be leaving Haley for a short while, behaviour she hadn't seen her exhibit before today. Even after Barbara and Charlyne left, Anna lingered a while longer, fussing over Haley despite the fact she'd be barely more than a block away.

The stress of that day was building up in the back of Carrie's mind, and as she felt her patience waning and her frustration peaking, she removed herself from the immediate situation. She couldn't stand to watch Anna worrying, and nor could she stand to hear Tara reassuring her with the patience of a saint. Instead she wandered through the living room and positioned herself by the front windows. On the couch behind her the five children were getting settled in, excitedly passing a selection of DVDs back and forth as they tried to choose. Dreading what was coming very soon, she folded her arms and leant against the window frame as she looked outside onto the street, observing Rick, Abraham and Rosita as they talked. They'd been in deep discussion for about ten minutes, ever since Rick had dropped off Judith who immediately burst into tears upon his departure. Her cries had stopped the moment Tara distracted her with a toy, but almost as if to echo Judith's sadness, Carrie too was reluctant to see Rick go…but on that note she was glad he didn't stay either. They hadn't spoken to one another since everything had happened at the Infirmary, since Rick had forced Pete to let the Wolf die. If they were to speak, she wasn't sure what she wanted to say to him.

So instead, Carrie watched him from afar, trying to figure out exactly what he was planning for the community meeting that would start shortly. He, Abraham and Rosita were huddled together as he appeared to count down a list on his fingers. They each looked worried about something…worried, but determined. Abraham started making wild gestures with his arms, forming his fingers into a cage as though he was throttling someone by the neck, but there was no true indication of what he was talking about. Rick nodded in agreement, turning to Rosita next. She appeared to think for a moment, scuffing the toe of her boot against the ground before she too nodded. They talked a little more and then came to an agreement, Abraham and Rosita nodding once more before departing. As they walked up the road and then turned towards the gate, Abraham put his hand on Rosita's waist, a gesture that made Carrie ache with jealousy. It was a simple gesture, but one that meant a lot…that's what she wanted with Rick, but she was unsure if it would ever happen.

Looking back to him, she wasn't surprised to find that he still had more to discuss, and Michonne, Glenn and Noah were his audience now. As they talked, Rick gestured back and forth up the street, apparently laying out some kind of plan, something he needed them to do, but again it was unclear to Carrie. Nevertheless she watched them, and as the serious conversation continued she couldn't help but feel a little left out. It seemed Rick was talking to everyone but her, and though she'd always known she wasn't the inner circle of his group, neither was Noah really, and yet there he was. As soon as these thoughts occurred to her, she told herself to settle down, to not act like Rick was working against her. She may be feeling left out, but that was probably her issue more than his…besides, on one level she couldn't blame him. He was pissed with her for leaving the walls without a gun, and she'd surely hurt his confidence in the Infirmary…she'd refused to look at him, refused to take part in and give support for what he was doing.

It had been his intention all along to let the Wolf die, he had never intended for Pete to save his life…decisions like that? While on the surface they were tactically right, Carrie always got hung up on the morality of it, whereas Rick didn't. For that reason, and knowing her sense of morality directly contradicted what he knew to be tactically right, she had avoided his eye. She knew he was making the right decision, but if he looked to her for support she wasn't sure she would be able to give it. He always knew so much more than she did…he had more experience, more understanding of this world. She still had the capacity to trust, to give the benefit of the doubt. In one way, expressing her morality would only hold Rick back.

Noah was departing now, leaving only Glenn and Michonne talking with Rick. They nodded and shrugged their shoulders a few times, but their expressions were of clear determination. Carrie could tell that they didn't like whatever it was Rick had planned, but that they understood the necessity of it. Like always, they trusted him, they support him. Knowing that it wasn't always that easy for her, guilt burned inside Carrie. Would it always be like this? Would she always second guess Rick? That's not how she wanted it to be, she wanted to have complete faith in him, because she knew that he always made the right decision and for the right reason…she wished it were that black and white for her.

A minute later Michonne and Glenn departed too, but as though she'd been waiting Carol was there in an instant to take their place, although this conversation was a little shorter. They spoke quickly, exchanging a few brief words before Carol started on her way again, still talking over her shoulder. Rick stood there and listened, nodding at something she said before suddenly looking up at the second house, his gaze falling directly on where Carrie stood in the window. Her heart thudded, her cheeks tinged pink when she realised she'd been caught watching him from afar, but rather than look away in embarrassment she held his gaze. If he wanted to leave her out of whatever it was he was planning, the fine. He could do whatever the hell he wanted, but it was still a free country. She could watch him if she pleased.

But a moment later Carrie felt bad for her harsh thoughts, seeing that he was coming towards the house now. She felt a flicker of relief and sighed…whatever he was planning, he was coming to tell her about it. He wasn't shutting her out, he wasn't giving her a cold shoulder. As he climbed the front steps Carrie went to the door and opened it, but her relief turned to surprise when she found him hovering halfway across the porch.

"Hey," he said awkwardly, looking rather uncomfortable.

The momentary relief she had experienced began to fizzle out. "Hey."

"Could you get Tara, please?" he requested, his tone too polite. "I, er…I don't want Judith to see me here."

Not saying anything, Carrie turned and left him there, leaving the door wide open as she went into the kitchen. She and Anna were discussing the snacks, Tara trying her best to placate the discomfort Anna felt at leaving her daughter here, almost as if she too knew that something significant was going to happen at the community meeting. When she interrupted them, Carrie could see the relief on Tara's face. Standing in the kitchen with her arms folded again, she watched as Tara joined Rick on the front porch, the two of them talking quietly. As they discussed something, Rick was glancing up at Carrie and then looking away quickly, but his eyes always returned a few moments later. The previous frustration Carrie felt with him returned, but worse this time. When he finally left, he did so avoiding Carrie's gaze, turning away and leaving without a word.

"Is everything alright?" Anna asked gently, placing her hand on Carrie's arm. "You seem upset."

Carrie shook her head and forced a smile. "No, everything's fine. Thank you."

"It must have been very stressful," Anna said sympathetically, and it took Carrie a moment to realise she was referring to the Wolf's death.

"We should get to the meeting," she told her kindly, wanting to change the subject. "They'll be starting soon."

Anna hesitated and then shook her head, looking into the living room. "No, I'll wait a little longer," she said, clearly stalling. "I just need to make sure Haley's alright."

Following her gaze, Carrie looked at Anna's daughter Haley, observing her white blonde hair and tanned skin. It was quite the contrast to Anna and Michael's dark hair and olive complexions, and she couldn't help but wonder if Haley had always been their daughter, or if it had happened that way after the outbreak. Watching the way she and the other children debated over which movie they were going to watch, Carrie smiled to herself.

"I think Haley's got this under control," she said supportively, feeling a little more patient than before.

Unable to argue, Anna nodded. "I'll just stay a little longer," she insisted worrisomely.

Likely understanding the reason for Anna's delay, Tara stepped up and took charge, expertly calling the five children to attention as she collected the DVDs. Keeping her voice light hearted and playful, she helped them come to their decision, ruling out three of the choices and then hiding the final two behind her back.

"Okay, which hand? Left or right?" she asked, shuffling the DVDs behind her back.

"Left!" Conner exclaimed.

Courtney moaned at choice. "No, the right one!"

"Yeah, the right one," Haley added supportively.

Tara shook her head and revealed the DVD in her left hand. "Conner was first. Finding Nemo!"

The final choice was greeted with a mixture of groans and cheers, but the protesters settled quickly with Tara's assurance that the alternative would be the choice next time. As the kids settled into their seats and Tara inserted the disc, she kept them organised with the expertise of someone who knew children well.

"I'm making popcorn," she finally concluded as the menu appeared on the television. "But don't give any to Judith okay?" she told them, looking at Judith who was sitting between Sam and Haley on the couch.

"But, what if she wants some?" Sam asked in concern.

"I'm making her a different snack, she won't mind. Is everyone ready? Courtney, do you need your glasses for the television?"

At this Courtney leapt to her feet and raced over to the kitchen bench where she had left them, and when she returned to her seat Tara started the DVD. As an animated Great Barrier Reef appeared on the television screen, Carrie sighed and checked her watch, seeing that they really ought to be going. While Tara closed the front curtains, she tried to coax Anna into leaving, but when she stalled their departure again Carrie had to force down her frustration. Completely engrossed in the move already, it was clear Haley was unconcerned by her mother's imminent departure, and that it was Anna who was worried about leaving.

"Come on Anna, we have to go," she said as kindly as possible. "They won't start until we're all there, they'll be waiting on us. Haley is fine, you know she is."

Though she was still hesitant, Anna finally agreed to leave, but only after a last minute consultation with Tara, who soothed Anna's worries without frustration. Letting her linger long enough to give Haley a kiss on the cheek, Carrie opened the front door and the two of them began to leave, but Tara stopped her at the last minute. Hovering in the front doorway, she gestured for Carrie to come back, and when she did Tara spoke in a low voice.

"Hey, look," she began gently. "Whatever it is Rick did to make you give him the stink eye…unless he's been stepping out on you, give him the benefit of the doubt."

"That's your recommendation?" Carrie questioned, annoyed with Tara's need to give advice. "Benefit of the doubt?"

Tara nodded. "Yeah."

Gritting her teeth, Carrie set aside her pride and asked, "You know what's going on? He's told you?"

Again, Tara nodded.

"What is it?"

This time Tara sighed, looking at her apologetically. "If he hasn't told you, then I can't tell you. You know I can't."

She laughed bitterly. "So, there is something going on? Something he doesn't want me in on?"

"Carrie…" Tara began. "Just go with it, okay? You know you can trust him. He's got the bigger picture in mind."

Giving this a moment of thought, Carrie agreed with Tara, albeit reluctantly. Despite this, her agreement didn't mean acceptance…if Rick wanted to keep her in the dark about something important that he had planned then that was his prerogative, but it didn't mean she had to like it.

"Have fun with the kids," she said shortly, though she tried to keep her tone light, not wanting to misdirect her frustration onto Tara.

Departing, she descending the front steps and joined Anna on the pavement, but the sound of the lock turning made her pause. She looked back at the second house, hearing a loud click that indicated the deadbolt too was locked…that alone was an indication that things were not alright. They never locked doors in Alexandria, they didn't need to. But accepting that this was an occasion where she was not privy to the finer details, Carrie was forced to swallow her pride and simply get on with it. She was not a part of Rick's inner circle. She'd always known that, but the last hour was making that exceptionally clear to her.

She and Anna fell into step with each other, and as she always did Carrie put on her best face for the Alexandrian resident. It was her job to win people's trust and make friends, even at times when things were difficult…she couldn't do that with a scowl on her face. They made the short walk to Deanna's courtyard, catching Abraham and Rosita as they arrived from the other direction. As Anna went through the gate first, Carrie lingered and waited for the others, not surprised that they seemed to be hiding something from her. They stood by one of the townhouse garages, propping a long pole up against the wall as Rosita tossed some heavy duty gloves into a bucket. Realising they were being watched, she gave Carrie a nod of acknowledgement and then came up the road to her, leaving Abraham behind.

"Everything alright?" Carrie asked, looking at the bucket they had tossed the gloves into. They only wore the heavy duty gloves when they were dealing with the Walkers.

"Yeah," Rosita nodded, ushering Carrie into the courtyard where the whole community stood waiting. "Just dealing with some Walkers outside the walls."

Though she didn't believe her, for Walkers outside the walls were typically taken care of by the traps or the Watch tower, Carrie held her tongue. Looking around for an empty space, she led Rosita over towards the stairs that led up to Deanna's terrace, glad to see they were free. As she took a seat and Rosita sat beside her, Carrie looked around and observed the community, for from this point she could see almost everyone. Michonne and Carl stood on the terrace above her leaning against the railing, while Glenn stood by one entrance gate, with Noah and Eugene standing by the rear. Carol stood on the edge of the bricked flower beds a few yards away from Rick, while Maggie and Sasha had taken shifts on the watch posts. Exchanging a glance with Carol, Carrie knew that just like she had, Carol had chosen her position for a reason. From their places, they could see all the residents who were crowded in, could keep track and observe their demeanour. Just like Carol, Carrie too was responsible for subtly working on these people, for getting them on board and making sure they understood everything. This meeting would be an important indication for how things were going to progress in the community, so Carol and Carrie needed to have a thorough understanding of how people felt.

"Is everyone here yet?" Glenn asked.

There was a slight murmur, everyone looking around to see who was missing.

"It looks like only Betsy," Deanna reported, joining Rick at the front. "Why don't we get started?"

"No," he said abruptly. "We'll wait for her."

Looking around, Carrie took note that everyone seemed to be getting restless, eager to get this over and done with and frustrated by the delay. At Deanna's request, Spencer left to go and find Betsy, who was likely stalling her arrival as much as Anna had. In a moment of disbelief, Carrie realised that only a few hours ago she had been at Betsy's house with the other women, sharing salacious gossip while Erin fawned over Rick…she got the feeling that sentiment had changed since then.

"How do you think this is going to play out?" she asked Rosita.

She just shrugged. Like she, Rosita seemed done with the day, like she had given up on it. What happened in the Infirmary had been rough on her too. "It could go anyway."

Arriving and squeezing past them to take a seat on the stairs above, Abraham snorted in disagreement. "There's only one way this is going to go," he muttered quietly, popping the cap off a bottle of beer and gesturing towards Rick. "His way."

Following his gaze, Carrie couldn't help but agree. Looking at Rick, who was standing down by the gate with his arms folded, his Colt glinting in the dying sunlight, she saw the determined look on his face. Though he was being patient and was trying to keep his body language open, Carrie knew his patience was lacking. Whatever he said next was undoubtedly going to be put into action…the amount of resistance he encountered was the unknown factor. Dwelling on what Tara has said to her, that she should give Rick the benefit of the doubt, Carrie wondered if she'd be able to. Whatever it was he had planned, he was going to initiate it now. She couldn't help but worry, even more so given the fact he was intentionally keeping her in the dark about it. As they waited for the last resident to join them, Rick suddenly looked up at Carrie and caught her eye, but he gave nothing away with his expression or body language. He simply looked at her for a few moments before turning away, his attention caught by Betsy's reluctant arrival.

"Let's get started," he said, watching as Betsy moved through the crowd and joined her husband, David. "I want to start by making sure that we're all on the same page, that everyone understands what happened today, and why things played out the way they did."

He paused, looking around everyone. Despite her frustration with him, Carrie admired the way he addressed the people, and hoped he managed to keep his tone as even and well paced as it was now. Making sure everyone was paying attention, he made eye contact with those who weren't, and didn't continue until he was satisfied he had everyone's attention.

"From the north post, Shelly noticed a man wandering around outside the walls, going in and out of the houses. When I saw him, I noticed that he had a W on his forehead, which was what initiated our reaction. We shot him, I talked to him for a few minutes, and then I told Pete to let him die. That's what happened. Everyone following me so far?"

There was a general murmur of agreement, but Carrie noticed more and more people beginning to avoid eye contact, even though they were still listening. They wanted to know what had happened, they wanted to be well informed, but they didn't want to engage with the finer details.

"The reason we reacted in that way, is we know that this guy and his group are a significant threat to us," Rick continued. "We know that they've been mutilating Walkers by cutting a W into their foreheads, the same W this man had today. We know they're violent, and that they're mentally unstable. In January before my group arrived here, we saw what these people did to another community of survivors, even though at the time we didn't realise the implications. You all know Noah, but you don't know that these people with the W's attacked his community. They broke down their walls, set houses on fire, murdered people and dismembered them. That was in Richmond."

Anxious whispers broke out, Carrie pleased to see that everyone seemed alarmed, but by this last point in particular. Alarmed by their proximity to Richmond, worry and fear began to spread quickly, but Rick continued speaking, everyone falling silent as they started listening again.

"Given the increasing number of Walkers with the W that we're seeing, and what happened today, it's safe to assume that these people are nearby. This group presents a very real danger to us."

"Who are they?" someone asked.

"They're a group of survivors living rough, and they've probably been that way from the start. When I talked to that man today, he told me they call themselves Wolves…he repeatedly offered to free me, to save me."

"From what?" the same person asked.

"From this world," Rick answered, shifting his weight. "That's what these people, these Wolves, do. They kill people on the belief that they're saving them. To people like you and I, that doesn't make sense. To them, it makes perfect sense. We don't know what other people they've killed, but we know they've attacked Richmond, and that now they're here."

"Do they know where we are?" Dean asked.

"Possibly. The man today seemed surprised when he saw our Walker traps, which makes me think he probably came here by accident. That said," he continued, seeing a few people sigh in relief. "It's only a matter of time before they do find us. They've been working in the area for quite some time, and they're likely to explore in this direction if they decide to look for their man."

Rick glanced over at her, and remembering the way she had been avoiding him all day, she made a point of nodding supportively, encouraging him. She knew her avoidance of him must have been difficult, particularly when on the supply run he'd always been so concerned with the way she perceived the darker side of himself.

"Are there any questions about what happened today?" Rick asked, looking around at everyone. "I want everyone on the same page."

A hand was tentatively raised, and it was Ron. Standing between his parents, his face was a mixture of curiosity and worry. "Did Carl really shoot that guy?"

It was Carl who answered. "Yes," he said shortly, his voice heard by all. Carrie could see his Beretta in the holster around his leg, and she suspected he felt safer having it on his person.

To everyone's surprise, Ron gave an embarrassed smile. "That's totally bad ass."

Horror crossed Jessie's face at this remark, and she swiftly looked around to chastise her son while a disgruntled murmur passed around the residents. They looked at Ron in disapproval, but their disapproval was also directed at Carl. Glancing up at him, Carrie felt immensely sorry for him in that moment. Though Rick had tried to negate his involvement in the man's death, she got the feeling that Carl could see through this attempt…after talking with Rick he'd left to take watch from the west post, and Carrie had watched him from her bedroom window. He had walked across the field with his head bowed and his hands in his pockets, far from the usual body language he showed.

"It's fine," Rick began, surprising everyone as he raised his hand in request for silence. He looked at Ron now, his tone very serious. "I understand why you think that way. For your sake, I hope you continue thinking that way, because thinking that means you've never had to shoot someone. You've never had to carry that burden, and I hope you don't." While Ron looked down at his feet, suitably shamed, Rick simply looked around at everyone else. "Who else? Questions?"

There was a short pause, everyone still digesting what Carl had done before someone else raised their hand. It was a man Carrie didn't really know…Bruce?

"Yeah, I've got a question," he said quietly. "You're the one who told Carl to shoot him, right?"

"Yes."

"And you…you made Pete let him die?"

"Yes."

There was an awkward pause, with Bruce clearly reconsidering his next question now that Rick seemed unperturbed by giving an honest answer. "Why did you have to be so drastic?" he enquired, looking to the people beside him for support. "Why couldn't you just…capture him?"

"And then do what?" Rick asked.

"You know, lock him up."

Rick shook his head, surprisingly patient. "And have another mouth to feed? Aside from the danger of him getting away and returning to his group, he'd be a danger to us, even in captivity. He tried very hard to hurt us today."

"Well…you did shoot him," Carter remarked.

Nodding in agreement, Rick actually smiled. "Yeah, we did." Clearing his throat, he scratched the back of his neck while exchanging a glance with Carol. "The fact is, I didn't have a choice. If we let him leave, then he'd bring his people back here, and frankly we would not be able to defend ourselves. It came down to a simple choice. Him, or us."

More restless murmurs swept through the courtyard, people quietly debating the merits of Rick's explanation, and Carrie could tell from their tone that they weren't comfortable with it.

"Are there any other questions?" he continued.

"Yes," Carol spoke up, raising her hand before awkwardly lowering it. "What now?"

"What now?"

Carol nodded, looking nervous. "How do we defend ourselves against these…Wolves?"

Recognising why Rick had made a point of looking at Carol, Carrie was amused by the meek and tentative way she acted. Carol wore her mask very well, and blended right in with the concerned Alexandrians…she served her role effectively. At the sound of her uncertainty and fear, others began looking restless and worried too, which was undoubtedly exactly what she wanted. She had taken people's judgement of Rick's actions and turned it around, making them scared of something other than him.

"How do we defend ourselves? Rick repeated the question. He paused, making sure that everyone was listening. "We start by making some changes around here. Changes that will be good for us. Changes that mean every single resident is capable of defending themselves, and their family if they are attacked. Don't think it's not going to happen, because it's not a matter of it, but when. These Wolves are not the only people out there that want to hurt us."

This remark sent a flurry of whispers around the crowded courtyard, and Carrie could see the moment regret crossed Rick's face, seeing the flickers of panic he had started.

"Those other people are in Ohio," someone called out. "They're too far away."

"They were only a problem on the supply run," someone else added.

As everyone began talking at once, the volume of the large group beginning to rise, Carrie waited for Rick to swiftly shut it down, but when he didn't she stepped in. "Everyone stop," she called out, her voice loud and firm. At once, the murmurs began to die down, everyone looking at her. "Just listen."

While everyone slowly fell silent, Rick gave her an appreciative nod before he began speaking again.

"The first thing we're making changes to, is the armoury. Today, two people left the walls without their guns, because Olivia wasn't around. Then when we had an emergency, I had to break the doors down to get what we needed. Now that is not Olivia's fault," he quickly clarified, seeing people glance in her direction. "That's the system's fault, not hers. We need access to our weapons at a moment's notice, but we can't expect Olivia to chain herself to the armoury twenty four hours a day. First thing tomorrow morning, the armoury is going to be moved. We're clearing out the rooms upstairs, we're going to install solid doors with combination locks. One room will have our general use weapons, the second and third rooms will have everything else. All rooms will have separate combinations, but only certain people will be able to access the second and third.

"The next problem we had today, was that it took too much time and noise to get everyone safely inside. We're going to practice emergency drills, so that if there's an emergency, everyone gets to where they need to be quickly and silently. The next change, is that all those who I deem necessary, are going to start carrying sidearms inside the walls. That is not negotiable," he said firmly, sharing a look with Deanna as everyone muttered uncomfortably. "That is necessary. If we come under attack, we won't get any notice. We need to defend ourselves immediately."

"Who will have guns?" Barbra loudly asked, sounding outraged. "Just your group, I suppose?"

"Anyone who I deem necessary. If you want permission to carry too, just say so. Who else has a problem with this?"

There was absolute silence.

"Good. Because starting nine o'clock tomorrow morning, anyone who is not fully competent to handle a basic firearm…their training is going to be non-stop until they are. Until everyone is fully competent, there is no more school, no more book club, no more work on the walls. That is not negotiable. Furthermore, all of the children are going to learn basic gun safety. How to handle a gun, how to pick it up safely, how to clear it," he continued, speaking over the top of everyone as they began protesting. "This is not negotiable," he said loudly.

"Deanna!" someone shouted, appealing to her for support. "He can't be serious."

"You can't force me to let my children start handling guns," Barbra said loudly, looking at Anna and Jessie for support. "They're our children, it's our decision."

As the protests continued, their volume and hysteria growing, Rick turned and looked at Deanna expectantly. Watching her, Carrie didn't have the patience to feel sorry for her, despite acknowledging that this loss of control must not be easy for their leader to accept.

"Enough," she said sharply, stepping forward and jutting her chin out. "I said, that's enough!"

For a small woman her commands sure did pack a punch. At the sound of her words, the protests began dying down, but it was clear the residents were not done with them, that they would not be so easily quietened.

"I told Rick he would have my unconditional support," Deanna declared, taking a deep breath now. "And he has it. What he says is going to happen."

"Why?" Barbara demanded loudly, looking at Rick. "Why are you bringing kids into this? They're too young for guns."

"Because a gun is more dangerous in the hands of someone who doesn't know how to use it, than it is in the hands of someone who does. That goes for children too. They have to know how to handle a gun safely, because sooner or later they're going to come across one. Especially given the emergency bags every house has already been given."

"They don't have guns in them," Erin remarked in concern.

"No," Rick agreed. "Right now, they have radios, batteries, flashlights, flares, knives, medical kits. Once our safety training is up to my standard, those bags are going to have handguns too."

"No!" Barbra insisted, her protest echoed by a few others.

"You're not putting guns in my house," Bruce said.

"Mine either," Michael agreed, shaking his head in disdain. "I'm not having a gun around Haley, no way."

"That's enough," Deanna shouted again, folding her arms across her chest and looking at everyone impatiently. "This is not up for discussion. This is what's going to happen."

The crowd started shifting, and while at first Carrie thought someone was trying to leave, she was glad to see someone coming forward. It was the guy who was married to Rosemary, the stocky guy with the buzz cut whose poor attempts at humour made him somewhat of a bore. Seeing him come forward, Carrie braced herself, hoping he would be supportive.

"Rick is right," he said calmly, allowing Carrie to breathe a sigh of relief. "It's safer for them if they know how to properly handle a firearm than to be clueless. It's for their own good." Ignoring Barbara's attempt to continue arguing, he looked over at Jessie and Pete now. "You should let Ron learn how to shoot too."

"You've brought up my next point, thank you," Rick said, he took looking at Jessie and Pete, and then at Nicholas and Paula. "Enid already knows how, but Ron and Mikey are going to learn how to fire a gun. They're old enough, and they should know how to defend themselves. They're safer knowing than not knowing. Then they're going to learn how to drive too. Same goes for the younger kids, especially Sam. If they're tall enough to reach the gas, they should know how to drive."

This news brought about a less protests than before, but Carrie took careful note of those it pertained to. Nicholas and Paula looked as though they had discussed this before, whereas Pete and Jessie looked particularly uncomfortable. In fact, Pete looked annoyed. He too noticing their discomfort, Rick made a point of keeping the discussion moving, not wanting anyone to dwell on one particular part for too long.

"Pete's going to be training more people in emergency care," he announced, though this seemed to come as a surprise to the man in question. Pete's expression soured even more. "Things like gunshot wounds, stab wounds, amputations - Yes, amputations," Rick continued as the uncomfortable murmurs started yet again. "If a person has been bitten or scratched on a limb, they still have a chance. If you do it quickly enough, and properly, you can save that person's life. The importance of that cannot be overlooked because some of you are squeamish."

"You talking from experience?"

Pete's enquiry was a thinly veiled challenge, one that put Carrie on edge. She'd seen the way Pete had reacted when Rick told him to stop treatment, and she'd seen firsthand the way he treated Denise.

"Yes," Rick answered, much to everyone's surprise. "Since the outbreak, I've seen three amputations, one of which I did myself. You should talk to Maggie. Ask her how much it meant that she got to keep her father for another few months because I wasn't too scared or squeamish to cut off his leg."

There was stunned silence, the entire courtyard looking at Rick in shock.

"His survival would have been sheer luck," Pete said lowly, clearly still disgruntled with him.

"Yes, I think it was," Rick agreed. "Imagine how the likelihood of his survival would increase if someone like you had trained us in the basics."

Looking at Pete, Carrie was waiting for him to argue, almost daring to. She had heard about what happened to Herschel, had heard the gratitude in Maggie's voice when she'd told Carrie how Rick had saved her father. She herself had been witness to hasty amputations during the outbreak, desperate attempts to save a person's life despite the risk of the procedure. Her groups had never been in a position where they were able to save the amputee, but they had always tried.

"So, everyone's going to have some medical training from Pete, and that includes Denise," Rick continued boldly, unintimidated as he looked Pete in the eye. "I saw with my own eyes that she's a perfectly competent doctor. Alexandria should benefit from you teaching her everything you know. I hope that's not going to be too much trouble for you, Pete?"

Playing it cool, Pete just shrugged and gave a charismatic smile. Yesterday Carrie might have fallen for that, having thought he was rather nice…today she knew better. She glanced over at Denise now, not surprised that she looked particularly miserable about this. Dwelling on it further, Carrie knew Denise was going to need some kind of third party around, a buffer to keep Pete from bullying her.

"The next thing will be our safe houses," Rick continued. "Given that we know these Wolves are in our area, it's important that everyone knows how to get to a safe house if they need to escape. We will do some runs over the next few days, we'll make sure that they're still safe and haven't been discovered. Once we know it's safe, we're going to take small groups of you on runs out to them. It'll cost us a lot of gas, but it will be worth it," Rick said, talking over the whispers that started growing again. "Again, this is not negotiable."

"I'm not going outside the walls," Rosemary said, sounding upset already. "I'm not good out there…I can't."

"You will be safe," Rick assured her. "You'll be with my group at all times. The important thing is that you know how to get to the safe houses, that you know the routes. We'll start our runs in vehicles to show you the roads, and then we'll make runs on foot."

Carrie sighed, this last remark sparking panicked outrage. Rick appeared to have expected this, and he patiently allowed everyone to worry, giving them the time they needed to process what he had told them.

"Can't you just make us a map?" Olivia asked, looking around as everyone voiced their support for this.

"No," Rick shook his head. "Absolutely not. I can't make you a map, and you can't make one either. There can be no maps that give any indication of where our safe houses are, or where Alexandria is. If a map like that fell into the wrong hands, we might as well roll out a welcome mat for people to come and attack us. That's why you have to know where the safe houses are."

"If there was an emergency," Erin began, trying to reason with him. "Then the people who set up the safe houses could take us there. There's no need for everyone to go outside the walls."

"What if we're not there?" Rick asked, challenging her remarks. "What if it's just you, Erin? What if you have people depending on you? Are you going to tell them that you don't know the way to safety, because you were too scared to let someone show you?"

There was silence, no one able to argue with this point, though Carrie suspected some of them would like to.

"Drives and hikes out to the safe houses won't come for a while," Rick continued, assuring them. "We've got to get everyone up to speed with weapons first. My group are good, but there's only so much dead weight we can take on when we leave the walls." Pausing, Rick took a deep breath. "That brings me to my next point, the Walkers. Roamers, Biters…whatever you call them."

"What about them?" someone from the back of the group asked.

"We're doing a good job at managing them. The pits and spikes are working well, and the watch tower takes down everything else the traps don't get. But I don't want anyone getting complacent about Walkers. Yes, we're managing their numbers, but there's never any way to tell what's coming for us next. We don't know how many there are in the areas around us, we don't know if there are any herds, or if any are building up in valleys."

"Valleys?"

"Sometimes they'll congregate in areas where the terrain leads them on a downward slope. If they're not following something, they take the path of least resistance. That's fine for us, Alexandria is fairly high up in regards to the terrain, but if something gets the attention of just one Walker in this type of herd, they'll start moving. We're trying to explore the areas around here as much as is safe, but we will never know a herd is coming for us, until it's coming."

"That's ridiculous," Shelly said rudely. "We've never had anything like that. I would know, alright? I've been here since the very start."

"Yes, and I can tell you have," Rick countered, unbothered by her rudeness.

"Well we've never had problems with a _herd_ ," she said, as though the very concept itself was mythical.

Rick nodded. "Good, I hope it stays that way. But the fact is, at one stage or another, every single one of you is going to come face to face with a Walker. It's not a matter of if you do, but when you do."

"That's not going to happen," someone argued. "The walls keep them out."

"The walls can be brought down," he continued. "No offence, Reg."

"No, they can't," someone else insisted. "They're buried in three feet of concrete, Roamers are not going to bring them down."

"Where are you going with this?" Bruce asked, speaking up again. "If your traps are so effective, why are you worried about Walkers?"

Rick hesitated, and suddenly Carrie knew what he was about to say. She braced herself, knowing that it would not be well received.

"Just because you're safe now, doesn't mean you always will be. Anything could happen," he insisted. "A tree could fall and bring down a section of the wall, a major storm could muster up a herd. Anything could happen, and we won't have any warning for it. What I'm getting at…is that you're going to learn how to take them on, hand to hand."

The Alexandrians' outrage was swift immediate, everyone loudly refuting this and shaking their heads. Before any of them could contain it an argument broke out, and everyone kept looking to Deanna and Reg, expecting their support. Carrie had to admit that this was the very first time she'd ever seen Deanna struggle to keep her poker face. Her unconditional support for Rick was definitely beginning to waver, and Reg's too. Watching them, Carrie hoped that Deanna could stay strong, they she would remember the difference between appeasing and placating her people, and being the leader they needed.

"Do not leave," Rick said loudly, seeing someone at the back trying to slip out. "I have not told you that you can leave."

Not to Carrie's surprise, it was Shelly who was trying to leave, always being a pain in the ass about something. While Rick told everyone that they were not finished there, Carrie had to admire his patience. He was coming across well, he was answering questions, taking the time to explain things. Despite the resistance shown, the meeting was going well so far. If he kept this up, he might just get through to them.

"The meeting is not over," Deanna said in support of Rick. "Stay, please. There is still much to discuss."

The protesting continued, but Deanna did not back down, and she called for silence again.

"You're talking like we're going to have Roamers in here at any minute," Shelly shouted angrily, everyone else's arguments dying down.

"We could," Rick insisted, unperturbed by their anger. "I know you've had them in here before. I know they've come in through the old sewer system, and I know the gate's been left open by accident. Oh yeah," he nodded, looking around at them all. "I bet most of you didn't know that happened a few months ago. You also probably didn't know two Walkers got inside that day."

This remark once again aroused uncomfortable murmurs from the community, but Rick continued nonetheless, not letting it escalate.

"What I'm saying, is that it's going to happen. One way or another."

"No, it's not," Bruce insisted vehemently.

"It's not?" Rick questioned.

"No! Biter's are not getting in here!"

"You're just putting us in danger!" Shelly said loudly, Barbara echoing her support. "Forcing us to try and kill them would only put us at risk."

To Carrie's surprise, Rick looked over in her direction, but it was Abraham he made eye contact with. He gave a subtle nod, one that would have been imperceptible to anyone not watching him closely. Reaching down between them, Abraham nudged Rosita and then stood up, clapping Carrie on the shoulder as the two of them began to leave.

"Well, it was nice while it lasted," he muttered quietly, moving past her.

"What are you doing?" she enquired, wondering if this had anything to do with their earlier discussion with Rick. "What's going on?"

"Just sit tight," Abraham told her, turning back at the last moment and holding out his can of beer. "Oh, here…you'd better finish this."

Hiding her frustration, Carrie set the beer aside and watched as he and Rosita left, and amidst all the arguing none of the Alexandrian's seemed to notice their departure. She on the other hand was paying careful attention, noting the way Abraham paused to speak to Rick, the way Carol and Glenn seemed to be bracing themselves, standing at attention. Wanting answers, Carrie looked up at Michonne, annoyed when she simply gave her the same type of nod Rick had given. Before she could actually ask, Michonne was nudging Carl, raising her eyebrows when she caught him reaching for Abraham's beer through the terrace railing.

"Chill out. I'm just putting it on the table."

Turning her attention back to the meeting, Carrie sighed in frustration, wondering how long Rick was going to let them argue. Up until now he'd managed to keep the meeting controlled overall, and although he probably thought it was good to let them voice their fears, Carrie knew otherwise. He needed to nip this panic in the bud before it turned into hysteria. Standing patiently with his arms folded, it appeared he was listening to the arguments and frustration, taking it all in. A few moments later she realised he had been looking at her, and so she swiftly drew her finger across her throat, telling him to wrap it up.

"Alright, that's enough," he said, unfolding his arms and raising one hand a little. "Everyone calm down and listen," he asked, Deanna echoing his request.

"Why should we?" Barbara asked loudly. "You're not even listening to us!"

"Actually, I am. I'm listening to every word you say, and I understand where you're coming from. Yes, I do," he insisted when people seemed incredulous. "So hear me out. I know I'm making you face a lot of changes, but I'm not Deanna. My job is not to make you happy and content, my job is to make you safe. Have we got that much clear? My job is not to make you happy."

"Yeah, you got that right," someone shouted.

"Problem is, we're too big, and in too much danger for my group to protect you all. If something goes wrong, we're not going to be able to protect everyone. You've got to be able to protect yourself and your families from any threat, whether that comes from people attacking you, or Walkers."

"Look, I can understand the gun training, fine!" Carter said. "But the Walkers? No, there's no point. You'd just be endangering people for no reason."

As the murmurs of support and agreement began again, Rick held up his hand for silence. "How do you think I'd teach you? Do you think I'd just take you out there and let you face them alone?" he asked, looking out at everyone. He was met with silence, no one knowing how to answer. "No. That's now how you teach someone to kill Walkers. I'm not going to teach you how to swim by pushing you into a pool and hoping you figure out how to float. I'd be right beside you from the get go, helping you, protecting you…showing you how to handle yourself safely."

Michonne spoke up now. "You're more afraid of the thought of it than you are of the reality."

Rick nodded in agreement. "Michonne's right, and I understand that you're scared. I used to be scared too…we all did. Glenn? When you and I first met, how many of us would go running off with every weapon we could carry, just to take care of one Walker?"

Glenn smiled in amusement. "Four or five."

"And how panicked would we be?"

"We were usually shitting ourselves."

"Yeah, we were scared," Rick admitted, looking at everyone before turning back to her. "Right now you're all panicked over being taught how to kill Walkers in a controlled situation…your panic is your worst enemy. Your panic makes you just as dangerous to yourselves as Walkers are. That's what we want to change. We want you to be confident. Confident to handle yourself with a gun and a knife, against any threat. I know what I'm asking is scary, but I don't think that's too much to ask."

"Rick," Heath began, awkwardly raising his hand and making himself known. "I understand where you're coming from…but I think you're going too far. There's enough of us who know what we're doing," he continued, gesturing to himself, and then to Scott and a few others. "You're right though, we've gotta be on high alert. We were planning on another run up north, but we'll put that off for a few weeks, alright? We'll stay a while, make sure things settle down."

"I appreciate the offer, I do, but having three of you stay for a couple of weeks more is not enough. Everyone has to be able to protect themselves, that's all there is to it."

"What you're asking is completely unnecessary," Carter insisted.

"Completely unnecessary?" Rick asked before glancing over his shoulder, peering out to the road behind them.

"Yes!"

"Carter's right," Shelly said supportively. "There's no need for any of us to do things like that."

Barbara spoke up next. "Deanna, surely you can't support this?" she asked, putting her on the spot.

Torn between her promise to Rick and her own reservations, Deanna did not reply. She looked at Reg, calling on him for support, for guidance.

"Deanna!" someone else shouted. "Come on, do something!"

Before she could even open her mouth, Rick intervened. "We can talk about this into the night, but the fact is, this is going to happen. No amount of protest and refusal is going to get you out of this, because it's for your own good. I've been back from the Georgia supply run six weeks now, and I've been trying to give you time to do this slowly. I've been patient, I've been understanding, but we're out of time now. This has to happen."

Hearing the sound of the dog barking madly, Carrie glanced up towards Betsy's house, knowing Barney belonged to her. She'd seen Betsy lock him inside the house earlier, and so she wondered what had gotten his attention. Carl seemed to have noticed too, and from the terrace he stood on his toes and looked out across Alexandria, giving a long sigh before leaning back against the railing.

"Well, shit," he muttered glumly.

"What?" she asked.

Carl didn't answer, and Michonne was avoiding Carrie's eyes. Getting the feeling that this was what Rick had been keeping from her, she turned back to him, seeing he was looking over his shoulder again. He shifted his weight on his feet before calling for quiet again, settling down the murmured protests that had started when he stopped talking.

"Bruce? You said a Walker is never getting inside the walls?"

Bruce frowned, surprised he was being called on so directly. "Yes."

"Do you stand by that?"

"Yes," he said with a little more passion.

"Who else?" Rick asked loudly, gesturing out to everyone. "Who else stands by that? No Walkers are ever getting in here. No way at all."

There was a resounding chorus of agreement, everyone looking to each other and nodding. Rick seemed to take their opposition in his stride, and his patience never faltered. Still calm and level headed, he simply nodded and then waved his hand, gesturing that people should come with him.

"I want to show you something…a demonstration of some kind."

"What is it?" Rosemary asked warily.

Carrie scoffed to herself, suspecting what Rosemary was thinking. Whatever it was Rick had planned, he sure as hell wasn't going to throw at Walker at them. But it seemed Rosemary wasn't the only nervous one, a few more voicing concerns before they reluctantly began following Rick out of the courtyard and up towards the front of the infirmary. Seated on the stairs, she patiently waited for the mass of people to clear out before standing up. If Manhattan had taught her one thing, it was not to get caught up in a surging crowd. Just as she stood to go down, Michonne stopped her as she went past.

"Carol wants to talk to you," she said, gesturing to her on the other side of the courtyard where she was waiting.

"Why?" she asked increasingly impatient.

Michonne didn't answer, leaving Carrie annoyed and frustrated. Trying to be cooperative, she joined Carol downstairs, looking at her expectantly. Was now really the time for them to talk? They fell into step beside one another, and she waited impatiently for Carol to begin. As they followed the stragglers out of the courtyard and up the road past the infirmary, Carol began to speak.

"Rick has kept you in the dark on purpose," she muttered quietly. Though her tone was low, she still maintained a pleasant outward appearance.

Gritting her teeth, Carrie asked, "Why?"

"Because there's going to be a major falling out from what happens next. You and I have to be above reproach. Do you understand?"

"For fuck's sake," she muttered under her breath, her choice of language uncharacteristic. "What the hell is his problem? Doesn't he trust me?"

"Once you get over the initial shock, y-"

"Shock?" she questioned abruptly, starting to get worried. "Shock from what?"

"…your instinct will be to support him," Carol continued whispering. "But there's a long term play here. It's more important for you and I to maintain the relationships we have with these people. This will work better if you're genuinely upset."

"Could you tell me what the fuck is going on, please?"

Carol shook her head, the two of them joining the rest of the community in front of Aaron and Eric's house. "He's doing what he has to. What he should have done a long time ago."

"What does that mean?" she hissed.

Carol didn't answer this time, her refusal to explain compounding Carrie's frustration. They were congregating in front of the houses that overlooked the lake, spreading out as Michonne ushered them into a semi circle formation. Rick stood in front of them with his back to the lake, fielding concerned enquiries from Deanna as to what he was doing now. He glanced to his left and right, and following his gaze Carrie noted that Noah stood in the middle of the street down one way, and that Glenn stood in the middle of the street the other way, the two of them acting like a barrier to keep everyone in one place.

With no choice other than to wait patiently, she looked at Rick while she folded her arms. When he returned her gaze she tried to figure out what he was thinking, surprised that he was looking at her with a little apprehension. While before she had felt badly for the way she avoided him, right now she didn't hide her frustration with him…why would he leave her out of whatever he was doing now? What had he planned that was so bad he was worried about the fall out? Before she could ponder if any further, panicked screams broke out on her left, and in a great rush people started moving back in her direction. Feeling a surge of adrenaline her hand drifted to the handle of her Ruger, having been carrying it that afternoon at Rick's request.

She didn't even have time to ask what was going on. As people began backing away, their panicked screams growing in volume, she turned back in the direction of the townhouses, and her heart sank when she saw exactly what it was Rick intended to demonstrate. While the crowd parted and Deanna began shouting furiously at Rick, Carrie gasped in horror at what he had to show the people.

It was a Walker.

* * *

A/N Hope you enjoyed! Please leave me a review, I so love to read your feedback!


	20. Chapter 20

Fifteen minutes into the community meeting, Rick knew that he wasn't getting through to people. They had protested and argued against all the points he had expected them to, and though the meeting had progressed through all the topics he needed them to get through, he knew that it wasn't enough. Despite everything he had told them they still didn't understand the danger they were in, they didn't have the capacity or experiences to understand that what he was telling them was real. For too long Deanna had allowed them to bury their heads in the sand, making it more and more difficult for them to see the truth when he tried to enlighten them. He was going to have to do something drastic, something he had genuinely hoped to avoid…but it seemed there was no other option.

"You're talking like we're going to have Roamers in here at any minute," Shelly shouted angrily.

"We could," Rick insisted, unperturbed by their anger. "I know you've had them in here before. I know they've come in through the old sewer system, and I know the gate's been left open by accident. Oh yeah," he nodded, looking around at them all. "I bet most of you didn't know that happened a few months ago. You also probably didn't know two Walkers got inside that day."

This remark once again aroused uncomfortable murmurs from the community, but Rick continued nonetheless, not letting it escalate.

"What I'm saying, is that it's going to happen. One way or another."

"No, it's not," Bruce insisted vehemently.

"It's not?" Rick questioned.

"No! Walker's are not getting in here!"

"You're just putting us in danger!" Shelly said loudly, Barbara echoing her support. "Forcing us to try and kill them would only put us at risk."

Reaching his decision, Rick looked to his right and made eye contact with Abraham, giving him an almost imperceptible nod. Knowing what he wanted, Abraham sighed as he and Rosita stood up and began to leave. As they moved past her, Carrie whispered something to them, likely asking what the hell was going on. Abraham told her something, but handed her his beer and promptly left, forced to ignore her frustrated expression.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" Abraham asked quietly. "It could turn ugly."

For once, Rick was absolutely sure. Bringing a Walker in here was going to destroy the trust he and his group had been working to build, but it was the only method he could see that would make the Alexandrian's stop and listen. With a Walker by his side, he would have their full and undivided attention, not to mention he would make his point.

"It's about to turn ugly anyway," he muttered, looking at everyone.

Faced with a group of people who had the potential to turn into an angry mob, Rick acted accordingly. Buying himself some time, he allowed the Alexandrian's to speak and voice their concerns, to get everything off their chests. He knew the information to be gained was valuable. The more he knew about what they were thinking, the better he would be able to handle them.

Glancing over at Carrie, he felt terrible guilt for what he was about to do, for the fact that he had intentionally excluded her from his plans. It wasn't that he didn't trust her to keep his plan a secret, but that he needed to think about the bigger picture. What he was doing was going to burn bridges, but he didn't have to burn absolutely every one. Carrie had worked so hard over the last six weeks to gain people's trust, to forge relationships…if people thought she was in on this with Rick, they'd never trust her again, and it was essential that they trust her. Carol's cover did not have to be blown, and nor did Carrie's, though hers was less of a disguise. If she and Carol could remain innocent and unsuspecting parties to what Rick was about to do, they would still be able to maintain the relationships they had forged. But they would have to be completely innocent parties, and though he knew Carol's poker face was strong, he wasn't so sure about Carrie's. If this was going to work, if he was going to keep her out of the firing line, then he'd genuinely have to keep her out of this.

Then there was the concern that Carrie might be able to talk him out of this plan, that she'd plead the case for continued patience and understanding. That was the fundamental difference between the two of them, the difference that Rick knew was going to lead to one hell of argument later today. Carrie had patience with these people, she had more capacity to tolerate and forgive their ignorance…Rick did not. He'd seen too much, and he could see the danger his family was in. While ever the Alexandrians were dead weight, his family was at greater risk, and that included Carrie too.

Nevertheless, this didn't mitigate the feeling that he was betraying her by intentionally keeping her in the dark…she wasn't going to be happy with him doing this to her.

Carrie suddenly realised the was the subject of his gaze, and she sat up a little straighter and drew her finger across her throat. Her instruction to start wrapping things up was clear, and though he was only half following it, he called the meeting back to attention. Carrie certainly was more of a people person than him…if she said to wrap things up, he'd listen. Taking control of the conversation again, he laid out a few harsh truths to everyone, reminding them that he was not there to make them happy, but to make them safe. He tried to maintain a good balance of harsh and understanding, and he reminded them all that he had been in their position before, that he too had been scared once.

Hearing Betsy's dog begin to bark, he knew Abraham and Rosita must be ready, and on instinct he looked over his shoulder out to the road. Seeing Rosita standing across the road, she gave him a quick thumbs up before leaving, affirming that they were in position and ready to go.

"Bruce?" he began, wanting to get things moving. "You said a Walker is never getting inside the walls?"

Bruce frowned, surprised he was being called on so directly. "Yes."

"Do you stand by that?"

"Yes," he said with a little more passion.

"Who else?" Rick asked loudly, gesturing out to everyone. "Who else stands by that? No Walkers are ever getting in here. No way at all."

There was a resounding chorus of agreement, everyone looking to each other and nodding. "I want to show you something…a demonstration of some kind," he told them, indicating that they should follow him outside the courtyard.

"What is it?" Rosemary asked warily.

A few others began voicing concerns, and though he had to admit they had reason to be concerned, he quickly assured everyone that it was safe, not exactly lying. Though they were sure to disagree, to him this was a completely controlled situation, and no one was in danger. Leading everyone out onto the road, he let them congregate outside Aaron and Eric's house and noted that Glenn and Noah took their positions at both ends of the road, ready to muster people and keep them there. They were sure to scatter and try to run, and so it was up to Glenn and Noah to convince them to stay and watch, even if only at a distance.

As he waited, he glanced over at Carrie, wondering how badly she was going to react. He knew Carrie well, and he knew that her instincts would be to support his cause regardless of whether she agreed with it, but that's not how they wanted to play this. Thankfully she was standing with Carol, who had no doubt given her some kind of indication as to how she should handle herself. Catching his gaze Carrie looked at him apprehensively, and he wished he could figure out what she was thinking. He thought back to that afternoon, to the way he had hidden on the roof smoking rather than facing her. They should have cleared the air…he should have done many things differently.

There was no time for him to dwell on this though, for a moment later Abraham and Rosita appeared from the side of one of the houses, holding the Walker out in front of them. Seeing it, the Alexandrians scattered predictably, screaming in horror at the Walker and at Rick, for though it was Abraham who had a Walker on a stick, they knew who was responsible for bringing it in here. Standing back, Rick let his people do their jobs, Glenn and Noah rounding people up as they tried to leave, while Michonne sought to calm them, to reassure everyone that they were safe, despite all evidence they saw to the contrary. He watched Carrie closely, glad to see that she looked suitably shocked by what was happening…her shock would protect her from the influx of hatred that was already starting.

"No one is leaving," Rick said loudly, making himself heard over the commotion that was slowly beginning to die down. At the sound of his voice, the Alexandrians turned their anger back on him, but he patiently ignored all of what was said, knowing it was a necessary part of getting through this. "No one is leaving until we're done."

"Deanna!" someone shouted at her. "Why aren't you stopping him?"

Deanna's furious reaction was expected, particularly given the perceived unreasonableness of what he was doing. But now the shock had worn off she appeared to be staying strong, and she seemed to recognise that although it was frightening, it was a controlled situation. Rick and his group had this Walker completely under control, and with that understanding she didn't immediately withdraw her support.

"Let Rick speak," she said, her voice calm and measured despite her obvious discomfort with the situation.

Waiting, Rick looked around and made sure that there was no one who had left, getting nods of approval from Glenn and Noah who were manning each end of the road. As he expected them to, the Alexandrian's were giving the Walker a wide berth, having moved backwards up onto the sidewalk and Aaron's front porch. People were shielding one another as though the Walker was going to break free at any moment, as though Abraham and Rosita hadn't carefully chosen this particular Walker for their task. Glancing at it out of habit, Rick was pleased to see that not only was their contraption holding up, the metal pole and tether similar to the one Hershel had first used on his farm, but the Walker's body was too. Fresher than most, the decomposition hadn't progressed too far, and there was little risk of it falling apart from the force of its movements. It strained against the chain wound around it's neck and underneath one shoulder, its arms flailing about as it looked this way and that, trying to decide where it was going, but hindered by Abraham's strong grip.

"You two got this?" he asked Abraham and Rosita.

Clad in thick gloves and heavy sleeved jackets, they would be well protected if something did go wrong. It was unusual that they go to lengths like this to protect themselves against one Walker, but it was essential they show the Alexandrians how serious they were about making this safe.

"We got this," Rosita assured him. Standing closest to the Walker and armed with a knife and machete, she was both the Walker's guard and easiest target.

"Alright, everybody shut up," he began bluntly, no longer being patient and understanding. "No one is leaving, so the sooner we get this over with, the sooner you can all go home. Is that clear?"

"You're fucking crazy," Jeffrey started in outrage.

Heath echoed this, getting fired up for the first time since Rick had met him. "He's right, you are crazy. You can't force this on people! You can't force them to fight!"

"Yes, I can."

"We aren't your prisoners," Carter yelled. "We don't have to do what you say!"

"No, you don't," Rick agreed, though on the inside he strongly disagreed. "But you should. You should do what I say, because I'm protecting you. I'm acting in your best interests, even though you don't see it."

"That's bullshit!"

"You think I want to do this?" he questioned angrily. "You think this is how I want to spend my Friday afternoon? I've got better things to do, I want to hang out with my kids. What I don't want to do is stand here and deal with this shit, just because you can't see that I'm trying to help you!"

"You call this help? Throwing a Walker at us?"

Rick frowned, making a point of turning and looking at it. "I haven't thrown a Walker at anyone." He turned back to them. "I'll be honest, the thought has crossed my mind…and yet there it is. Safely restrained, ready to be taken down at a moment's notice." Pausing, he let this sink in, giving the people a moment to actually look. "Now are we done with hysteria, or do we need to argue some more?"

"We're far from done!" Bruce shouted, coming forward. "This is not happening, no way!"

"But I was right, wasn't I?" Rick asked him, stepping towards him and looking him in the eye. "You said a Walker would never get inside the walls, and I said that it would."

Bruce spluttered in outrage, looking between Rick and the Walker. "You brought it in here!"

"Yes."

"Well tha-…that's not fair!"

"No, it's not! But there it is, Bruce! There's the Walker that you said would never get inside the walls. So what are you going to do about it?"

There was a slight scuffle, Shelly shoving her way to the front of the crowd. "You brought it in," she shouted loudly, getting echoes of support. "Your group did this, not us!"

"Yes, we've covered that," he said impatiently. "I brought it in here. I did this to you."

"Well that's not fair!" she shouted again, her face turning red.

Rick looked at them all in disbelief. "You keep saying that. You've said twice now that this isn't fair."

"Well it's not!"

"Then let me enlighten you!" he snapped, beginning to shout now. "Because it seems to have escaped your attention, that life isn't fair! Is that clear to you? Life isn't fair! Someone you trusted has put you in this position. Someone you trusted has forced your hand. Now what are you going to do about it?"

To his great surprise, there was almost silence now. Aside from the snarling and snapping teeth of the Walker, and the sound of Rosemary crying up on Aaron's porch, barely a sound could be heard. He took a moment to glance at Carrie, seeing her stony expression and finding no relief in it. She was furious with him, a good thing considering the reputation she needed to uphold, but it was rather disappointing to see. But now was not the time to worry about Carrie, and so he forced himself to continue.

"The walls do not have to come down, for a Walker to be inside them. Sometimes, the danger will come from inside the walls where you thought you were safe. Sometimes, the danger will be in the form of someone you trusted, someone you loved. There won't be a warning, and it sure as hell won't be fair. Fair does not exist anymore, so stop saying this isn't fair!"

"Rick," Heath began slowly, having settled his immediate anger. "I understand what you're doing. But you don't have to do it like this."

"Yes, I do. And I'm sorry that I do," he said sincerely, settling his tone a little. "I tried to do things your way, to take things slowly and at your pace. I took a step back, I let others manage the supply run, I've let others manage the watch shifts and talk to you about the gun training. I want to do things at a pace you're comfortable with, but we don't have the time anymore. Time is a luxury, and we don't have enough of it. It's got to be now! That's why I'm doing it like this, that's why I'm springing this on you."

"It's unnecessary," Kent spoke up. "There are enough of us to protect everyone."

"Kent, is it? Great, hang on to that thought for me. Can we for a moment, just admit that something catastrophic could happen to us here? It takes one unexpected death inside these walls to start an all out massacre. What if someone died in the middle of the night? How many times have my group told you to close your bedroom doors while you sleep, and how many of you actually do?"

Rick took pause, watching the way discomfort crossed the people's faces as they considered his question.

"That's what I thought," he remarked in disappointment. "Not locking our cells was a huge mistake my group made at the prison, a mistake that cost over a dozen lives. A young boy died in the middle of the night, and by morning we had a blood bath in D Block. With what happened in the following days, we didn't even have time to clean up the mess before we had twenty people firing at us and a god damn tearing down our fences. We were unprepared to handle that, and in minutes we lost everything we'd built."

"But there are enough of us," Kent insisted. "We don't need to train everyone against Roamers, not when it's so risky."

"Maybe in theory there are enough!" he agreed. "But what are you going to do when the shit hits the fan? You're not going to be able to protect everyone! You can't be everywhere at once, none of us can. You have to take responsibility for protecting yourself, because you might not be able to depend on others. Take Carol for example."

There were surprised murmurs at this remark, and for a brief moment people tore their eyes off the Walker and looked over at Carol.

"Carol has taken responsibility for protecting herself, she can manage perfectly fine without us. Why do you think I trust her with my children? She can handle a gun safely, and she use a knife and machete. When we lost the prison, she was completely on her own, and she handled it. Then she found Sasha's brother and Judith." Once again there were murmurs of surprise. "Could you imagine being in the middle of woods filled with Walkers, with a crying baby and only one other person to depend on? And yet Carol did it. She knew enough to protect herself, and to protect my daughter. Which of you could do that?"

There was stunned silence, broken only by the sounds the Walker made. Looking around, Rick made eye contact with Carl and then gestured for him to come closer. Though he was pleased his son was behaving himself by keeping his distance, he needed him right now.

"Kent," he began patiently. "Imagine for me that there's a Walker coming straight at you, but you've got no way of protecting yourself. Who is it that you want to come through the door to help you? Do you want Carl? Or do you want someone like Sturgess?" There was an uncomfortable pause. "This is not a rhetorical question. Who do you want to come to your rescue? Sturgess, or Carl?"

Taking a look at the both his options, and then a long look at the Walker, Kent reluctantly answered, "Carl."

Rick nodded, and then looked out at everyone else. "Someone please tell me, what's wrong with that answer?" His question was met with silence, and so he answered for them. "Why should you be depending on a fourteen year old? Isn't there something wrong with that? Why should Carl have to protect anyone? We should be protecting him!"

He was met with more silence, but he could tell by the fleeting looks that crossed some faces that he had made his point, that what he had said was not without impact. Building on this, he sought to make another point, and so continued, singling out someone he knew he could get through to.

"Anna," Rick started, looking to her now. "You're Hayley's mom, right?"

She looked started to have been called upon, and actually looked at her husband, Michael, before she nodded her head.

"Imagine you're out there," he said, gesturing to the walls. "You're out there with Hayley, and she needs you to protect her. You've got a Walker coming at you from the right, and one coming from the left, and one coming from behind…what do you do?"

"I…I don't know," she said quietly.

"You've got to do something," he insisted, not caring that she looked rather upset by his line of questioning. "Hayley's depending on you, so you can't do nothing. No, don't look at Michael," he told her sharply. "He's not there to help you."

"Where is he?" she asked.

Rick shrugged. "The hell if you know. All you know, it's that its just you and Hayley. So what do you do? How do you protect her?"

There was a long pause, and she shifted uncomfortably. He could see her working through the scene in her head, but still coming up with nothing. "I don't know," she repeated, her voice hushed.

"Then don't you think I should teach you?" he asked her emphatically. Not wanting to put too much pressure on her, he looked at everyone else. "Shouldn't you want me to teach you?" Wondering if this would sink in at all, he looked over at the Walker, seeing Abraham and Rosita changing places so he could take a break. "Why do you think I brought this Walker in here?"

No one answered, everyone looking at the Walker or trying to avoid eye contact.

"It's not a rhetorical question!" he shouted, though he lowered his voice when he spoke again. "Why do you think I brought this Walker in here?"

"To scare us," Jessie finally answered, speaking for the first time. She and Ron stood shielded behind Pete, and like everyone else they looked as though they were going to flee at any moment.

"Yes," he confirmed. "I brought it here to scare you, because you should be scared of this thing! You don't understand it, and we're naturally afraid of things we don't understand. That's the problem here. But it doesn't have to be like that. You don't have to be so afraid."

"Easy for you to say!" Kent snapped angrily. "You're not scared of them at all!"

"That's not true, I'm scared as hell of Walkers," he confessed. "All of my group are, and if you find anyone who says differently, they're lying. But we're better equipped to handle that fear, that's the only difference. We understand them, we know how they work and how to protect ourselves. That's why I want to teach you these things. I want to teach you how to take these down, how to outrun them, how to hide from them…I want to teach you how to walk straight through an entire herd of them!"

"That's not necessary," Barbara snapped at him, her arms folded defensively. "We don't need to learn _those things_ , we're safe in here."

"No, you're not," he said bluntly. "And the delusion that you are is only putting you in more danger."

"You're the one who's delusional!" Kent shouted angrily. "I know you've seen sick shit out there man, but that's not in here!"

"You're right, it's not," Rick agreed vehemently. "But while we're in here, the world outside wants to get in at any cost. The world outside doesn't care about playing fair, or whether or not you're ready. Walkers and other people don't care that there are children and elderly here, they don't care that we're good. The people out there want what we have, and they don't care how many of us they have to kill to get it. The same goes of the Walkers, and sooner or later they're going to get in. Whether or not you believe any of that is true, all I'm asking is that you learn how to protect yourself if it did happen.

"Some of you can protect yourselves," he continued loudly, making sure he had everyone's attention. "Some of you can even protect each other, but those people can't be everywhere at once, and neither can my group. So those of you who can't protect yourself…you're probably going to die. Your kids will probably die too, because the rest of us might not be there. Now there's a Walker inside these walls," he reminded them, gesturing to it. "It doesn't matter that I'm the one who brought it in here…what matters is how you're going to handle it when you're the only one who can." He paused, hoping to let this sink in. "So, who's going to handle this?"

"I will," Tobin volunteered instantly, already stepping forward.

Rick turned him down. "No. I want someone else. Someone who needs to learn how to do this, someone that I need to teach. Who's it going to be?"

There was an immediate flurry of refusal, arms folded across chests as people backed away even further. Looking around, Rick watched as his people gave gentle encouragement, reassuring everyone that they would be fine. It wasn't enough though, not that he had expected it to be.

"Come on, who's stepping up? Who's taking responsibility for their family?" he asked. "Barbara, don't you want to take every opportunity to make sure you're capable of protecting your kids? Erin?"

He felt a hand being placed on his elbow. "Rick?" Deanna began. "I'll do it."

Appreciative of her support, Rick thanked her, even though he knew her volunteering was not going to be upheld. There was immediate uproar, everyone feeling intensely protective of their leader, everyone automatically arguing, telling Deanna not to do it. Her family too had similar reactions, Aidan putting his hand on his mother's shoulder, the simple shake of his head indicating that regardless of her authority, she wasn't going to do this. Being patient, Rick looked around at the rest of the community, knowing that at any second the right volunteer was going to step forward. All he had to do was wait, and as he did so he looked to Carrie for a moment, his confidence in the situation taking another blow thanks to her. She caught his gaze, and though her expression was plain, her furious eyes said it all. As he looked at her, he wondered hopefully if that was just her doing what Carol had asked, maintaining the narrative that she was an uninvolved and innocent party to what was going on? Or, was she genuinely furious with him? He could only hope that she'd listen long enough for him to explain the choices he had made.

Before he could worry about this any longer, the volunteer he had been waiting for came forward, the crowd of residents parting. While she all but pushed her way towards the front, Anna was arguing with Michael as she came forward. When he tried to grab her, his face alight with panic for what she was doing, she wrenched her arm out of his grasp and snapped at him angrily.

"I'll do it," she said loudly, looking at Rick and volunteering before Michael could try again to stop her.

Though she wasn't been the volunteer Rick had been expecting, having always thought Anna to be rather meek and timid, he welcomed her forward nonetheless. He waited patiently while Michael argued with her again, everyone else telling her not to do it, but Anna stood her ground. What he had gained from her before, the admission that she wouldn't know how to protect Hayley if something went wrong, it must have sunk in for her. Leaving Michael behind, Anna came over tentatively, giving the Walker a very wide berth as she approached Rick. He noted that she was shaking, her jaw quivering as tears streamed down her face. In spite of her courage and bravado, she was terrified of what she was doing, barely holding herself together, and yet she showed no sign of backing down. Taking this all into account, Rick gave her a nod of encouragement, knowing he was going to have to take this slowly.

"I'm going to help you through this, okay?" he assured her gently, glad when she looked him in the eye and nodded. She ignored the rest of the community as they kept shouting at her, trying to appeal to her sense of reason.

"What do I do?" she asked, her voice heavy with fear. She was looking at the Walker apprehensively, her eyes wide with intimidation.

"You start by protecting yourself," he began, passing her the heavy jacket he had taken from the pantry. She trembled as she slipped it on, fumbling to do up the zip as she constantly kept looking up at the Walker. As he helped her roll up the sleeves before checking the size of her hand, Rick spoke to her quietly, reminding himself to be patient and understanding. "Everything's going to fine, alright? I'm with you."

"Thanks," she muttered, still trying to ignore everyone else.

Michael came over now, making a last minute attempt to change her mind, but Anna refused to hear of it. In a moment that almost passed undetected, Rick saw her glancing over towards Carrie, looking to her for support and encouragement. He too following her gaze, he observed Carrie giving a reassuring nod, a tentative smile telling Anna that she would be safe, that she could do this. It was in that moment that Rick was absolutely certain that he had done the right thing by excluding Carrie from this plan…she needed to maintain the relationships she had developed with the Alexandrians, that was essential to everyone's adaptation.

"How does that feel?" he asked Anna, handing her a knife.

Taking a large breath to steady herself, she wrapped her fingers around the handle and gripped it tightly. "It's fine."

"Not too big, not too small?" he checked, handing her some heavy duty gloves next. Satisfied with her gear, he pulled on his own gloves before looking at the Walker, seeing Abraham taking over on the pole again. "Rosita, get ready to take one arm, Michonne, you'll take the other. We're going to make this as easy as possible for you," he told Anna.

Putting his hand on her shoulder, he led her a few steps closer to the Walker, encouraging her to take a proper look at it. He didn't push her to go too close, knowing how frightened she must be to be facing a Walker, particularly one that was reaching for her and snapping it's jaws, snarling eagerly.

"Where do you stab a Walker?" he asked the rest of the community, annoyed when he was met with silence. "Where do you stab a Walker?"

"The head," Michael said in exasperation, still hovering close to Anna.

"Yes, the head. Where in the head?" he asked again, gesturing to the Walker. "This one's fresh. It's still got its face, its eyes…it a skin bag full of organs, and that means its skull is not going to be easy to penetrate with a blade, even if you're strong. If a Walker is decayed and falling apart, you can go straight for the skull. But if it's a fresh one like this, what do you do? How do you stab it?"

"Through the eye," someone answered after a short pause.

"Yes, through the eye socket. Where else?"

"The jaw," Tobin said.

"Perfect. Don't forget, that includes anywhere under the jaw," he told them, running his finger underneath his own jaw from ear to ear. "But if you're going to go directly under the front, not only do you want to watch you don't cut yourself on it's teeth, you want to make sure you're using a longer blade. A pocket knife might not penetrate deep enough if you go under the jaw. Where else?"

This time it was Kent, his answer coming abruptly and with disdain. "Ear."

"Perfect. For the ear, the length of the blade matters less. What matters with the ear is the width of the blade, and how you're holding it. Ideally, you want a narrower blade, something like an ice pick would be best. If you're using a knife, you've got to hold the blade horizontal to give yourself the best chance of getting it through that particular section of the skull." Pausing, he took Anna's hand with the knife and held it up, showing them the way they ought to use it. "If you're going for this type of stab, you keep the knife horizontal, and you stab straight into the ear canal." He let go of Anna's hand, noting that she was still rather shaky. "Where else? Come on, where else?"

"The back of the neck," Glenn answered when no one else spoke up.

"Thank you. The back of the neck, beneath the base of the skull with your knife angled up and into the brain. That's probably the easiest, because you can keep your hands further away from the mouth, and you can attack from behind."

Looking to Rosita and Michonne, he gave them the signal to step forward, and protected by their gloves, they darted forward and grabbed the Walkers hands, pulling them out of the way. At his request, Glenn came forward and stood close by, his gun drawn and held by his side.

"Watch your crossfire," he reminded him, his mind automatically seeing all the angles and collateral damage they could involve if they had to fire. Trusting Glenn's judgement, he turned back to Anna. "How do you want to do this? Where do you want to stab it?"

Michael darted forward in a panic. "No, wait," he said urgently. "This is ridiculous."

"Why don't you wait back there," Rick told him firmly, sharing a glance with Carol. She came forward now, putting her hand on Michaels' arm and reassuring him. Trying to look past how much spoon feeding these people required, he led Anna a little closer, asking her to look it up and down. "You're perfectly safe," he reminded her. "We've got this under control, this Walker isn't going anywhere without our say so. Even without us here, you have the advantage over it."

"How?" she asked, disbelieving him. "What advantage?"

"They're not as strong as you are, especially when they're decayed. Their reaction times are slow too, they can't anticipate what we're going to do next, that don't have that instinct. You're smarter than it." He spoke to everyone now. "The only advantage a Walker has over you, is in numbers or a surprise attack. That's all. Anna, you ready?"

"I…I don't know," she stammered, and he began to see she was losing her nerve, more tears spilling from her eyes. "I don't know what to do."

"I know," he said patiently. "Stab up and under the base of the skull." Making it easy for her, he slowly demonstrated exactly the motion she should make and where she ought to aim. "Just try."

While Michonne and Rosita repositioned themselves to give Anna and Rick plenty of room, Glenn stepped forward and clicked his fingers at the Walker, getting it's attention. When the Walker turned its head towards Glenn, exposing the back it's neck to Anna and her knife, Rick gently coaxed her into making a move. It took a while, and Rick was clinging to his patience, knowing she would never trust him if he lost his temper with her. It's attention easily diverted, the Walker kept looking around, and every time it turned its head back towards her she seemed to lose her nerve.

"Come on Anna," he said insistently, pushing her a little. "We can't be here all day, you have to do this, you know you do." As Glenn clicked his fingers and got the Walker's attention again, Rick reached out with his gloved hand and pressed it against the side of the Walkers head, forcing it to stay in that position. "Come on, right now. Right here," he encouraged, using his other hand to remind her of the exact spot she should aim for.

"Now?"

"Now. Just go for it, look right here an-"

She lunged for the Walker before he could even finish his sentence, her features tense and scared as she copied the motion he had shown her. As she swung the knife up towards the Walker's neck, Rick's heart leapt into his throat when he saw that she had closed her eyes, and he braced himself to be accidentally stabbed. To his relief her aim was true, and she plunged the knife into the very spot Rick had indicated. Someone screamed in horror as she made her move, everyone gasping and murmuring under their breath, but their fear grew when the Walker didn't fall dead. Not noticing, Anna just gave a low moan of relief and then walked away while the Walker continued struggling. Taking a proper look at the knife still present, Rick determined the reason for her lack of success.

"Anna, come back," he told her firmly. Letting go of the Walker's head, he stepped away from it and then got her attention, making her look. "It's not dead. See? The angle of your knife was good, but you didn't go deep enough."

"But I - I did it," she moaned, beginning to shake when she realised he was going to make her finish it.

"It's not dead," he shook his head. "You're not safe until it's dead."

Walking as if to her execution, Anna slowly returned, looking out at the others who watched on with a mixture of horror and awe. Bracing herself, she waited until Glenn got its attention again and Rick held it's head away, exposing the knife that was only half embedded below the base of the skull.

"I can't," she whispered breathlessly, shaking her head as she took a step back.

"You're already halfway done," he said, unwilling to let her off the hook. "Use two hands, and push it in as hard as you can."

Looking at his people now, they took another measure to make this easier for her. While Rosita and Michonne kept hold of the hands, Glenn kicked out both of the Walker's legs, sending it crashing to it's knees. Letting his people reposition themselves again, he and Glenn secured the head and held it still for Anna, and he looked at her expectantly.

"Just do it, and then it's done," he told her. "I know you can. I wouldn't ask you if I didn't think you were capable."

Still trembling, Anna hesitantly came forward, jumping back a little as the Walker lurched for a brief moment. At Rick's repeated encouragement, Michonne's too, she came forward and put her hands around the handle of the knife, hesitating before thrusting it in a little. It still wasn't quite enough, and though she lost her nerve yet again, he coaxed her to try for a third time. With her third attempt came success, Anna gritting her teeth as she forced the knife all the way into the hilt. As Rick and his people let it fall to the ground, Anna stepped back as tears started falling down her cheeks again, her jaw quivering as she looked around for Michael.

"Anna, wait," Rick told her, feeling bad when he made her come back.

"But it's dead," she said quietly, her voice wavering. "I did it."

"Yes, you did," he nodded, gesturing to the knife now. "But you've got to get your knife back, you'd probably need it again. This is the easy part. Put your left hand here on the skull," he demonstrated. "Keep it right away from the blade incase you slip a little, and then pull it out smoothly."

To his surprise, she took a deep breath and then did as he asked. Approaching the Walker as if it might jump up at any moment, she trembled as she crouched down beside Rick, but to her credit she did what she was asked. Copying his demonstration, she pulled the knife out in one smooth motion, shuddering at the sight and sound of the gore that was spilt. She scrambled back to her feet as if she'd been burned, staggering away from the corpse.

"Can I go now?" she pleaded, clumsily giving him the knife.

"Yes," he agreed. "You did good, Anna."

It appeared she wanted none of his praise, for the moment he gave his approval she stood up and tore off her gloves, dropping them to the ground before shrugging off the heavy jacket. Letting Michael put his arm around her, the two of them headed off without another word, Rick ignoring the mistrustful glare he was getting from Michael. He did however note that the couple weren't heading home, but down to the second house where the children were watching a moving together. Figuring they must be going to get Haley, Rick turned to Glenn who had a radio.

"Give Tara a heads up," he requested. "Have her make them stay before taking Haley home."

While Glenn took care of that and Rosita and Michonne ditched their gloves, Rick looked around at everyone else, fully expecting the looks he was given. Mistrust, anger and disgust was etched onto the faces of the Alexandrian's, and he knew that while he had blown his attempts to come across as easy going and approachable, he'd achieved what he needed. One of them had killed a Walker, had demonstrated that it could be done, and that he could help them do it. He wasn't naive enough to believe they'd all jump at the chance to try, but he was confident that things were finally going to get moving, whether they liked it or not. Thinking on this, he glanced at Deanna and Reg who's stood nearby, unsurprised to see the same type of expression on their faces.

"Are there any questions?" he asked loudly, challenging them to start arguing again. He was met with silence, and so he continued. "Does anyone have anything to say? Anything at all?"

Observing all the faces, Rick stopped and looked at Carrie, feeling his heart stammer when he saw her expression hadn't changed, and nor had her body language.

"Cancel your plans," he continued loudly, enunciating clearly so there was no room for misunderstanding. "From now until I'm satisfied, there is no book club, there is no construction, no pantry duty, no school. Tomorrow morning we start our gun safety assessment. Nine o'clock at the solar panels, every resident. No exceptions!"

Not waiting for a formal dismissal, the residents practically fled, outraged murmurs breaking out as people went on their way. While they cast mistrustful glances in the direction of Rick, he simply made sure his people got straight to work, everyone knowing that they needed to do next. While Carol quickly set off to the second house to help Tara convince people to let their children stay until they'd disposed of the Walker, Glenn and Noah left to take over from the two watch points that were empty. Donning their gloves again, Abraham, Rosita and Michonne started taking care of the dead Walker, unwinding the chain from around it while Carl fetched them a cart. Worried about Carrie, he looked around to find her.

He was relieved to see her walking arm in arm with Natalie, escorting she and Bob home. She had her back to him, and she made no indication that she was going to turn around and look his way. He wished she would, wishing that he knew what was going on inside her head, that he could tell what she was thinking and exactly what she was mad at…then again he got the feeling he could find out very soon. For now he had bigger problems, one that came in the form of the community's leader. While Reg, Aidan and Spencer hung back at her request, Deanna approached Rick looking less than pleased by the turn of events. Moving away from everyone else to get some privacy, they stepped up onto the grass near the lake, the pleasant setting a direct contrast to their conversation.

Her arms folded and her expression dark, Deanna looked him in the eye. "You asked for unconditional support, and I gave it to you," she said lowly, her eyes narrowed in righteous anger. "But don't you ever put me in that position again."

Not bothered by her anger, Rick was unapologetic. "I didn't feel I had much of a choice."

"Nor did I," she swiftly countered. There was a short pause, the two opposing leaders staring at one another until Deanna chose to take a different tact. Clearing her throat, she seemed to shake her head at him as though exasperated. "Rick…you and I need each other. It's about time we start showing some trust, don't you think?"

While he understood the intentions behind this remark, Rick was unwilling to be the one who budged. He was finished with the way things were done around here. "You first."

Deanna shook her head impatiently. "That is not how this works, Rick. You and-"

"How this works," he cut her off. "Is that you remember one very important fact."

"Oh? And what is that?" she challenged.

Though he knew better than to say this, for he needed Deanna on his side more than ever, Rick found that he couldn't have stopped what he said next, even if he tried. It needed to be said sooner rather than later, regardless of how it was going to infuriate Deanna.

"You are in charge because I allow you to be," he told her, his voice calm but intimidating. "Is that clear?"

Before Deanna could react, they were interrupted as a lingering resident came forward uninvited, appearing in Rick's peripheral vision. "Hey, you can't talk to her like that!" Carter exclaimed in outrage, spluttering. "Y-you sho-"

"Is there something you need, Carter?" Rick asked, cutting him off abruptly. Looking at him impatiently, Rick squared his shoulders and stared him down, clearly challenging him to keep trying, to keep pushing at him.

"Well," he started dumbly, blinking at Rick as he felt the sting of intimidation. He hesitated for a moment, his mouth opening and closing as he summoned his nerve. "You ca-"

"Carter," Deanna said gently, interrupting him. Unfolding her arms, she clasped her hands together and looked at him kindly, her expression softening. "It's alright, thank you," she told him, giving him a nod of reassurance. "You should probably go home for the evening."

Clearly uncomfortable with leaving Deanna alone with the man whose group had just brought a Walker inside the walls, Carter looked over at Reg, Aidan and Spencer who waited nearby, unsure of what to do. Hesitating a moment longer, he took a deep breath before looking at Rick, his mouth twisted into a grimace as he took a step back and walked away. Watching him depart, Rick and Deanna stood awkwardly for a few moments, waiting until they had privacy again before they looked back to one another. Clearing her throat, Deanna folded her arms again before she spoke.

"It seems I have some damage control to do on your behalf," she said in an icy tone. "I need to make sure you don't completely lose the trust of your own people."

Holding back what he wanted to say, that the Alexandrians were not his own people, Rick was glad when Deanna simply turned on her heel and walked away, concluding the conversation on his behalf. Avoiding the gaze of Reg, for he wasn't sure he could stomach the look of betrayal on the kind man's face, he too turned away and began heading home, noting that Abraham and Rosita were loading the dead Walker onto a cart so they could take it outside. He paused only long enough to usher Carl to come home, his son having been waiting for him. He would have to make time for them to talk again tonight, for them to discuss what he had done and the reasons for it, for Carl deserved to know.

To his surprise Carrie met him at the intersection outside Pete and Jessie's house, her arms folded and her body language anything but friendly. "Can we talk?" she said bluntly. "Please?" she added, glancing at Carl.

Slowing to a stop, Rick flexed his jaw, his hand drifting to his duty belt and looping his thumb around it. Giving Carl an apologetic glance, he sent him home ahead of him, watching him go until he was halfway down the street. "Alright," he began now, turning to face Carrie expectantly. "Let's talk."

She swore under her breath, looking at him in frustration. "Outside the walls."

Having half expected that, he took a quick glance at her leg to check she was fully armed, and it was only then that he gave a reluctant nod of agreement. Though he wanted to clear the air between them, he could see that she was gearing herself up for a fight…it seemed she had a lot to say, and she wanted a private place to say it.

"Let's go."

* * *

A/N I hope you enjoyed this chapter. As for what happens next, Chapter 21 is one of my absolute favourites!


	21. Chapter 21

It was particularly awkward for Carrie to be standing at the gate alongside Rick, Abraham, Rosita and the dead Walker they had neglected to tell her about. Knowing she had enough anger boiling away inside her for one hell of an argument, she'd requested that she and Rick go outside the walls to talk, for this was not a moment in which she was willing to keep her temper. Feeling angry and betrayed by not only what he had done by bringing in the Walker, but by him intentionally leaving her out of the plan, she was long past the stage of having a calm discussion.

It was difficult to comprehend what had happened, to rationalise what Rick had done. After weeks of trying to win over the Alexandrians, weeks of making steady progress in his attempt to earn their trust, he'd thrown it all away the moment he presented the community with a Walker. She understood the urgency he felt, for despite his efforts to make the understand the imminent danger they found themselves in, the message was not being received, but this was not the way to go about it. The community meeting had been going so well…Rick had been patient, he had let people talk and he had listened to them. But he allowed his own impatience to get in the way, and what should have been an effort spread out over the next few days turned into a spectacle meant to shock and terrify people into submission.

That's all he had right now, submission. He'd lost all trust he'd been working for, all the trust Carrie had been helping to build, and he might never earn that again. By letting his impatience boil over, he'd burnt many bridges that he couldn't afford to. When he showed them the Walker, the calm and patient leader from earlier in the meeting was gone, replaced by a man who refused to listen, who refused to hear anything but agreement. She had never seen him come on so strongly, so forcefully, and she didn't quite know what to make of it. Didn't he realise what he was doing? Didn't he realise he was betraying the very trust he'd tried so hard to earn?

When Francine arrived to take gate duty for them, Carrie departed first. Not waiting for Rick, she swiftly strode down the streets, listening to the sound of the cart as Abraham and Rosita dragged the Walker's body to one of their pits. She didn't need to look over her shoulder to know that Rick was following her, though she was glad he was keeping his distance. He knew she was furious, and that this fury was directed straight at him. As she turned the corner and the RV came into sight she hoped he didn't get the wrong impression as to why she was bringing him there of all places. She was in no mood for a quick screw, but their usual place would be secure and private…as perfect for a loud argument as it was for sex. Opening the door and stepping inside, she took a deep breath and then started on him the moment he locked the door.

"You are unbelievable," she started angrily, shouting already. "I cannot believe you would do this!"

He didn't immediately reply. Apparently prepared to handle her angry outburst, he took a deep breath before speaking. He stood with one hand on his hip, prepared to hold his ground. "I won't apologise for what I did," he said bluntly. "It had to happen."

Carrie swore under her breath. "You think I'm only mad about the Walker?"

He hesitated, his brow furrowing a little. "Aren't you?"

"Of course I am, I'm fucking furious," she snapped. "I'm also furious about the fact that you didn't tell me!"

Rick sighed, a flicker of guilt crossing his face as he looked away. "Look, Carrie-"

"You couldn't spare me thirty seconds to give me a heads up? You left me completely in the dark, and then sent Carol to put me in my place."

"No, it wasn't like that," he tried to argue. "I asked her to-"

"Why was I the only one you didn't trust? Why was I the only one who didn't know what you were going to do today?"

"That's not true," he argued hastily. "Some of the others didn't know either."

"Like who? Sasha and Maggie sure as hell knew, and so did Tara!"

"Well - Eugene didn't."

She raised her eyebrows at this, and for a moment she almost felt sorry for him, seeing the moment he realised what he had said. Folding her arms across her chest she glared at him furiously. "Great," she said icily. "So to you, I rate as low as Eugene."

"That's not what I said."

"It's sure as hell what you meant."

"No, it's not."

"Then why didn't you tell me?" she demanded angrily. "Why did you think so poorly of me that I couldn't get a simple heads up about the fact that you were bringing a God damned Walker inside the walls?"

"You would have tried to stop me," he stated calmly.

"Yes I would have tried to stop you! What you did was crazy."

"It worked."

"All you've done is destroy their trust!" she shouted, wishing he would yell back. "You've destroyed the trust that we've all been trying to create!"

"You're wrong," he shook his head. "Anna killed it. She stepped up, and now the rest of them will too."

"Maybe they will step up," she acknowledged. "Maybe they'll participate in the gun training, and maybe some of them will even let you teach them to kill Walkers, but you've ruined the one thing you needed most!"

"It doesn't matter if they mistrust me."

"It does matter! That's why you asked me to help you! That's why I've been putting myself through coffee dates and gossip sessions in the pantry, to build their trust in you! We've all been doing that, even you! Now in five minutes you've destroyed everything!"

"So what?" he asked, finally beginning to raise his voice. "So what if they don't trust me? I don't want to be their friend, I want them to stop being dead weight. They have to be able to take care of themselves."

"They outnumber you, Rick! Even though half of them are incompetent, they outnumber you. You have to have these people on your side."

"Or what?" he challenged boldly. "What are they going to do? Nothing. There's not a damn thing any of them can do about it, because I'm in charge!"

"Deann-"

"Deanna's in charge because I allow her to be!" he finally shouted, his temper snapping. "I am the one who decides what goes on here. She just placates them and appeases their every desire!"

"You need her on your side," she argued, glad that he was finally getting fired up about this. "And you had her, Rick! You had her right up until you brought a Walker inside without her knowledge!"

"You think I care that much about Deanna's opinion? You think she influences anything I'm willing to do to protect this place?"

"Can you even hear yourself? What is wrong with you?"

"What's wrong with me? What's wrong with me, is that I'm not Deanna!"

"You've made that distinction quite clear," she said lowly.

"I will not play into her method of appeasing people, of simply giving them what they want!" he continued shouting. "I'm sick of them being so delusional, and of her enabling them! She's going to get them killed. I'm the one who is actually trying to help, but they're so delusional they can't fucking see it!"

Getting a strange feeling in the pit of her stomach, Carrie narrowed her eyes as she stood and listened to him getting it all off his chest. "Go on."

"Deanna has no idea what she's doing, she's leading these people no where. She wants to let them live in their little fantasy land, because all she knows is how to people please. I want people to be able to survive, but not at the expense of my own family."

"That's an interesting choice of words," she remarked quietly.

This was enough to make Rick pause, to look at her in confusion. "What?"

"I said, that's an interesting choice of words," she repeated slowly. "Deanna appeases people. She placates their delusions, their fantasies…"

"That's what she does!" he argued, unknowingly backing himself into a corner. "She should be empowering people to live in this world, to step up!" he continued ranting. "But instead she just let's them decide what's best, as if they really know! She's going to….what?" he demanded angrily.

Looking at the floor, she drew a deep breath and braced herself, knowing that this was about to get ugly. "Everything you've just said…"

"Yes?"

"It sounds remarkably familiar to what I told Deanna a few weeks ago," she started. "It sounds like exactly what I told her when she asked to speak to me in private."

Rick's face fell, and she saw the exact moment he realised what he had done. As a sour expression crossed his face, he sighed and turned away. Seeing him pinching the bridge of his nose, a habit that she knew was aroused by stress, she was certain that she was onto something here.

"What did you do?" she demanded lividly, her anger escalating when he tried to avoid her question at first. "Rick, how do you know what I said to her?"

Turning back to her, he put one hand in front of himself as if to try and calm her down. "Carrie, you need to understand that-"

"Tell me what you did!" His discomfort and guilt only worsened, and when he refused to meet her eye Carrie's anger escalated. "You warned me she was going to talk to me in the first place, but how did you know what I said? What, were you hiding in the bushes?" she questioned, trying to goad him into finally answering. "Did you plant a bug in her house?"

At this last remark, he looked up at her and made eye contact, his expression giving his answer before he could actually speak. "Yes," he admitted bluntly. "I bugged her house."

His honest admission stunned her into silence, and she gaped at him blankly, her mind feeling paralysed. He had bugged Deanna's house? He was spying on the leader of Alexandria? As she got lightheaded for a moment, she reached out and braced herself against the RV's bathroom door, the walls feeling like they were closing in on her. "Oh my God," she said weakly, unable to believe what she'd just heard.

"Carrie, you don't understand."

"No, I understand perfectly," she growled under her breath, looking back up at him. "You're spying on Deanna. That's how you knew she was going to ask me about Granger. That's how you knew."

"Yes."

"So you were spying on me too then?"

"No!" he said hastily, coming towards her. "No, of course not."

"But you listened!" she accused, stepping back from him. In a moment of horror she recalled telling Deanna she'd once had a miscarriage, something that was meant for only her to hear, not Rick. "You listened to a conversation that was meant to be private! You heard everything I told her."

"I wasn't listening to you," he insisted calmly, trying to reason with her. "It was her. She is the one I was listening to."

"But you listened to me too," she insisted. "Who else are you spying on? Please tell me you don't have a bug in my room."

He had the nerve to look offended, and he raised his voice to match hers. "No, Carrie. I don't have a bug in your room!"

"Forgive me for questioning you. How long have you been spying on her?"

"Get off your high horse," he snapped, his features fraught with anger. "I do what I have to do, and I will not apologise for it!"

"How long have you been spying on her?"

"It's none of your damn business!" he shouted. "If it was any of your business, we would have told you! Can I make that clear?"

"We? Who is we?"

He swore under his breath again. "It's got nothing to do with you."

"Yes, it has! You listened to a private conversation where I told Deanna things that were only for her to hear. I have the right to know who else heard."

"I was spying on Deanna, not you!" he tried to reason before justifying his actions. "I needed to know what was going on. I needed to know what she was thinking, where I stood with her, if she had an agenda. None of this even matters anymore, the bug is gone, alright?"

"Like I believe you now."

"It's gone."

She did believe him this time, but this did not make it alright. "Deanna would be furious if she found out what you did," she told him. "She would hit the roof."

Standing up a little straighter, he peered at her in surprise. "Is that a threat?" he asked lowly. "Are you threatening me?"

Carrie let out a growl of frustration, clenching her fists as she turned away for a moment. "After everything, do you really think I'd hammer the last nail in your coffin?" she questioned loudly, hurt that he would think that. "Do you really think I'd do that to you?"

"No, of course not," he said quickly, seeing his error.

"Well you obviously think pretty lowly of me."

"No, I don't. Of course I don't."

"Then what about today?" she shouted, feeling as though they were going around in circles. "Keeping me in the dark about the Walker! Why didn't you trust me?"

"Why?" he asked incredulously, as if the answer was starting her in the face. "I'm trying to keep you out of this shit!"

She was in disbelief. "Aren't I part of your group?"

"You needed plausible deniability," he said in a rush, as if the explanation was dependent on how fast he could deliver it. "If people thought you were involved with what I did today, they'd never trust you again, and we need that. That's why I didn't tell you what I was planning, that's why I kept you in the dark. You're the one who doesn't trust me!"

Carrie raised her eyebrows, surprised by this unexpected accusation. "What have I done to break your trust?"

This seemed to strike a nerve, and he looked at her in silence for a long moment. "The way you were looking at me today, like you're the one who can't trust me…like you're scared of me," he explained, sounding more hurt than she expected. "I'm can't stand you looking at me like that."

She hesitated, trying to wrap her head around the latter remark. "No," she corrected him. "I'm not scared of you."

"Yes, yo-"

"I'm not scared of you!" she shouted, the volume making her throat strain. "I'm scared _for_ you, Rick, there's a difference!"

He rolled his eyes and shook his head in disdain. "That's ridiculous, Carrie…you don't need to be scared for me. I know what I'm doing."

"Well I am," she stated plainly, lowering her voice now. "I'm scared for you, because I know the things you've seen, what you've been through. I know you understand so much more than I do, and I'm worried that's going to work against you."

"Against me?"

She nodded. "The meeting today? It started out so well!" she said imperatively, hoping he would understand. "You were listening, you were talking to people instead of talking at them. You had them, Rick! You had their trust, and then you threw it away. You're forgetting where you came from," she concluded softly.

"What?" he sighed incredulously. "Where I came from doesn't matter, I'm not that person anymore."

"It does matter," she insisted, cutting him off when he tried to argue. "It does matter, because the people here are who you used to be! You're doing to them what Shane did to you!"

This last remark sparked an unexpected reaction from him, his sudden flash of white hot anger making Carrie take a step back. "Don't use him against me!" he growled, undoubtedly upset. "Don't ever use him against me."

"I'm not!" she argued, standing her ground so that she could explain herself. "I'm using your own words. At the prison you said that everything Shane was telling you was right, but that he was too impatient to show you in a way you could understand. That's what you're doing now. Your message is right," she said emphatically, wanting him to see that she was on his side. "But your delivery is all wrong. You're setting yourself up for a world of uninvited trouble."

"I know I am," he nodded in agreement. "The same trouble I'm trying to protect you from."

"Don't worry about me, worry about you."

He looked at her incredulously, tilting his head. "You think I can't handle my own shit? I can handle these people."

"You can't. Not now you've lost their trust."

"I'm not arguing about that again. I stand by what I did. It had to happen."

"What if they revolt against you? What if someone does something drastic?"

"Don't question me, Carrie," he said sharply, his voice like acid and his eyes narrowed. "I know what I'm doing, I don't need you telling me how the world works."

His tone silenced her, and unsure of what to do next Carrie folded her arms and looked at him blankly. So much had been said in such a short amount of time, a great deal of anger and betrayal being expressed with very little warning. For her, this was almost completely unchartered territory. Since they'd started sleeping together she and Rick had never fought or argued…things had never been personal enough for it until today. Everything that had happened in the last six weeks of being in Alexandria was coming to a crux right here and now…given what had happened that day, an argument was inevitable. Standing there in silence, Carrie bitterly dwelled on what she had come to learn, that Rick had been spying on Deanna, that he and at least one other had intentionally listened to their private conversation.

Just as she prepared herself to speak, to suggest that they go back inside the walls and cool off, Rick started towards her without warning. Closing the gap between them he came to stand right in front of her, hesitating as he looked her in the eye to gauge what she was feeling in that moment. She held her breath for a moment, resisting the urge to reach out for the familiarity of his touch, his smell. Knowing what he wanted, she gave no indication of her approval or disapproval, forcing him to act without certainty. Slightly tilting his head, his eyes drifted shut as he began to kiss her, his lips moving over hers without abandon. He didn't start gently, rather his kiss was firm as he tried to coax a response from her, one she intentionally held back. When she didn't react he tentatively moved his hands to her waist, hoping his touch would coax a response.

"Come on," he pleaded, his voice a soft whisper. "Please."

Trying harder now, he moved one hand up the back of her neck and into her hair, his tongue darting out to brush against the seam of her lips, asking her to open them. Carrie held back a few moments longer, making him really work for it before she was willing to respond. Returning his kiss, she parted her lips and sighed when she felt his tongue brushing against hers, enjoying the depth of his sudden passion for her. As she put her arms around his neck she could feel the relief in his body, the way he melted against her with a long sigh, and that was exactly what she'd been waiting for. Her anger would not be placated that easily, and she made that clear to him by pressing her teeth around the swell of his bottom lip, gently at first…and then hard.

Rick wrenched himself away from her with a gasp, and he swore under his breath as he raised his hand to his lip, feeling the spot where she'd bitten him too hard to count as foreplay. Seeing the shock and hurt that crossed his face, Carrie felt a surge of grim satisfaction, but before he could say or do anything to express his outrage she was kissing him again. This time it was he who refused to return her kiss at first, giving her the opportunity to run her tongue over the very spot on his lip that she had bitten. She felt the way it throbbed, tasting a little blood from the tender flesh inside his mouth, but she felt no regret. It was inevitable that he kiss her back with urgency, inevitable that his hands start lifting her shirt up as he ushered her back towards the bedroom. Despite how furious they were with each other, there was no other way this was going to go. Sex was the basis of their relationship, regardless of how much she wanted more, and so this would be the way they reconciled.

"Why did you bite me?" he asked as he pulled her shirt over her head. "Why?"

"Because I wanted to."

Letting him take the lead for now, she hastily opened the buttons on his shirt, her hands getting caught up between them as he laid them down on one of the beds. His hands were everywhere across her body, running up her thighs, over her hips and then around her back. Sitting up a little, she let him remove her bra and wrangle it off her arms, her head falling back with a strained moan as he began kissing and massaging her breasts with fervour. The sensations his touch evoked were wonderful as always, the way he enjoyed her body with such eagerness always making her want more. But she was still angry with him, and so she tightly clenched her fingers into his hair and pulled, her other hand reaching for his lower back and sharply pressing her fingernails into his skin.

"Stop it," he muttered in frustration, sitting up and grabbing her arms. So gentle it only angered her more, he pressed her wrists into the mattress and then leant back down over her, restraining her as he gently kissed the underside of her jaw. "Stop trying to hurt me."

Ignoring him, she raised her head and brought her mouth to the crook of his neck and sucked firmly, scraping her teeth over his skin. He pulled away like she fully expected him to, his eyes alight with annoyance. She never did that to him, she never intentionally left a mark on his skin lest Carl be the one to see it, but the desire to mark him in that way had always been there. She wanted to do that to him, to brand him with a bruise the way he did to her, and she was always denied the chance…unlike he was.

Still holding her wrists against the mattress, he firmly pressed himself against the peak of her legs, rocking against her a few times before moving down a little. Retaliating, though it didn't really count, he nuzzled the underside of her breast before sealing his lips around the skin and then sucking. Indulging in what she was not allowed to, Rick sucked and licked at her skin, utilising his teeth as gently as possible until a red mark began to form. Unable to help herself, Carrie relaxed with a long moan, always loving it when he did that to her, her body responding no matter how angry she was. Bucking up against him she tried to make him hurry, unable to wait any longer, to hold back and make him work for it. She couldn't recall ever needing sex as badly as she did now, ever needing to feel him naked against her, the two of them using one another to release the frustration they had caused.

He could tell how badly she wanted it, and to her frustration he used this to his advantage. Though he released her wrists, Rick didn't give in to their mutual desires. Instead he resumed his former indulgence of kissing and massaging her breasts, though his touch was a little more tender this time, a little less hurried. He ignored every attempt she made to hurry him, going at his own pace as he slowly began kissing down her body, and it took an age before he reached her naval. He gave the piercing a gentle tug and then kissed the skin around it, a motion that never failed to arouse her. As she tried to reign in her impatience, to enjoy what he was doing for her, she heard him saying something against her stomach, and so she hastened to listen.

"…you make it so difficult…want to protect you…"

Her heart stammered as she listened to this, her jaw quivering as she started thinking instead of laying back and enjoying this. She knew what he was like during sex, that if he started talking in moments of passion his mouth would run away with him. His loquaciousness was normally a welcome addition to their sex life, never failing to arouse the same response from her, but not what he was saying now. She wondered if he had any comprehension of what he was saying, for right now he was expressing something that she had pondered for some time.

"…just let me take care of you…"

He wanted to protect her, he wanted to look after her…though it was a given that he felt that way about everyone in his group, he'd never expressed it to them in words. It was a mutual understanding that they all wanted to protect one another, but when it was directed to her like it was now, it felt different. For so long she'd been trying to ignore the moments when Rick treated her differently to the rest of their group, telling herself that she was reading too much into it. But hearing it from him made her suspicions real. He was always checking up on her before she went on a supply run or out to the safe houses, his eyes looking her up and down to check she had her weapons, critiquing the group of people she was going with. She'd never noticed him doing that to others like Glenn or Michonne, and at first she had thought it was because he didn't fully trust her to look after herself, that he was double checking her…with what he was saying now, perhaps it was something else.

Feeling him hooking his arms around her thighs and bringing them to rest on his shoulder, she looked down and watched as he reached for the top of her jeans. He opened the button and kissed the skin he revealed, and she should have let him continue his downward trajectory, because God knew he was good with his mouth and fingers…but she couldn't. The feelings for him that she'd been trying to ignore made themselves known again, bringing hope. The lines of their friends with benefits relationship had felt blurry for a few weeks now, and she knew that for her it wasn't enough, that she was beginning to want more. While she'd hoped he was feeling the same way, she hadn't counted on it, knowing that it wasn't as simple for him. What he had just been saying to her opened up the possibility that there was another reason he was always checking on her, another reason that he treated her differently to the rest of his group. Was this an indication that he felt the same way?

"Rick…stop," she muttered softly.

It was a rare occasion that she'd needed to ask him to stop, but like always did he stopped immediately, lifting his head and looking at her with a mixture of concern and confusion. Seeing her serious expression, he matched it as he slowly took his hands off her and sat up. He looked worried when she too sat up and then shuffled back from him.

"Did I do som-"

She shook her head quickly, not wanting him to get the wrong idea. Clearing her throat, she brought her knees together and pulled them up, feeling strangely embarrassed to be sitting in front of him half naked. As she observed the awkward space between them, and the worried look on his face, she hastened to clarify what was going on in her head. Their argument, everything he had done that day, the way he had listened to the conversation between she and Deanna…that all became minor details for now. "Rick, what's going on?"

"What do you mean?" he asked apprehensively.

"I mean…" she started slowly, trying to collect her thoughts. "I need to know why you treat me differently."

Startled by her astute observation, his reaction was written all over his face. Almost immediately he shrunk back away from her, his body language becoming defensive. "I don't."

"Yes, you do," she insisted. "You're always checking up on me before a supply run, yo-"

"I do that with everyone."

"Not like you do with me. I know you hate it when I go on supply runs, and when I take watch for the construction crew. When we check the safe houses you always insist on going in the same car as me," she continued, the examples coming easily now. "You won't let me check the cameras on the highway by myself, or check the snares, or -"

"You're reading too much into it." His tone abrupt, he suddenly stood up and began fastening the buttons on his shirt.

"No, I'm not," she insisted, holding eye contact. His expression was one of mild panic, a deep seated anguish visible in his eyes, and in that moment she knew she had struck a nerve, that she was onto something. She got up and clumsily pulled on her tank top, taking a step towards him while he stepped back. "You treat me differently from everyone else."

"I don't."

"You do," she insisted, darting forward and grabbing his arm as he tried to turn away. "Rick, just tell me why!" she said desperately, needing an answer. "Please."

"No."

Darting in front of him as he tried to leave, she stood at the end of the short hall, blocking his exit and forcing him to look at her. She took a deep breath and looked him in the eye, knowing this was her chance to see if there was anything between them, if he shared her desire for something more than the relationship they had now.

"You treat me differently," she stated this as fact. "I know I'm not as good out there as Michonne or Glenn, but you know I can handle myself."

"Yes," he implored. "Of course I know that."

"Then why don't you treat me like the others?" she questioned, keeping her tone even and calm. There was a short pause, Rick shifting his weight between his feet as he looped his thumb around his duty belt, but when he didn't respond she pressed him a little harder. "You treat me differently…at least acknowledge that."

Taking a step back and glancing over his shoulder, it looked as though he was trying to flee, and upon seeing no other exits than the ones she was blocking, he resigned himself to giving an answer of some kind. He clenched his jaw as he looked back at her, but inexplicably he looked angry with her. "Yes," he admitted softly. "I do treat you differently."

Letting out a long breath, Carrie allowed herself to feel a moment of relief, glad they could agree on something. "Why?" she asked tentatively, knowing that she was putting everything on the line, that his answer right now could change a lot of things between them.

He didn't answer immediately, though he did look back at her. He seemed almost breathless, his expression a mixture of anguish and uncertainty as he mulled over his answer.

"Rick, why?" she asked again, unable to stand the tension.

"Because," he started softly, his vulnerability very clear to her. "Because I…"

She let him take his time, but just as it seemed he got the nerve to say something, he lost it. He averted his eyes, his expression becoming closed off as he shifted his weight between his feet. Before she could do anything to stop him he was leaving, effortlessly brushing past her attempt to block his exit.

"Rick, stop," she said urgently, grabbing for the back of his shirt. "Would you just stay, please?"

In seconds he had burst out of the RV, the door loudly hitting the exterior of the vehicle and then bouncing back. He walked away in great haste, not looking back as he ran his hand over the handle of his Colt, reassuring himself of it's place as he scanned his environment. She called out to him one last time, but as if nothing at all had happened he left, ignoring her completely. As disappointment and emotion welled up inside her, Carrie moved to stand in the open doorway, watching him disappear around the corner as he headed back home.

He had been so close to opening up, to telling her something that obviously had a great weight behind it, of that she was certain. It was her first instinct that she should follow him, that she should chase him down and force his hand, beg him to tell her everything and then do the same in return…but she knew better. She knew Rick, she knew the inner strength he possessed. If that inner strength wasn't enough for him to tell her what he was thinking, then she had no business in trying to force it out of him before he was ready. So instead of following him and seeking the resolution she needed, she instead closed the RV door and locked it, sinking down onto the couch as her lower lip began to tremble.

Everything that had happened that day hit her heavily…the Wolf's death, the community meeting, the fight…Rick's admission that he treated her differently. Wiping the moisture that began spilling from her eyes, Carrie quickly tried to recollect herself, not wanting to cry over a stupid fight. She didn't cry when she caught Logan cheating on her a second time, nor when they got divorced, so she sure as hell wasn't crying over an argument with Rick. A few minutes later she returned to the bedroom and redressed properly, getting herself together before leaving the RV and heading back to Alexandria. Rick wasn't the only problem she had to handle at the moment, there was an entire community of upset people who by now would both need and resent her.

She had a lot of damage control to do before she even started thinking about Rick again.

* * *

Walking the dark streets of Alexandria, Carrie slowly made her way past Aaron and Eric's house, trying not to drag her feet too much. Though typically there was peaceful serenity to be found all around Alexandria, the community by night felt even more so. Entirely dark, there was not one single source of light to be found except that which came from her flashlight, the darkness making her feel as if she was back on her own again, living hand to mouth on the road. Despite this, the darkness was a comfort to her, giving her the peace she needed in order to process the shit storm she had endured that day. It had been a long day already, even before the shit hit the fan when the Wolf appeared outside the walls…things just got progressively worse from there.

Though her intention that afternoon had been to return and start doing some damage control, she soon found that there was little opportunity to do so. All of the residents were in their houses, hiding as though Rick would be back with another Walker, and none of them were in the mood to receive Carrie as a visitor. She made the rounds on a few residents in particular, talking to them at their front doors, trying to offer reassurance and answer their questions, but she could sense their resistance. Every resident was having a similar reaction, that being one of immense mistrust for Rick and his group, but despite their argument that afternoon, she did have to give him credit in one respect. Regardless of how the residents felt about Rick and his group, it seemed Carrie and Carol had escaped most of their fury.

"I know it wasn't you," Anna sniffled, still horribly shaken by what had happened, by what she had found the courage to do. "I trust you Carrie…I know you didn't approve."

She got similar remarks from a few key others like Shelly and Barbara, the comments affirming that regardless of her own fury towards him, Rick had been right. Keeping her completely in the dark about the Waker had not only negated the opportunity for her to talk him out of it, but it protected her from the fall out. The residents still trusted her, they didn't think she and Carol were involved. But still, it did hurt to know that Rick didn't trust her poker face, that he wasn't sure he could depend on her to foster a carefully crafted reaction.

That night she hadn't been ready to face Rick again, and so she had volunteered to take Noah's evening shift from the east post. Though her skills with a rifle left much to be desired, Glenn had taken the north post and Sasha had the watch tower, and so they were quickly available should she need them. Carrie was grateful for the easy shift on watch, wanting something to go right for her. Needing to be vigilant she spent most of her time with her elbows resting on the top of the wall, constantly raising the night vision binoculars as she kept watch. Unlike earlier that day, there was little of interest going on outside Alexandria's walls that evening. A couple of Walkers were impaled on the spikes, and a distant thud indicated another had fallen into one of the pits, but as for activity that was the most of it.

With little to occupy her mind she found herself constantly replaying the events of that afternoon over and over again, still trying to comprehend the magnitude of what had happened. Setting aside what happened with the Wolf, with Rick forcing Pete to let him die, there was the community meeting, the Walker…the fight in the RV. It was bad enough that Rick brought a Walker into the community without having the decency to warn her, but he'd unwittingly revealed that he'd been spying on Deanna, and by consequence Carrie too. A part of her tried to rationalise this, to support his argument that he didn't intend to spy on her, but a larger part was stung by this betrayal. He could have chosen not to listen, and yet he did. She had thought she was talking to Deanna privately, a conversation between just the two of them, but that wasn't the case. Rick and at least one other person had heard every word she said. Although she'd said nothing that poorly reflected her, the deceit still hurt.

Slowly walking past Pete and Jessie's house, Carrie pictured the horrified looks on their faces, the looks on all the Alexandrians' faces when they saw the Walker in their community. It was then that she knew Rick might have caused irrevocable damage to the relationships he'd built here, that he had gone too far too quickly. She understood the urgency he felt, she appreciated the magnitude of the threat they were facing, but Rick couldn't see that with just a little more work they would have achieved the understanding they needed from the community. But it seemed like he had forgotten where he came from, the person that he used to be. He forgot how to talk to people, how forgot how difficult it was to be in their position. He ought to have known better than to force this on them…he'd told her what Shane was like at Herschel's farm, how even though his message was right, he couldn't deliver it in a way that Rick was ready to understand. That was the mistake Rick was making now, except he was too far gone to see it.

After the uncertain way things had been left, the last thing she wanted to do was spend an evening at home with him. It would have been hours of pretending that everything was fine, of acting as if nothing had happened between the two of them. Taking watch was preferable to sitting across the dinner table from him, pretending she was furious with his very personal betrayal and his reluctance to explain himself.

It was with shame that she thought about how she had retaliated to his betrayal, disliking the fact that she had bitten him. She hadn't done it to be frisky, nor to amp up the foreplay…she did it to hurt him - and it did. A little blood had been drawn inside his lip, but even then she wasn't done - she'd pulled his hair, she'd scratched him hard…actions like that were very uncharacteristic of her. She owed him an apology for her intentional attempts to hurt him, but deserved or not, there was no way in hell he was getting an apology first. He had a lot to fix between the two of them, and if he knew what was good for him he'd do it sooner rather than later.

Arriving home, she found the house dark except for a single lamp that had been left on for her, someone ensuring that she didn't arrive home in complete darkness. Grateful for this she went to the refrigerator and looked inside, knowing she would find a plate or bowl of food bearing her name. Locating it, she smiled to see a bowl of something that resembled green noodles, and when she pulled off the cling film she breathed in the delicious aroma of celery and paprika. Firmly believing that Carol could do anything with even the most basic ingredients, she put her meal in the microwave and then poured a glass of white wine, taking care to keep her noise levels to a minimum. Thinking about the shitty day she had, she poured a little more than was socially acceptable into her wine glass.

Feeling cooped up inside the house after having been on watch for so long, she took her bowl and glass of wine outside, sitting on the porch steps and enjoying the dark night. She sipped at her wine and then set it aside, twirling her fork into the noodles before eagerly digging in. Just as she had expected, the casserole was delicious, filled with a mixture of fresh and canned vegetables, and the occasional small piece of meat. Up until very recently, their household had enjoyed a few extra rations of meat to accommodate for Carrie's poorly health, and although the pantry freezer was full, it seemed they had been switched back to their regular ration. Nevertheless, Carol could do wonders, even with celery.

Though she tried to relax her mind and enjoy the meal, she found herself constantly replaying her fight with Rick over and over. She felt foolish for the way she had handled things, not just for the way the fight had escalated, but for the way she had stopped him as they started heading towards sex. She had been able to hear him muttering as he kissed his way down her stomach, cursing the way she made it so difficult to protect her. It had stirred up something she'd been wondering about for quite some time, reminding her of the way he treated her so differently from everyone else. Given the activity they were fast approaching her timing was less than impeccable, but suddenly Carrie could no longer hold back her question…she had to know why he treated her so differently. She'd been filled with a flicker of hope that maybe he felt the same way for her that she did for him, and it was that hope that made her ask the question.

For a while now she had noticed the way he seemed particularly protective of her when she left the walls, the way he insisted on going with her should she be helping with the supply houses, or the way he now spent greater time assessing the supply run plans. He'd always been vigilant when Glenn was taking a run crew out somewhere, but the first time Carrie had gone too Rick had been over cautious, double checking that the van was running, that they had alternate routes and reminding them not to take risks. At the time she had assumed he was just fussing because he had nothing else to do…now she suspected there was more to it. In hindsight she recognised that she should have handled this in another way, that she shouldn't have been so forward with her question that afternoon. She should have waited until after they'd had sex, when they'd relieved their frustrations and were relaxed and satiated. In her mind's eye she could picture the opportune moment, Rick's eyelids heavy as he fought the urge to fall asleep with her head against his shoulder. That would have been the right time to ask him, not before when their emotions were so heightened.

Today had been the first time that he'd ever admitted to treating her differently to the rest of his group. It was quite the revelation, particularly given his tendency to keep things like that to himself. Still dwelling on their argument, she wished he hadn't lost his nerve, that he'd had the courage to tell her why…she just wanted to know, whatever the reason was. He'd been right on the cusp of telling her, he'd come so close only to falter at the last moment. Not knowing left her in a state of limbo, making her feel as though she was emotionally neither here nor there. If only she could know what he was thinking right now.

Thanks to the silence of the night she could hear the soft footsteps of someone coming down the stairs, and she looked over her shoulder and watched the silhouette approaching. Though she had been hoping it was Rick she didn't bank too much on this…that would have been too perfect. Instead it was Carol who entered the kitchen, the light from the living room lamp casting a warm glow over her fluffy yellow robe. Carol looked at her with a smile before heading into the kitchen, and thinking nothing more of it she turned back to what remained of her dinner. It came as a surprise when she heard footsteps coming closer, and an even greater surprise when she realised Carol intended to join her outside.

"May I?" Carol enquired, holding out the bottle of wine from which Carrie had been drinking.

"Of course," she said, glad that the darkness could hide her surprised expression. Moving over on the step, she watched as Carol sat down beside her and poured the wine into a glass before topping up Carrie's. "Thank you."

"No problem," Carol said pleasantly, reaching back and putting the bottle where they couldn't knock it over in the dark. "You know, I don't think you and I have ever shared a glass of wine together."

This was less to do with opportunity and more to do with Carol not fully warming to her. "No, we haven't," she said politely, the two of them clinking their glasses together.

"How's the casserole?"

"It's good," she said honestly, scraping the bottom of the bowl now. "I like the paprika. Gives it bit of a kick."

Carol shrugged. "I was hoping it would mask the soup's…celery-ness," she mused, trying to fill the silence. "I didn't expect Carl would like it very much, but he went back for more. I think Rick just about keeled over from shock."

Carrie laughed only to be polite. The mention of Rick put her on edge again.

"How was watch?"

"Just fine," she smiled. "No trouble at all."

"That's good…it's been a long day."

"Yeah, it has," she agreed, still smiling.

There was a short pause, and almost instantly Carrie could feel the air change. Carol sighed, and when she spoke next it was with a tone she had never used for Carrie.

"You can wipe that polite smile off your face," she said frankly. "You don't have to pretend with me."

Immediately feeling defensive, Carrie hesitated before replying. "And yet, you pretend with me," she replied, feeling bold. She was taking a risk, daring Carol to admit that had spent the last six weeks masquerading.

"Touché. Shall we agree to no more bull shit?"

"After six weeks of Mrs Peletier? That would be nice."

Carol at least had the decency to seem apologetic. "So," she began, getting straight to it. "You're upset with Rick. You had fight, I take it."

"What makes you say that?"

"Well, I've never seen anyone insist so hard that they cover someone's watch shift, not even Sasha. Besides, Rick's been moody all evening, so I figure all's not well."

"Maybe he's mad at them," she muttered, gesturing out towards the other houses.

Carol shook her head. "No. Them he has handled. You, he does not."

"I'm something he needs to handle?"

"Well I bet he wishes he could," Carol remarked thoughtfully. "But I don't think he knows quite what to do with you."

"So, I take it that you know about us then."

"Of course," Carol nodded. "Didn't take me long to see it. I saw it in him before I even met you."

"That figures," she sighed, feeling disheartened. "You all know each other so well. He wouldn't keep anything from you."

Carol shrugged, taking a sip of her wine while she thought. "I wouldn't say that. I'm sure he has his secrets. I know I have some to keep from him."

"That's annoyingly intriguing," Carrie admitted in curiosity. "You two seem so…in sync with each other."

Carol scoffed at this, pursing her lips as she chuckled. "Yes. Most times we are," she admitted. "But lately, he and I disagree as much as we agree."

"Why's that?"

Pondering this, Carol answered thoughtfully. "Rick and I have become alike than people realise…more than we'd care to admit. That doesn't always work in our favour."

"Either way, I figure you know about him spying on Deanna."

Carol turned and looked at Carrie properly, almost her critiquing her. "Know about it? Oh, Carrie…" she chuckled in derision. "I'm the one who told him do it."

"Oh," she muttered, feeling rather disconcerted. She took a sip of her wine and gulped it down. "I wasn't expecting that."

"It might interest you to know that I'm also the one who suggested he not tell you about bringing in a Walker."

"That does interest me," she agreed, feeling the anger flare up again. "Why did you tell him to do that?"

"A few reasons. I knew you'd strongly advise him not to go ahead with it."

It was Carrie's turn to scoff. "Like I could sway him."

"You could have. Rick's a good leader, he listens to people. That's why when he was worried about the position he was putting you in, I strongly encouraged him not to tell you."

"The position he was putting me in?"

Carol nodded. "He was worried that you'd be…what's the phrase? Tarred by the same brush as he. He knew exactly what he was doing to himself, what he was potentially doing to all of us. If people thought you and I were involved in bringing the Walker in, it would have ruined every relationship we've built here."

Carrie didn't say anything for a few moments, her mind caught up in trying to figure out Carol's intentions. Either she somehow knew exactly what Rick and Carrie had said in their argument that day, or Carol knew him better than she admitted to. Everything she was saying all seemed a little too perfect, a little too supportive of Rick…and yet Carrie believed her. Despite her extensive masquerade, she trusted Carol.

"It wasn't personal," Carol added kindly. "Us not telling you, I mean. We've never seen your poker face before. I figured it was better to keep you out of it all together."

Though this was reassuring to hear, Carrie was not prepared to just let it all go. "Does he always do what you tell him to?"

Carol raised her eyebrows at this. "No. He's not a dancing monkey. But like I said, he does listen. Remember that."

"Was it your idea to warn me about Deanna's sudden need to talk with me? The day after the party?"

Carol shook hear head, stifling an amused laugh. "No, it was not. In fact, he and I had a rather enthusiastic argument about whether or not to warn you."

"You told him not to?"

"Yes. In fact, I vehemently told him not to. Like I said, he's no dancing monkey."

Taking a deep breath, Carrie sipped at her wine and looked out into the dark street, needing a moment to think. Carol had said quite a lot, giving her a great deal to think about. Rick hadn't spied on Deanna on his own, it wasn't only his decision to keep Carrie out of the loop that day…he and Carol were closer than she realised. While she'd always known that Carol masqueraded her pleasant persona in front of Carrie and the Alexandrians, she'd always been unsure of who she really was at heart. Tonight she was getting a glimpse of the real Carol. Cunning, methodical and perceptive…qualities Rick needed to have in his corner. Carol was just like the others in the group, always there to have Rick's back, to speak up when required, to support him and guide him.

Would that ever be Carrie's role? Would he ever turn to her for this kind of support?

"He treats me different from everyone else," Carrie muttered, unsure of why she was telling Carol of all people.

"Yes."

"I know he tries not to…and I wish he wouldn't."

"Yes," Carol agreed again.

Sipping at her wine, Carrie discarded her pride and asked, "Do you know why?"

There was an awkward silence now, and it was clear after a few moments that if Carol knew the answer, she wasn't sharing it. "You and Rick," she began instead. "Is it serious?"

"No," Carrie quickly said, ignoring the voice in her head that told her she was lying.

"Then it's a good thing Carl doesn't know. He doesn't need to hear about his dad's sex life…not if it doesn't mean anything."

Carrie could tell by the tone of her voice that Carol was pressing her, giving her another opportunity to tell her the truth. "It doesn't mean anything," she said quietly, those words harder to say than she expected.

Though Carol nodded in understanding, she also gave a long sigh. Carrie's heart pounded as she waited for Carol to say something else, perhaps to call her bluff or to press her again for honesty. Their conversation was far from a comfortable chat between two friends…Carrie felt like she was being tested, but she didn't know what for. Finally Carol cleared her throat and then sat up a little straighter, and Carrie knew that the woman meant business.

"I want you to be careful with Rick," she said lowly, her voice a clear warning.

Surprised, Carrie looked at her and raised an eyebrow "Thanks, but I can look after myself," she told her. "I know you over heard what I told Deanna a while back, about the things I did for my other group."

"Yes, I did," Carol confirmed, leaning closer a moment later. "But it's not you I'm concerned about. If you can let strangers use you for sex in order to protect your people, you don't need me telling you to be careful with your heart. Who I'm worried about, is Rick."

"Why?"

"Oh, sweet heart," Carol began, her tone borderline condescending. "He's not the kind of man who will settle for the relationship you have now."

"He's perfectly fine with it," she lied, trying to reassure Carol.

"I don't think he is," Carol disagreed. "I can see the way he looks at you, but I don't think he's ready to act on it yet. But sooner or later, he's going to want more from you."

"Oh," she muttered, not sure of what else to say. Carol's insight hit closer to home than she knew…thinking about that afternoon, Carrie was increasingly sure that Rick was going to say something meaningful about why he treated her differently.

"You need to decide soon, what you want from him," Carol warned, her tone still serious. "If you're telling me the truth and he means nothing significant to you, then do him a favour. Cut him off, now. Don't string him along if you don't want the same thing…I won't let that happen to him."

Feeling her throat tighten and her heart racing, Carrie just nodded. That wasn't what she was doing, but she couldn't seem to find her voice to say this.

"If you were lying, and he does mean something to you…then I'm happy for you both," Carol said, surprising her.

"But?" she managed to ask.

"There's always a but, isn't there?" she mused out loud, pausing before she continued. "If he does mean something to you, then do the both of you a favour. Don't ever try competing with Carl and Judith. Don't put yourself between them and him."

"I wouldn't," she said quickly, struggling to keep her voice even.

"You might find that happening without realising," she warned her.

Carrie firmly stood her ground. "I wouldn't do either of those things to him."

"Good."

Although on the surface it was perfectly pleasant, Carrie could detect the undertones in Carol's voice. Everything she had just said was a thinly veiled warning…Carol was threatening her without actually saying so, leaving Carrie feeling suitably intimidated. That was not a bad achievement from a woman wearing a fluffy, yellow robe.

"Let's not tell Rick we had this little chat," Carol suggested, patting Carrie on the knee before standing up. "Like I said, he and I still have our secrets from each other."

"What's one more?" Carrie muttered, nodding to indicate her agreement.

"Sleep well," Carol said, picking up her wine glass and the bottle of wine. As though they'd simply made innocent small talk, she began to leave, apparently unconcerned by any of it.

"Wait," Carrie blurted out, stopping Carol just as she crossed the threshold. Clutching her almost empty wine glass, she turned around and looked at her. "Do the others know about the bug that was in Deanna's house?"

"Some do. Some do not."

Carrie knew this was another warning, and so she nodded her head to indicate her understanding. "So, they know about what I did?" she asked, her throat tightening again as she started thinking about Granger and his group. "What I did with those men?"

Much to Carrie's surprise, a flicker of what looked like sympathy crossed Carol's face, her body language softening. Perhaps she wan't so uncaring after all. "No one else knows. Only Rick and I listened to any recordings."

This news made her frown. "They know about the bug, but they don't listen to it?" she clarified. "Don't they want to know?"

Carol shook her head. "They trust that if they need to know, they'll be told."

"That's a lot of trust to have in your group," she remarked softly.

"Yes."

"I've never had that with anyone," she confessed, unsure of why she was telling Carol of all people.

Again, Carol surprised her. "You have that with us."

Carrie nodded, taking a slow breath. "Thanks," she whispered.

There was an awkward pause now, Carol's mouth taut as she hovered in the threshold. She turned away to leave, but then just as quickly turned back. "Hey, if it makes any difference," she began, her voice kind. "I'm rooting for you two."

Carrie blinked at her, immensely surprised by this comment. "Thanks," she replied softly.

To her relief, Carol said nothing further, simply disappearing back inside and leaving their conversation at that. Finishing the rest of her wine, Carrie listened as her late night conversationalist put the bottle of wine back in the fridge and her wine glass in the dishwasher before returning to bed, but it was some time before she did the same. Turning her empty glass around and around in her fingers, she tried to think about everything that had happened that day, about what she and Rick had said and also what they didn't say. Now that Carol had stepped in too, everything just felt that much more complicated, putting Carrie completely on edge.

She didn't know what to do next…she wasn't even sure where she and Rick stood with one another. What was she supposed to say the next time she saw him? Certainly she couldn't avoid him forever. Would they just pretend nothing had happened? Would they ever talk about it, about what he had almost said to her? Groaning to herself and putting her face into her hands, Carrie knew that was unlikely…she might not know Rick as well as Carol did, but she suspected that if he was so uncertain he couldn't say whatever he wanted to that afternoon, then he wasn't going to say it any time soon. Upon reflection, she knew that she was much the same.

Though she'd known for weeks that she wanted more from their relationship, she also knew that she didn't want to rock the boat. Things were going well, and if they tried to take things further so much could go wrong. Carol's warning to her was clear…Rick was the one with the most to lose from a failed relationship, and he wasn't ready to act on anything he felt for her. This knowledge did little to help reassure Carrie, or to even point her in a particular path. On one hand she didn't ever want to hurt him…on the other hand, she didn't want to never live her life, and she knew he didn't want that either.

When she finally found the mental strength to get up, to return to the house she had been avoiding all evening, Carrie knew whatever happened next was going to be more difficult than either of them anticipated.

* * *

A/N I really hope you enjoyed this chapter, and sorry that things aren't so rosy for Rick and Carrie right now. Remember that this story has a slow burn romance, and that as a couple Rick and Carrie will have to endure some heart ache and struggles before they're truly worthy of being with one another. I'd love to hear your reviews, and thanks to those who leave their thoughts - especially my regulars. Thanks guys, see you again next week for chapter 22, another of my favourite ones to write!


	22. Chapter 22

Wide awake, Rick lay in his warm bed beside both his children, enjoying the peaceful serenity while ever it lasted. Through the gaps in the blind he could tell that the Saturday morning was dawning bright, that they were in for some good weather this weekend…it was a good thing too given their plans for later that day, a brief run out to the safe houses. It was essential that this run go well…they were taking one of the Alexandrian's with them…it had to go well. Incessantly worried about this, Rick turned onto his side as he felt Judith begin to rouse.

He smiled to himself as he watched her slowly waking up, seeing the way her eye lids fluttered open a couple of times before closing again. Letting her hold his finger in her firm grasp, he watched as she grunted and wiggled around for a moment, giving an awfully long sigh before taking her thumb out of her mouth. He knew what she'd do next, having watched her fall asleep or awaken many times. Stretching for a moment, she lay her arms up around her head as her eyes opened properly, and for a few short minutes she simply looked up at the ceiling, looking particularly peaceful. Watching the way she moved her fingers, opening and closing her fists, Rick cursed her for waking him up two hours ago, demanding he let her into the bed with him. Since then he hadn't been able to return to sleep, feeling wide awake despite the early hour.

"Good morning, Judy Pie," he whispered when she looked at him.

Sitting up a little, he pressed a kiss to her forehead, amused by the way she scrunched up her features as she felt his coarse stubble. As he knew she would, she turned over and faced Carl instead, sucking on her thumb while her other hand patted his arm. Seeing that it was almost time for him to get up anyway, Rick let Judith rouse her brother, smiling at the remarkably less graceful way he awoke. Grunting and telling her to go away, Carl rolled onto his side, giving an exasperated sigh when she followed him. Standing up, she leant over his waist and peered at him curiously, patting his elbow before finding her voice.

"Agh badh!" she told him loudly.

"Watch her for me," Rick instructed him, deciding to get up.

Although Carol groaned dramatically, he turned over again so he could watch his sister properly, letting Rick leave. While Judith repeatedly insisted Carl awaken, he slipped into the bathroom and started getting ready for another day he dreaded…right now, he dreaded the prospect of getting out of bed every morning, of facing the mistrust and anger of the Alexandrians. Yet he forced himself to, knowing that it would be worth it in the end. Things were progressing, and his confidence in them was growing. The load of dead weight his people were carrying was beginning to ease.

He turned on the shower and waited for the water to run warm, but no sooner than that did he hear a familiar pounding on the bathroom door, and it was with reluctance that he opened it and let Judith in. She greeted him stark naked, Carl at least having gone to the effort of removing her diaper before sending her in to bother Rick. He'd always anticipated she'd be a pain in the ass as soon as she started walking, and he was right. Thoroughly pleased, Judith strode straight into the bathroom and headed for the shower, making him hastily follow just in case the water was too hot. Turning on the second shower head and setting it to an appropriate temperature, he let her sit underneath the water and play with her bath toys, this routine of theirs having become annoyingly frequent.

While Judith played and babbled, Rick spent a little longer under the shower than he usually did, trying to delay the inevitable. Though he knew that he had gotten exactly what he wanted, that the Alexandrian's were begrudgingly participating in the firearms training, it was far from easy. Just over a week had passed since the Wolf's unexpected appearance, since he had brought a Walker into the community and laid out how things were going to change. Since then there had been a general sense of unrest in the community, and he knew he was the cause of it…at the very least he was the one they blamed. He was happy to bear that blame, less concerned about how well he was liked and more concerned about people's safety, but it wasn't an easy burden to bear. It wasn't exactly pleasant to be so openly disliked and mistrusted…he preferred the earlier wariness and overly polite smiles people used to give him, back when they disliked him in secret.

Carl was having a difficult time with it too, or so he suspected. Though on the surface he appeared not to have given the Wolf he shot a second thought, Rick knew otherwise. Carl had been rather pensive this week, frequently found looking off into the distance with an off expression on his face. He wondered what he was thinking about, if he was doubting what he had done…if he resented his father for asking him to do it in the first place. Certainly that hadn't been the position he intended to put his son in. He hadn't expected that the Wolf would evade them long enough to make it over towards the eastern watch post, that being the reason he had stationed Carl there. Unlike Rick who had stopped counting, he knew Carl kept a mental list of those he had killed…did he count the Wolf as an addition to his own list, or to Rick's?

Smoothing some shaving cream over his jaw, Rick tried to remind himself that the call he had made for Carl to shoot that man had been the right one. Tactically right to kill him…morally wrong to tell Carl to pull the trigger. But the pay off could not be denied. A week had passed without incident, and Alexandria remained safe from attack. The Wolf had not been able to return to his group and tell them what he had found, about the well established community with the walls and the Walker traps. Rick's difficult decision to ask his son to kill someone, and Carl's bravery to do it, had guaranteed their safety.

He ought to acknowledge properly that things were going reasonably well. The morning after he had brought the Walker inside the walls, the entire community had congregated down by the solar panels, and he was pleased to note that not one person had tried to avoid it. With his people managing the watch posts he had divided the community into two groups, sending those already proven competent with firearms off to help relocate the armoury while the others were kept behind. Their lessons in firearm safety had begun immediately, Rick and his group dividing the people up into smaller groups. All in all, he counted thirty one community residents who were at that particular lesson…literally half the community could not safely handle a gun, let alone protect themselves with one. That alone was the affirmation he needed that he was doing the right thing.

That lesson on basic safety had gone well, Rick stepping back a little and allowing his people to handle the ins and outs of it all. He occupied himself by going from group to group, double checking that everything was covered and that it all met his standards. In the end it didn't take more than an hour for him to see the Alexandrian's beginning to relax, with even the most vocal opponents beginning to settle in and simply get on with it. Even those like Barbara, who had so openly refused to let their children learn basic safety had watched on as their young children demonstrated what they had learnt.

Midweek the training had taken a step up, Rick initiating actual shooting lessons for the adults, disregarding their protests. The only concession he allowed was that for now, the lessons would take place inside the community rather than at a suitable place further away. This compromise seemed to be enough, and with the use of the suppressors the lessons had gone ahead despite the reluctance. Once again, Rick stepped back and allowed his people to conduct the training, knowing they were far more well liked than he was. Besides, none of the lessons would quite live up to the one he had given Carrie when they were at the prison.

Groaning under his breath Rick rinsed the last of the shaving cream off his face as he thought about Carrie, wishing that this problem was as easy to manage as the Alexandrians. The fight they'd had in the RV…they hadn't spoken about that at all in the week that had passed. In fact, they'd hardly spoken at all unless in passing. As if nothing had happened at all, they resumed their former platonic friendship, not taking things any further given how chaotically busy their week had been. There'd been no opportunity for them to be alone, no time in which they could steal kisses in empty hallways or sneak out to the RV. Even if they weren't so busy, Rick had his doubts that they'd be doing those things anyway.

He had no idea where they stood with one another. As they hadn't talked about it their argument in the RV remained completely unresolved, and no doubt she still harboured resentment for the things she had come to learn that day. Filled with shame about it all, Rick knew he was a coward, that rather than take a risk with Carrie he had chosen to run away instead. She had caught him in a weak moment, demanding to know why he was treating her differently from everyone else in their group. He had intended to tell her the truth, to take a chance and tell her that things had changed for him, but the words "I care about you," didn't seem to be enough. On the other hand, the notion that perhaps he was beginning to fall in love with her was too enormous to comprehend, let alone actually say out loud.

In the end he had taken the coward's way out, simply leaving in the middle of everything and ignoring her when she called after him. He was glad she chose not to follow him in that moment, for he wasn't sure how he would have handled that. On one hand he imagined himself bearing all to her in the middle of the street, impaled Walkers only a few yards away, but on the other hand he could see himself lashing out, telling her to piss off or something equally awful. Knowing what he was like when someone pushed him harder than they should, he was glad she had chosen not to follow him.

The bathroom door opened suddenly, interrupting Rick from his brooding. When he looked around and saw Carl entering to use the toilet he tried not to get annoyed with him, but that was easier said than done. Between the two of his children it felt like he couldn't get a single moment of privacy, with one of them usually interrupting him during various things. While they were living on the road privacy was almost non existent, but since their return they had each scrambled for every ounce of it they could get…Carl was normally more considerate. But for the last three days he'd been driving Rick up the wall every chance he got.

"Don't you dare flush that toilet!" Rick said loudly, seeing him reaching for the handle.

Stopping halfway, Carl shrugged before turning around to wash his hands. Being patient, Rick washed his hair and checked on Judith, suspecting that any minute now she'd ask for her hair to be washed too, always wanting to do what everyone else did. As he heard a familiar sound, he looked over his shoulder to see Carl standing at the sink brushing his teeth, and Rick's eyes narrowed as spots of toothpaste appeared on the mirror. That had always been Lori's pet hate…if she could see Carl now she'd grab him by the ear and hand him a bottle of Windex. _Did he have to brush his teeth right now?_

"What do you do with mouth wash?" Carl asked a short while later, peering at the back of the bottle.

"Aren't you reading the instructions?"

"Yeah, but I want to know how _you_ do it."

"I do it the way the instructions say," he replied lowly, his patience almost at an end.

Resisting the urge to tell Carl to quit being a pain in the ass, Rick instead let him fall victim to his own curiosity. Knowing he had only ever tasted the alcohol-free mouthwash, he watched from the corner of his eye as Carl poured some green liquid into the cap and then tipped it into his mouth. His reaction was spectacular, for seconds later he was coughing and gagging over the sink, the green liquid dripping down his chin as he dove for the tap.

"There's nothing quite like that Listerine burn, is there?" Rick mused in satisfaction.

Still coughing, Carl nodded as his eyes watered. "Mmm…yeah," he managed to say, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand. His pride having taken enough of a hit for so early in the morning, he began to leave.

"There are four other bathrooms in this house, Carl," Rick called out to him. "You catch my drift?"

Carl nodded. "Drift caught," he promised, closing the door behind him.

Glad to have his privacy back, Rick ran his hands over his face and neck, feeling for any stubble he had missed before reluctantly turning off the running water. He wrapped his towel around his waist and then bundled Judith up into hers, drying off her hair as they reentered the bedroom. Carl lay on the bed reading a comic book, only half dressed with a sock hanging off the end of his foot, the sight making Rick smile to himself. It reminded him of when Carl was younger, of the difficulty he and Lori had in getting him to concentrate long enough to fully dress himself. He was always finding something more exciting to do, usually something that didn't involve wearing pants. When they left him alone to dress himself they'd often check on him a few minutes later and find him playing with his toys in just his underwear and socks. In that moment Rick felt bad for getting so annoyed with him a few minutes ago…that feeling didn't last.

"Carl," he growled under his breath, his frustration blooming again. Judith sat on the floor dressed and waiting for him to finish up. "Where are my socks?"

"I dunno."

Gritting his teeth, Rick made a point of walking around to Carl's nightstand and opening the drawer there, unsurprised to find that their socks were mixed in together. "When Carol tells you to put our clean laundry away, could you at least try to sort it properly?" he scolded in annoyance, grabbing his socks out and putting them into his own drawer. "Carl?"

Carl actually went to the effort of lowering his comic and looking up. "Sorry," he apologised.

Deciding he sounded sincere enough, Rick let it slide. "Hurry up and get dressed," he said a few minutes later, fixing the loops that secured his duty belt to his regular belt. When Carl didn't respond, Rick's impatience grew. "Carl! Get dressed."

"Yeah, alright," he sighed, closing his comic book. As he got up from the bed, Rick heard him grumbling under his breath.

"What was that?" he asked, daring him to repeat it.

"Nothing."

"Better not have been," Rick muttered darkly, praying for patience as he bent down and picked up Judith.

Adjusting her dress, he kissed her cheek as they left, trying to remember who had been organised to baby sit her that day. Was Carol looking after her, or was it Maggie again? The other bedroom doors were wide open, indicating that their occupants had already risen and had likely departed by now…their household didn't linger for a leisurely breakfast at the moment, not with so much going on. In a strange occurrence, Rick was the last adult to rise that morning.

Reaching the ground floor, he braced himself upon hearing laughter, specifically Carrie's laughter. Also hearing the sound of Daryl's low rumbling voice, Rick remembered that he was waiting for him, that the two of them had planned to go on rounds together outside the walls. He and Aaron had returned home the night before, three days past their agreed upon two week check in. Once they'd stopped fussing over them and they each had stomachs full of hot food, they'd set about filling them in on what had happened the previous weekend, and on the changes that were being implemented. They both seemed suitably surprised and shocked in all the right places, but Rick also noticed the flicker of guilt that flashed across Daryl's face, particularly when he heard Carl had been the one who shot the Wolf. What Rick had said about needing Daryl in Alexandria had proven true, much to Daryl's chagrin.

Later that evening, Rick had joined Daryl on the porch where he was smoking. Still feeling sore about the fact Daryl had left in the first place, the asshole inside Rick wanted to ask about how well the recruiting had gone, even though he already knew they had found no one. Nevertheless he did the right thing and simply cracked open a beer for each of them. The two of them sat in silence together, both glad that Daryl had been able to return safely.

Entering the kitchen, he saw Daryl seated at the island bench with a piece of toast in hand, and Carrie pouring coffee into a travel mug. Almost immediately her smile of amusement faded into one of polite disinterest. The atmosphere changed quickly and without warning, the discomfort putting Daryl on edge. He seemed to sit up a little straighter, unconsciously brushing his hair out of his eyes so he could see them both of them better.

"G'morning," Rick automatically said, holding Judith on his hip as he fetched her highchair.

"Good morning," Carrie replied politely, putting the lid on her travel mug. There was an awkward pause as Rick put Judith into her chair and made her put aside her stuffed duck. "Would you like some coffee?" she offered.

"No, thank you," he replied courteously, adjusting the tray for Judith. _I'll pour my own damn coffee._

"Okay," she muttered, putting the pot back in the cradle. "Well I'll see you guys around. Nice to have you back, Daryl."

He grunted and jerked his head, his usual response, but for Carrie he actually managed a smile too. When she left the house and her footsteps faded, Daryl turned and looked at Rick expectantly, clearly waiting for an explanation. "Brrrr," he said dramatically, shivering for added effect.

Making Judith some oatmeal, Rick avoided eye contact. "Shut up."

Daryl shrugged. "What turned Blondie into the ice queen?"

"Nothing."

There was a short pause, and Daryl snorted under his breath. "I see," he muttered, looking at Judith now. "Daddy fucked up, didn't he?"

"Daryl," he started, his tone one of warning as he heard Carl racing down the stairs two at a time. "Where are you going in such a rush?" he asked when his son entered the kitchen.

"Nowhere," Carl answered, sounded confused as he headed for the pantry. "Dammit…there's no peanut butter left?"

"Judith ate the last of it yesterday," Rick told him. "Go get some from the other house."

Carl huffed as he headed for the door. "Sure, if Maggie hasn't eaten it all out of the jar."

He and Daryl watched Carl stride out the door with hunger in mind, and there was a long moment of silence before Daryl turned back to his coffee. "Maggie's showing a bit more," he commented.

"She's twenty two weeks now."

Daryl nodded, but said nothing more on the subject of her. "Hey, uhh," he started tentatively. "You think Carl might 'ave been stealing my smokes?"

Rick looked up in alarm, and he experienced a moment of horror before realising. Feeling guilty, he avoided eye contact as he answered. "No…that was me."

Daryl gave a short sigh, rolling his eyes to himself. "What happen t'yah high horse?"

"I'm still on my high horse. I just fall off now and then," he concluded lamely.

"Right," Daryl nodded, taking a bite of his toast. "Carl driving you nuts, isn't he?"

"You have no idea."

"He misses yah."

Rick paused, parental guilt rearing it's ugly head. "You think so?" he enquired, having not considered this.

"Mmmm," Daryl nodded, looking at Judith again. "When I was a kid, I used t' annoy the shit out of Merle, just to have his attention, yah know?"

"Ouch," Rick muttered lowly, realising Daryl was suggesting he'd been neglecting Carl.

"Just sayin'," he apologised, shrugging. "He said to me y'all been real busy last couple of weeks."

Sipping his coffee, Rick thought about this a little, knowing that Daryl's observation had merit…he was probably right. For all the worry he'd felt about Carl, about how he was doing after shooting the Wolf and how he was holding up with all the mistrust and restlessness in the community, he hadn't actually done anything about it. Always so focused on trying to solve the root problem, often times he forgot to mitigate the collateral damage that came with it. Michonne often told him that he didn't see the forest for the trees…perhaps Carl was driving him nuts over the last three days in attempt to get his attention. When Carl returned home a few minutes later with a jar of peanut butter, Rick took the time to observe him from the corner of his eye. He was acting perfectly normal, though perhaps that's what should worry him.

"Who are you working with today?" Rick enquired a few minutes later.

Taking a seat at the island bench beside Daryl, Carl chewed on his breakfast and hastily swallowed. "Abraham. We're learning how to change flat tyres."

Daryl turned and looked at him, his nose screwed up. "You know t' do that," he said gruffly. "I taught yah, didn't I? On the supply run."

"He's showing us how to do it without a jack," he answered, turning back to Rick now. "What about you? You doing the guns again?"

Rick paused, considering his next move. "Actually, I was thinking of staying in today, maybe watch a movie."

Carl nodded, looking back at his breakfast as he continued eating. Though he was playing it cool, Rick could tell his interest was piqued, that he was waiting with bated breath.

"You wanna watch with me?"

He caught the moment that a smile crossed Carl's face, and he was glad to see it there. "What are we watching?"

"What do you want to watch?" he enquired, hoping this didn't turn into a never ending back and forth the way it used to with Lori.

"What about…Reservoir Dogs?"

Rick choked on his coffee. "Over my dead body," he said weakly.

"Why?" Carl protested, genuinely confused. "It's a National Geographic special."

While Daryl burst out laughing, Rick just shook his head in exasperation. "Who told you that?"

"Abraham."

"It's not a documentary, and don't believe everything Abraham tells you. Pick something else."

"What about, Lord of the Rings? That's your favourite book, right?"

Rick scoffed, more and more amused by the second. "You won't make it through that," he remarked, knowing they had taken the special edition version from Walmart. "It's three and a half hours."

"Oh. No thank you."

"I'll pick the movie," he decided, finishing his coffee when he saw Daryl was done with his breakfast. "Maybe something more age appropriate for you. Peter Pan or something."

"Mary Poppins," Daryl suggested.

"Toy Story."

Carl sighed. "You guys suck, but fine."

Chuckling under his breath, Rick kissed Judith on the head and then picked up her fallen sippy cup from the floor. "You take the day off too. Watch your sister for the morning, wear her out completely so she can take her nap while we watch the movie."

"What time will you be home?"

"Ten thirty," he answered as he and Daryl prepared to leave. Going to the cupboard by the front door, Rick opened the safe on the top shelf and took out his Colt before passing Daryl his preferred side arm. "Do your chores," he reminded Carl. "I'll tell Abraham we're ditching today."

Doubling back to kiss Judith goodbye a second time, Rick and Daryl left promptly, glad that they didn't have to make a detour past the armoury to collect their weapons. With the changes Rick had made, approved persons were allowed to carry guns inside the walls, although the rightful safety measures were to be implemented. Each relevant house was now fitted with a gun safe where they would stow their weapons while they were home, and as the supply runners scavenged for more safes, soon all houses would have one. Whether they liked it or not, every Alexandrian would have quick and easy access to a weapon should they need it. Nevertheless, the safes would remain empty until Rick was certain that everyone knew how to use one safely, and that they could be trusted…that wouldn't be for some time he suspected.

It was a little past seven thirty in the morning, and the rest of Alexandria was only just beginning to rouse. Catching a few glimpses of his people, Rosita, Sasha and Noah setting up for machete training while Abraham set up for lessons in changing tyres, Rick was pleased by how seamlessly they were working together. Managing his group was by far the easiest part of the last week, with everyone either automatically knowing where they were needed, or taking the initiative to ask. Like they always had, they worked together remarkably well.

"Mr Dixon!" Bob called out as they walked past his house. Putting his newspaper down in his lap, Bob slowly raised his hand to Daryl and called out to him again. "Good to see you back, son."

Daryl's eyes just about popped out of his head, and he looked at Bob in utter confusion, though thanks to his poorly eye sight Bob couldn't tell. Recovering quickly, Daryl awkwardly jerked his head and raised his hand a little, his pace speeding up in order to get past the house. Trying not to laugh at his expense, Rick raised his hand and waved to Bob too.

"Has he lost it?" Daryl enquired, the two of them heading towards the watch tower. "You know he reads those old newspapers every day. Ain't gonna be nothing new in them."

"It's his routine. Not even the collapse of civilisation is going to stop that man reading his newspaper."

As soon as the left the guard tower and stepped into the world outside, Daryl seemed to breathe in gratefully. Though the air outside the walls was no different to the air inside, Rick understood what it was he could taste…freedom. He felt the same way every time he stepped outside the walls, though it tasted a little less sweet in the last week. They set off around the walls, both of them on high alert, their eyes scanning their surroundings even more carefully than normal. Despite their confidence in being able to detect Walkers, the were a little less comfortable with the idea of Wolves sneaking around, potentially taking them by surprise.

"So, what's the story with you an' Carrie?"

Rick raised his eyebrows at this question, wishing Daryl hadn't voiced it. Normally making rounds together was easy and uncomplicated, and almost silent too. He had been looking forward to a quiet companion on their walk around the walls.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, me and her were having a pleasant chat this mornin'…then you come down and it's like there's a fire under her ass. Couldn't get out of there fast enough, could she?"

Rick didn't immediately reply. "We had a fight last week."

"Mmmm?"

"She said things, I said things…"

"So?"

Rick sighed, wishing he knew what to say. "Well, I….I don't really know where we stand."

"The sex gone bad, has it?"

"No," he answered honestly.

"Then what are you two fighting about? I thought it was just sex between you two."

This remark elicited another sigh from Rick. "It is," he insisted despite evidence to the contrary.

Daryl snorted. "Yeah right. If it's just sex, then why you fighting?"

Rick started to say something, but he lost his trail of thought, knowing any argument he tried to make had no merit. It seemed his silence said enough, for Daryl gave a dramatic sigh and shook his head.

"I fuckin' told you," he reminded him gruffly. "Didn't I tell you? A booty call between friends always gets ugly."

"It's not getting ugly."

"No, but she's getting feelings, ain't she?" he asked. "I told you that would happen."

"Thing is," Rick sighed, avoiding Daryl's gaze. "She's not the one causing the problems."

"Oh," Daryl muttered in surprise, looking taken aback. There was an awkward pause, Daryl averting his eyes as they stepped down from the pavement and headed into the woods. "So it's you? You the one with…expectations?"

Rick nodded, unable to believe he was making this admission. But his nod of agreement brought him an immense sense of relief, glad to have gotten that off his chest. "Yeah," he muttered, his relief growing as he verbalised it. "I am."

Hesitating, Daryl tentatively asked, "She shoot you down? She not interested?"

Clearing his throat, Rick scratched the back of his neck, squinting at the morning sun as he looked around. "I don't know actually."

"You ain't said nothing?"

"No."

There was silence for a short while, giving them both a reprieve that allowed them to think, and then Daryl asked, "Why not?"

"Because I'm a coward," Rick openly admitted.

"Okay, I can see that."

There was silence again, and finally Rick looked at him. "What? No advice?"

"From me?" Daryl said, appearing alarmed by the very thought. "Fuck man, the last woman I had was a piece of ass I picked up in a bar. We screwed in an alleyway. I ain't no romantic."

"An alleyway? Really?"

"The bathroom was occupied."

"You're a great help, thank you."

Daryl sighed apologetically, taking his crossbow down from his shoulder. "Alright. This is the only advice Merle ever gave me that was worth the breath."

"I'm listening."

"Don't shit where you eat," he said bluntly, raising his crossbow and taking down a Walker. Marching over to it, he yanked the bolt out, wiped it clean on his red rag, and then reloaded it. "You want to have a piece of ass, I applaud that. But yah just inviting complications by banging a woman you actually like."

Rick grit his teeth, wanting to tell Daryl that Carrie was more than a piece of ass. "You recommend I go and bang Shelly instead?"

"It'd be less complicated. If you don't actually like the woman, then you ain't gonna get warm and fuzzy about her."

The conversation lapsed for a short while, the two of them continuing their walk in silence. Ten minutes passed in the peaceful companionship Rick had been looking forward to, the two of them diverting from their path around the walls to check on the Walker pits. They were getting full, and they'd need to come back later with their long machetes to put them down. After covering the corpses with a good sprinkling of lye and then soil, the pits would be ready for the next bout of Walkers to fall in. With his movie day with Carl in mind, Rick wondered who he should assign to the task, wondering if he would have time that afternoon to handle it himself. Mentally running through his mental schedule of responsibilities, he wondered if perhaps he should bring Carl out with him. Carl jumped at any opportunity to get outside the walls, and he never turned down a request for help with a task…he was good like that, always working hard. The more he thought about this the more the paternal guilt he felt grew. He had been neglecting time with his son, and now he was trying to fix it with one movie and then chores. He was going about this all wrong, he sh-

"Wait, hold up," Daryl interrupted his thoughts, slowing his pace and peering at him inquisitively. "If you and Carrie ain't fightin' about sex, and you ain't fighten' about you getting warm and fuzzy…what are yah fighten' about?"

Having hoped Daryl wouldn't ask, Rick gave a short laugh and cast his mind back to their extensive argument from last week. "She was kind of upset when she realised she was the only one that I didn't tell about bringing the Walker into the meeting."

Daryl nodded. "Understandable."

"I agree. She was also kind of upset when she figured out I'd been spying on Deanna…then she was really upset when she figured out I'd listened to a private conversation between her and Deanna."

Daryl blew out a low whistle, nodding in awe. "You hit a trifecta there. Did she yell?"

"A lot."

"She cry?"

"No."

"Thank Christ for small miracles, eh? So since then you just been not talking?"

Rick shook his head. "We've been talking just fine…in fact, things are perfectly polite and civil."

"But no hot and heavy then?"

Rick shook his head again. There had definitely been no sex since the argument.

"And what did she do to you? What have you got to be pissed at her for?"

Dwelling on this, Rick slipped his hands into his pockets and looked around, trying to be fair about it. At first he'd been mad for the way she had looked at him with what felt like mistrust, for the way she had avoided his gaze in the infirmary with the Wolf and then the hours after. While a part of him was still mad at her for this, a larger part told him to leave it alone, that he couldn't resent her for feeling perfectly normal emotions in an extreme situation like that. Thinking back to their argument again, he tried to find fault in her, to find a misstep that would warrant anger on his part…he struggled to find one.

"Well," he started slowly. "I'm really not a fan of the way she called me on all my shit."

Daryl snorted at this. "Women get pissed about the stupidest things… _So what if I screwed your sister? I screwed your cousin too_."

Rick gasped at this remark, barely containing a burst of horrified laughter. "Daryl!"

"That was Merle," he said defensively, though Rick could see him grinning. "I got class, alright? I tell a woman upfront if I'm screwing her sister."

"You're unbelievable."

"That's what they said about me."

The two of them laughing, Rick began to feel considerably better, his mood having lifted with the conversation, despite no solution having been found. He knew of course that he would miss Daryl while he was gone recruiting, but he hadn't realised exactly to what extent. Now that he was back, Rick could tell that he'd spent the last two weeks feeling slightly out of place. He hadn't realised exactly how much he depended on Daryl for the little things like this, the moments where they laughed and shared advice, no matter how ill advised or unsolicited.

"Thank you," he said sincerely, hoping Daryl understood how much he really meant it.

Daryl just grunted and jerked his head, this motion conveying that he likely did understand. "So, how much dignity did you lose when you apologised?"

It seemed Daryl's helpfulness had not quite ceased, and when this uncomfortable question was voiced, Rick chose not to answer it. Instead he looked away and cleared his throat, his silence an admission of guilt.

"Fuck me," Daryl muttered under his breath. "You ain't apologised to her?"

"Well, I…" he started awkwardly. "I don't really feel I have anything to apologise for."

"Wasn't she the only one you didn't tell about bringing in the Walker?"

"No, I didn't tell Eugene either. So, she wasn't the only one," he concluded lamely.

"So she rates as low as Eugene, huh? Hope you didn't say that to her."

"Actually, she reached that conclusion all on her own."

"And you don't think that deserves an apology?"

"It was for her own good," he tried to explain. "I didn't want her to know, so that she could honestly deny knowing. I didn't want people hating her too."

He scoffed at this. "Didn't yah care about them hating the others then? Why you treatin' her different?"

Rick glared at him from the corner of his eye. "You know what, you sound just like she did," he muttered petulantly. "You're meant to be on my side."

"Even if you're wrong?"

"Especially if I'm wrong."

"Right, I'll keep in mind that yah don't want the truth. Got it…but you ain't going to apologise for that?" he clarified. "It'll probably help," he remarked when Rick remained silent.

He shrugged without commitment.

"So what else she mad about? You bugging Deanna's place?"

"Yes, and I'm not apologising for that. It had nothing to do with Carrie," he said bluntly.

"Alright," he conceded. "But you did say you listened in on her too."

"I had my reasons."

"I'm sure you did…she won't see it that way."

Sighing, Rick nodded in agreement. "No, she didn't, funnily enough."

"Maybe that's callin' for an apology then."

They approached the gate of Alexandria, bringing to an end their time outside. The gate was open, a couple of people lingering inside as Aidan, Glenn and Nicholas departed to deal with the Walkers that had been impaled on spikes. Considering everything Daryl had said, Rick slowly nodded. "Maybe."

"Might get you back in her pants at least."

Rick gave a short laugh, amused that Daryl thought this was a priority. "It might," he acknowledged, the two of them heading for the open gate. "Thank you," he said again.

Daryl just shrugged, slowing to a stop and lingering awkwardly. "I might stay out a while," he decided, squinting as he looked around. "Check the snares."

Having seen this coming, Rick nodded without protest. Daryl had been home barely twelve hours, and already he was reluctant to stay inside the walls. He turned to leave, but he made it only a few steps before he slowed and looked back, Rick watching on in amused interest. Daryl appeared to hesitate, looking a little uncomfortable.

"You know, I ain't sayin' don't get warm and fuzzy about her," he started awkwardly. "Just…don't sit on the fence about it neither."

Daryl had no idea how close to home this remark was…that was exactly what Rick was doing. Carrie had called him on the way he treated her, on the small gestures of unnecessary protectiveness he made for her. He had owned up to it, he'd admitted that he did indeed treat her differently, but he'd avoided her most important question, _why?_ Rather than give her the answer she needed, he'd fled the scene like a coward, too uncertain of himself to take a chance. Though he tried to take on board everything Daryl had said, he questioned whether he was capable of acting on any of it.

"You want to watch the movie with Carl and I?" he offered, changing the subject.

Predictably, Daryl scoffed at the mere thought. "Nah, thanks. I might go check out the safe houses with Carrie and the others. See yah."

Raising his hand in farewell, Rick watched him go for a moment before heading inside. Heading around Alexandria, he checked in with a couple of his group members who were out preparing for the day ahead. He stopped and checked in with Abraham first, letting him know that he was going to spend the latter part of the morning with Carl before telling the others. As he expected he might, he got nods of approval from all, no one bothering him about his intention to sit out the majority of the day. In the back of his mind, he wondered if they too had noticed how much Carl was missing him, that he was trying to get his attention…if they had, he wished that had said something earlier.

He occupied the rest of the morning by attending to a few different tasks, keeping himself busy, but not inflicting his company on any of the Alexandrians. The gun training started again at nine thirty, Rosita and Sasha taking point with residents like Shelly and Barbara who were most resistant. Today they focused on drawing a weapon from its holster, on getting it ready as swiftly and efficiently as possible, and Rick simply watched from afar, pleased by the progress being made. Thinking about the run being made out to the safe houses, he made a point of checking in with Glenn when he came back inside the walls, reminding him that he could ditch their unexpected guest if he wasn't confident with them.

The Alexandrian that Rick was most proud of was Anna, who was about the only one who'd taken a keen interest in learning how to protect herself. It was clear that what Rick had said to her had great impact, and following the meeting and the incident with the Walker, Anna was determined to ensure that she could protect her daughter, that she didn't have to depend on anyone else to do it for her. She was the only one who participated enthusiastically, although this enthusiasm was typically infused with a certain amount of timidity and nervousness. Though he hadn't pushed anyone to start learning how to kill Walkers, Anna had brought it up with him again, asking when her next lesson would be.

But today, her first and most daunting task was going to be departing Alexandria. She was joining the group of people who were going out to check on the safe houses. With Rick's refusal to draw anyone a map, lest that type of thing fall into the wrong hands, Anna had reluctantly agreed that she would ride along with the others. She'd be covered head to toe in riot gear, and she likely wouldn't step foot out of the car, but she was going. To Rick, this was an incredible step forward, and from one of the last people he had expected. Anna had always been meek and timid in personality, and yet she was the first and only Alexandrian to step up and willingly cooperate with Rick…and he had Carrie to thank for that.

Reaffirming his belief that keeping her out of his plans for the Walker had not only protected her from hatred, but had protected the relationships she had fostered, Carrie had been spending a great deal of time with Anna over the last week. It was with Carrie's encouragement and support that Anna was joining the run crew today, that she was stepping up and taking charge of her family's safety. With any luck, Carrie's encouragement and Anna's good example would influence the others into following in her footsteps.

Rick's morning progressed a little too quickly, and before he knew it he had missed the ten thirty deadline of when Carl was expecting him home. Struggling to finish up with his various tasks at an efficient speed, Rick made his excuses and finally managed to get away. Leaving the bustle of activity behind, he headed for the pantry and met up with Olivia, telling her what it was that he needed. Always so pleased to be showing someone through their stockpile, she lead him to the first floor of the townhouse where they kept the clothing, shoes, household items and DVDs.

"They're arranged by genre, and then alphabetically," Olivia told him, proudly showing the tall shelves of neatly arranged DVD cases.

"That's great, thank you," he said politely, his eyes already scanning the titles for something that might interest Carl.

"Carrie did them," she added. "What that woman can do with a label maker…"

Rick nodded and smiled politely, feeling a little awkward at this mention of Carrie. It appeared Olivia felt the same awkwardness too, but he doubted Carrie was the reason.

"Okay," she said quickly. "So just write down on that notepad what you're taking…take as many as you like."

"Thanks Olivia."

He breathed a sigh of relief when she left, glad the awkwardness was over. Turning back to the DVDs, he slowly scanned the titles, feeling the corners of his mouth turning upwards as he remembered the better days before the outbreak, times when he and Lori would curl up on the couch to watch a new release, or when he and Shane would drive to the nearest cinema to watch the new Bourne movie. Feeling nostalgic, he let his fingers linger on The Bourne Identity, wondering if it was too mature for Carl to watch. Always unsure of what he should and should not try to protect him from, he moved on and kept looking. Moving past the other titles that caught his attention, he scanned over the titles, making note of the ones Carl might enjoy until he found the perfect one. Remembering a conversation the two of them had a few months ago on the supply run, he selected the DVD and then scanned the shelves for some other titles he had in mind, figuring he'd give Carl the choice among his selection.

When he wrote down the titles he had taken for Olivia, Rick slowly made his way across the townhouse back towards the stairs, figuring he ought to see if there was any microwave popcorn in the pantry. He remembered they had found some boxes in Walmart, but had any of them been put into the regular rotation yet, or would he have to search through the masses of food stored in the other garage? Reading the back of one DVD, he slowed to a stop at the top of the staircase that lead to the basement, heading what sounded like a heated discussion. Standing in silence, he looked at the blank wall ahead of him and listened carefully, trying to determine who it was. The voices were coming from downstairs in what used to be the armoury, a room now being refitted to be a small office for Olivia and extra storage for the pantry.

"….no, I'm not talking about talking," someone said passionately, trying to keep their voices low. "…we need to do something…"

"Stop it. You're being dramatic," came a voice he recognised as Tobin's.

"Am I?" the first person asked. They said something else that Rick couldn't hear, but their volume began to rise again. "…convinced her to go out with them."

"That's up to her," someone else said softly. "Besides, my Mom said it was fine."

"She doesn't know what she's getting herself into!" another person hissed.

Rick recognised the first voice as Carter. Judging by the tone and secrecy he was picking up on, he figured this was another expression of the tension and unrest that had grown in Alexandria over the last week. He had always known that bringing in a Walker to make his point would not earn him any friends, that it would potentially turn people against him, at least between now and when he was eventually proven right. Just as he expected, the majority of the unrest occurred behind closed doors in people's homes, the residents worried and mistrustful of Rick's group, but of him in particular. That was why he was taking a step back from the actual teaching of the lessons, why he simply coordinated the tasks he wanted completed and supervised the quality.

Nevertheless it seemed there were still many whose fears about him were not alleviated. Only yesterday Tobin had come to him at home, warning him about the growing tension among the residents. At Tobin's suggestion, Rick had agreed to ease up on his insistence that the Alexandrian's make runs out to the safe houses, that he allow this to be postponed for a week or so until their confidence could grow and the tension could settle. Having intended to be flexible and adjust to the general atmosphere of the community he had agreed, albeit reluctantly. Though Anna was joining them on their run out to the safe houses, no one was forcing or coercing her into it. But it seemed all was still not well.

"I'm telling you," someone continued, lowering their voice again. "We have to do something!"

"Ease up," Tobin muttered. "I'll go on the run with her, alright? Would that help put you at ease?"

"Why don't we talk to my Mom?" Spencer suggested.

"We can't depend on Deanna," Michael tried to whisper. "She won't go up against him."

"You should have heard what he told her after he brought that Roamer in here…he said she's not really in charge, he is."

"Carter, you can trust these people," Francine whispered loudly. "I've been out there with them. Anna is going to be fine."

"They're forcing her," someone else said. "He's poisoned her mind, don't you see? He's got her convinced that some thing bad is going to happen."

"It's up to us," Carter said lowly. "We have to take care of this, alright? We have to do something!"

Deciding he had heard enough, Rick began descending the stairs, doing everyone down there a favour by making sure his approach was easily heard. As his footsteps echoed downstairs the voices hushed immediately, and so he fixed a perfectly pleasant expression on his face as he looked up and saw the group of people in the now empty armoury. Crowded in there was Tobin, Carter, Spencer, Francine and Michael, and when they saw Rick coming down the stairs most of them averted their eyes, looking rather uncomfortable. They seemed rather taken aback by his unannounced arrival, and given that Olivia was no where to be seen, he figured they didn't know he was upstairs.

He didn't pretend he hadn't heard, but nor did he throw this in their faces…doing that wouldn't help any of them. It was clear they they were planning something, and given that they knew he had over heard, Rick figured he had brought himself some time. This would need to be addressed, for as reluctant as he was to admit he was wrong, Carrie was right. Having lost the trust of these people meant that he was backing them into a corner, even though he knew he was doing the right thing for them. They feared him, and they did what any scared person would consider…they were planning to do something about the threat. He had anticipated this of course, he had known he was opening himself up for a world of trouble, but he felt sufficiently prepared to handle it. All he had to do was spend some time with Carl today and then he would do something about it…he'd consult with the rest of the group, let them know what he had overheard. For now though he would be safe. No one would try anything while he was at home with his children, of that much he was certain.

"Everything alright?" he asked pleasantly, reaching the basement floor and walking past the empty armoury.

As he expected, everyone averted their eyes except for Tobin, who simply looked at Rick with an apologetic expression. Giving him a nod that indicated both his understanding and his gratitude for what he had said, Rick left things at that and headed down the hallway. Unaware of the meeting being held in her new office, Olivia was working in the garage, frowning at a spreadsheet and graph on the computer.

"How did you go?" she asked cheerfully, smiling when he showed her the selection he had chosen. "Oh, Tom Hanks. You have good taste."

"Thanks. I was hoping we'd have some microwave popcorn?"

"Ahhh, going all the way, are we? Do you want salted or sweet?" she enquired, getting up and leading him into the garage next door. Knowing exactly where it was, she headed into the enormous stock pile of food that wasn't yet in rotation and opened up one of the boxes.

"Salted, please."

"Ah huh, salted," she declared triumphantly, taking a packet out of a box and tossing it to him. "There you go."

"Thanks Olivia," he said politely, glad she had found it. "Have a good day."

"Oh, hey…Rick?" she said awkwardly, catching him as he started to leave.

Somewhat apprehensive about what she wanted, he turned back and looked to her. "Yeah?"

Returning to the road outside and then closing the roller door, Olivia lingered awkwardly before speaking again. "About last week, at the meeting? I just wanted to say…thanks for not blaming me about the armoury," she said in a rush, sounding relieved to get it off her chest. "I know that me not being there to open it for you made things a bit hairy…but thanks for not blaming me."

He nodded, appreciating her gratitude…it wasn't often shown to him. "Any blame would have been unjustified," he told her, although at the time he had been livid by her absence. "We can't expect you to be there twenty four seven."

She nodded in agreement. "Well, I've got to say, it is nice not having to get out of bed every time the watch shift changes."

Rick grinned on the inside, this strategy having been a long term solution for wearing Olivia down until she cracked. By causing her as much bother as possible, they'd been planning to take the armoury out of her control regardless of what happened last week.

"I'll see you around," she said awkwardly, letting him go.

Departing with more thanks for the popcorn, Rick breathed a sigh of relief to be heading home, aware of the fact that he was now half an hour later than the agreed time. Hoping that Carl had thought to put Judith down for her nap, though he suspected he hadn't, Rick headed home to spend the rest of the day with his children.

For now, the problem of dealing with Carter would have to wait.

* * *

A/N Oh my God, it's almost comic con time! The season 7 trailer is almost here, and I am ridiculously excited.

Thanks for the reviews everyone, especially those that were particularly supportive and that acknowledge the longer term characterisation and growth (special thanks to reviewer zooey). I appreciate and read all the reviews made, and I take the time to carefully consider all feedback, both positive and negative. Of course it's implausible to believe that all readers will enjoy all stories, and that's okay with me.

One of the more difficult things with fan fiction is posting chapter by chapter - even though I write 20+ chapters ahead, it can be difficult to change the course of your story according to feedback, whether that be relevant or irrelevant. Regardless, I love writing this story, and every week I'm encouraged by those who enjoy reading it and tell me so! On that note I'm not able to respond to guest reviews (as the reviewer was not logged in). But please be assured I read all reviews, and endeavour to respond to all those I can.

I'm slammed for time at the moment, so I'm posting the chapter and then making a run for my bed! Throughout the weekend I'll catch up on responding to my reviews for the previous chapter (in between watching and re-watching the Season 7 trailer of course!)

Happy Comic-Con!


	23. Chapter 23

Though she always preferred the good weather, Carrie was particularly relieved to see that Saturday was turning out warm and sunny. With their run out to the safe houses planned for midday, the weather was an important factor, now matter how quickly they intended to return. The run itself posed danger, as every run did, but this one came with just a little more tension, something else to worry about. Aside from the fact that they were checking to make sure the Wolves hadn't found any of their sanctuaries, they were taking an extra person with them. Anna, the last person Carrie would have expected to ask for a ride along, had done exactly that two days ago. Late one evening she'd arrived on their doorstep looking for Rick, and she'd tentatively asked if she could go with his group next time they checked the safe houses. He'd been just as surprised as the rest of them, but had given his approval pending a discussion with Glenn. As the one leading the actual run, final approval always came down to those going, not to Rick.

The moment Glenn gave his approval, and Anna told her husband Michael what she was doing, the tension and unrest in Alexandria had grown exponentially. Not only were the residents being subjected to the new training and rules, but now they felt that one of their own was being taken advantage of, that she was being forced to leave the walls. The argument that had come from Anna and Michael's house that day could be heard by many, such to the extent that Reg had gone over to intervene. Despite her vocal determination that she would be going on the run with them, Anna looked as though she was losing her nerve. The last week had been stressful for all of the Alexandrian's, Rick having forced them out of their delusions and into the real world, for now at least. While most had struggled with that, it seemed to take a heavy toll on Anna in particular. What Rick had said to her that day he brought the Walker in had made an impact on her. He'd posed the question of how she would protect Hayley if something terrible happened…Anna hadn't been able to answer.

If Carrie were being honest with herself, she hadn't expected that Anna would be the first resident aside from Deanna or Tobin to volunteer. She'd always seemed like such a pacifist, so genuinely sweet and lovely, unlike the other women who Carrie suspected were putting on some kind of a facade to just get through the day. She had expected someone like Shelly to volunteer, to snidely do as Rick asked as if that would prove her point that she didn't need his training. Carrie supposed she ought to have known better…Shelly wouldn't exert so much effort, even to prove a point.

She sat with Anna on the grass outside the Infirmary, overlooking the lake where the children laughed and splashed around in the shallow areas. Jessie was down there supervising them, seated on the dock with a soda Carrie had just taken over for her, but Anna watched on anyway, always protective of her daughter. They'd been sitting there together for about half an hour now, mostly enjoying the laughter and games from the kids, Carrie occasionally answering a question about their run that day. They'd told her again and again that she could back out if she changed her mind, that they wouldn't hold it against her, but it seemed she wasn't going to. Still, she seemed nervous as hell, and Carrie couldn't help but wonder if it was a good idea to take her. Yet Glenn had given his approval. They were taking necessary precautions, and they'd be prepared for a scenario in which Anna freaked out at the wrong time. They'd be taking two cars and extra people, Anna would be wearing riot gear…hell, she probably wouldn't even need to get out of the car, or carry a gun. The point of her company was to show her where the safe houses were, not for her to get out and kill Walkers.

"What time would we be leaving?" Anna enquired, even though she had asked this yesterday.

"The plan is to leave at midday, but I'll probably come by for you about eleven thirty. We'll need to get you fitted out and take you through our whole process."

"Process?" she asked tentatively, dragging her eyes away from the lake. She looked pale and a little doe eyed, but Carrie could see her determination.

"We pack our kits, check our weapons, things like that. We have to give the cars a once over, check the gas and spare tyres. We need to check our medical kit, food and water, everything."

"I thought those things were packed earlier? I saw them being loaded up."

"They were, but we still check before we leave. It doesn't take long. What will take the longest is getting you fitted with the riot gear. It's a bit uncomfortable, but I think you'll feel better wearing it."

"Eleven thirty," Anna said under her breath, looking at her watch. That was a little over thirty minutes away. "I'll have to get Hayley ready. I've asked Barbara to watch her while I'm…out. Michael will just make her worry, he'll be here pacing I think, just driving himself up the wall."

Agreeing, Carrie looked behind her as she saw someone walking down the street, seeing that it was Rick. She tried not to sigh out loud, not wanting Anna to read anything into that. The last week had been difficult between them, though she supposed that was a little unfair. It was wrong to say things had been difficult when they'd hardly shared more than polite greetings and small talk. She supposed that's why it felt so hard. After their fight and everything that had been left unsaid, her worries had only been compounded by the late night discussion she'd had with Carol. She made a point of warning Carrie to be careful with Rick, not to protect herself, but to protect him. According to Carol, Rick wasn't really one for the type of relationship they had going on, that sooner or later he was going to want more. She wondered if Carol knew how close to him this had hit Carrie. She'd been feeling the same way about Rick for weeks, and it was only their argument and the way he had fled at the very last minute that gave her a simultaneous feeling of hope and dread. Hope that he felt the same way she did, but dread they'd screw things up if that was the case.

Carrie smiled to herself a little, seeing that Rick was carrying some DVDs and what looked like a pack of microwave popcorn. He'd told them earlier that he was talking the latter half of the morning off, that he needed to spend time with Carl, and she'd been glad to hear this. No matter what, Rick always seemed busy, but never more so than the last week in particular. Driven by the need to make sure the community was strong as soon as possible, he'd been working non stop, organising people, keeping track of their progress, covering the watch shifts, making his rounds and somehow still finding time for the gardens. It hadn't exactly allowed for much time to spend with his children.

"Hey, Anna," he said, slowing his pace and coming over. He looked down at the two of them in concern. "How are you feeling about today?"

Anna sat up a little straighter, and Carrie could see she was pleasantly surprised by Rick's concern. "Nervous," she admitted, giving a tentative smile. "I'm very nervous."

Rick nodded, understanding. "Nervous is fine." He glanced at Carrie, but his expression was unreadable. "They'll look after you."

"I know. Thank you."

Setting off back home, he looked at Carrie again as he left. "Check in with me before you leave."

"We will," she promised, knowing the routine all too well.

They watched him go for a few moments, Carrie feeling a tinge of awkwardness as she remembered how Anna and everyone else had been talking about Rick the week before. It felt strange that a week ago she'd shared coffee with the Alexandrian's while Erin gushed about the innocent crush she had on him, the others teasing and encouraging her to do something about it. After the incident with the Wolf and then the Walker, their feelings towards Rick had taken a dramatic turn around.

"Why do we have to check in?" Anna enquired.

"He needs to know who is where," Carrie answered, taking a sip of her coffee. "It's just a courtesy. When we leave, we check in and let each other know who's going. He does the same when he leaves for rounds, he always tells someone."

"That sounds…reasonable."

They were momentarily distracted by a loud shriek, Jessie cringing as she was soaked with water.

"Sam!" she scolded loudly, looking into the lake where a head was bobbing to the surface. "I told you, no cannon balls!"

Looking around, Carrie was unsurprised to see the reactions from other people, particularly her group. Though there was no danger, those in the vicinity had turned to look as Jessie shrieked, their hands automatically drifting to their weapons as if there was danger. Carrie couldn't blame them, for her heart too had sped up at the sound. Looking down the road, she saw that Rick had slowed to a stop and looked back, but hearing no more commotion he simply turned back and continued on his way. Sighing to herself, Carrie wondered if their group would ever be able to fully switch off from the world outside the walls.

As if on cue, the sound of another commotion began stirring. An argument seemed to be brewing up the street near the townhouses, a group of men huddled together and talking urgently. Anna's shoulder's slumped as she looked at them, and she gave a weary sigh. Curious, Carrie watched as the men started moving down the road, stopping only when Tobin and Spencer darted forward and stopped them. It seemed to be Carter and Michael causing a commotion, while Tobin and Spencer were trying to talk them down.

"It's about me," Anna said sadly, sounding defeated. "They think I've been brainwashed by Rick, that he's taking advantage of me."

"You don't agree?" Carrie chuckled.

Anna shook her head, still watching the group. Carter seemed to be saying something of utmost importance, but it seemed Tobin was unwilling to hear of it. Giving the smaller man a rough shove, he yelled something indistinguishable and then pointed back up the road, Spencer supporting him and doing the same with Michael. As quickly as it began the commotion ceased.

"I'm not brain washed," Anna said softly. "I'm a grown woman, making an informed choice."

"Yes," Carrie agreed.

"I don't know if Rick is right…I don't I think I'll ever need to," she continued, her words a little confusing until she continued. "But if something does happen, I don't want to be standing there and not know what to do. He's right…Hayley's depending on me."

"Yes," she agreed again.

There were a few moments of silence, the two women watching the lake again. Hayley was standing on the dock beside Jessie, the two of them talking before she approached the edge. Waiting to make sure Jessie was watching, she looked into the water and then executed a perfect dive. There was a long moment in which she was under water, Carrie watching with bated breath until she surface on the other side of the lake, laughing and giggling as she pulled off her goggles.

"She was the regional swimming champion for her age group," Anna said proudly, watching her. "Six years old, and she wanted to go to the Olympics."

Carrie smiled, watching as Hayley adjusted her goggles and then disappeared under the water again. "If you're going to dream, then dream big."

Anna echoed her smile, but this time she looked sad. "Hayley's not really our daughter," she confessed quietly, her fingers tight around the handle of her mug. "She became our daughter after."

Though she wasn't rude enough to say anything, Carrie had suspected this might be the case. Haley's blonde hair and pale skin was quite the contrast to Anna and Michael's dark hair and olive complexions. "How?"

Sighing, Anna explained. "Michael and I were just driving…we didn't know where to. We found her wandering down the side of the road. She'd been at a gas station with her older brother, waiting for their parents to come back. When they didn't, her brother went looking for them. When he didn't come back either, she started walking. The day we picked her up, she was still wearing her swimming medals underneath her clothes. Next morning we found this place. The walls weren't even built yet."

"You've been here since the start?"

Anna nodded. "We helped build this place," she said proudly. "For Hayley…for us. She doesn't remember her family at all…sometimes I have to remind her that she had another family in the first place. A few months ago Aidan took a run crew into the city just to find her house, to bring her some family pictures so she wouldn't forget them."

"I didn't know that," Carrie said softly, though she wasn't surprised. Though Aidan was an arrogant pain in the ass on a good day, his heart was usually in the right place when it came to things like that.

"I'm not doing this because I think Rick is right," Anna continued, looking at her. "I'm doing it just in case he is."

Understanding, Carrie nodded, glad that Anna could at least recognise this. Noticing yet another person out and about, she smiled as she saw Carl and Judith heading towards them. "He's doing this for the same reasons you are," she said, gesturing to them as they approached. "Just in case."

Carl was pushing Judith in the stroller, veering it left and right as he made loud engine noises, eliciting laughter from his sister. Teasing her, he slowed down and went in a straight line until she started kicking her legs, looking up at him expectantly. Starting again, he wildly veered the stroller left and right before tipping it back on the rear wheels, and Judith was near hysterical now. Though amusing to watch, his actions also made Carrie's heart leap into her throat, picturing a scene in which Judith went flying out of the stroller thanks to her brother's attempts to entertain her. She wondered if Rick would approve of Carl doing this, but then mentally shook her head to herself. She'd seen Rick doing the exact same thing a few weeks ago.

A strange feeling came over her as she watched Carl and Judith, coming to the slow realisation that Rick was at home alone. Daryl had been out all morning and had yet to return, while Michonne and Carol were down by the solar panels, Michonne teaching a lesson on how to handle a gun, and Carol pretending she was refining her skills. With Carl and Judith taking a walk, this was the perfect opportunity for Carrie to go and talk to Rick, for her to get him alone. The polite greetings and small talk were getting old now, and she was more than ready to simply just get over it all and move on. What happened was done with. She would apologise for being a bitch, and if Rick was smart he'd apologise too. This could finally be over and done with, and they could get on with life.

Hell, they could get on with their activities in the RV. Carrie wasn't too embarrassed to admit she'd been keeping count of how long it had been…ten days exactly since they'd scratched an itch for each other. Even before their fight, it was difficult finding time alone.

"Anna, I think I should go," she said apologetically. "I need to take care of something personal before we go on the run."

"Okay," Anna agreed, though she seemed disappointed. "Thanks for coming to sit with me…I think I needed some company other than Michael."

"No problem. I'll be back at eleven thirty."

"What should I wear?" Anna asked, even though she'd already asked this question.

Carrie answered as she crossed the grass and reached the road. "Jeans, long sleeved shirt, sturdy shoes and tie your hair back."

"Thanks, Carrie."

She just smiled and nodded. Heading back home she walked quickly, knowing that this might be her only opportunity. Waving at Carl as they passed each other at the intersection, she took a deep breath as she headed home to face Rick, hoping that this went well. They were each their own worst enemy sometimes, Carrie acknowledging that she could be a downright bitch when she'd been wronged, and in their argument she'd felt particularly wronged. None of it mattered anymore, she just wanted it over and done with. Given all the stress he'd been under, she suspected Rick felt the same way too.

Entering the house she stopped and opened the cupboard by the front door, entering the combination into their gun safe. Going about their new process, she removed her Ruger SR9 from her holster and put it safely inside along with Rick's Colt Python. There were no other weapons in the safe, indicating that it was indeed only the two of them at home right now. Closing the cupboard and securing the child lock again, devices that had baffled and annoyed Daryl since his return home, she mentally braced herself before heading for the stairs.

"Rick?" she called out loudly. "You up there?"

"Yeah," he called back.

Reaching the stop of the stairs, she turned left and looked into his bedroom, the grand double doors wide open. He was bustling around inside, putting fresh sheets on Judith's crib, the used ones bundled up on the floor beside him. It was odd seeing him do something so domestic. Though he contributed around the house like everyone else, it was strange to see him doing something so ordinary and mundane.

"Hey," he said, glancing up at her as he pulled the fitted sheet onto the mattress. "Come in."

"Thanks," she muttered awkwardly, putting her hands into her pockets.

Taking a few steps inside she looked around curiously, having not really been inside his bedroom before. There was the unspoken agreement that they didn't have sex on the bed where his children slept, and so she'd never had reason to actually come in. Like every other room in Alexandria it was nicely decorated and comfortably furnished, the room having more than enough space for the king sized bed, crib and rocking chair that sat in the corner. On Carl's nightstand sat a photograph of he and his parents alongside some comics and a candy bar wrapper, whereas Rick's nightstand was cluttered with a photograph of both children, a James Patterson book, a teething toy, sippy cup and pacifier. The pink and grey rug he had found at Walmart lay between his side of the bed and Judith's crib, a pile of colourful blocks sitting in the corner of it.

"Carol put me to work," he said lightly, gesturing to Judith's crib sheets.

She appreciated his attempt to make conversation. "Oh, I didn't know she was home."

"She just got home when I did."

Unsure of what to say, she nodded silently. Mulling over her plan and what she wanted to say, she watched and waited for his attention to turn to her, and moments later he looked back to her. Feeling as awkward as she did, he seemed to brace himself before voicing his enquiry.

"Is everything alright?"

 _Fuck…what was she going to say again?_ "Yeah," she replied automatically. "Everything's fine."

Looking at him, she could tell he felt as out of place with her in his bedroom as she did. Trying not to look too uncomfortable in a space that was clearly defined as belonging to he and his children, she began her apology but then stopped. Having also started to speak, Rick trailed off before giving a short laugh.

"What's so funny?" she enquired, sharing his smile.

"Nothing," he muttered, tossing a blanket into the crib before pulling up the side railing and clicking it into place. "But you're a terrible liar."

The ice broken, Carrie gave a short sigh. "Yeah, I'll give you that," she admitted.

Preparing her apology again, she fell short a second time, seeing the expression on Rick's face. Though on the surface he seemed sure of himself, the tentative way with which he came closer indicated his uncertainty, that he was second guessing himself. He gave her a familiar look, one that indicated he could tell what she was thinking, and that he was thinking the same thing too.

She started speaking, determined to say something. "Rick, I came here to-"

"I know," he cut her off abruptly. He came closer, so close now that she was certain he was going to kiss her…she hadn't been expecting that. "But me first."

He started with a gentle touch, his hand reaching for her elbow before he dared to try and kiss her. When he did, it was soft and unassuming, his way of gauging whether his approach was welcomed or not. Though it had only been a little over a week it felt like longer since they'd shared a kiss, since she'd felt the touch of his hands. Having not truly realised how much she missed it Carrie kissed him back, her heart swelling when she felt him relaxing. He'd been worried about her reaction, that much she could tell. Easing back into his familiar embrace, she let her hands rise to his shoulders and then to his neck, stroking his smooth, clean shaven jaw. To her disappointment he didn't allow her to deepen the kiss, slowly pulling back when she tried to step forward. He kissed her softly now, his lips chaste and swift against hers until he stopped altogether.

"I'm sorry for not telling you about the Walker." Stepping back from her, he gently took her hands in his and pulled them down from his face. "You know I had my reasons…but I'm still sorry."

His apology was genuine, his tone sincere, and Carrie accepted this without hesitation. "Thank you," she replied softly. When she went to step closer in order to kiss him again he matched her by taking a step back, and it appeared he wasn't finished.

"I'm sorry for listening to your conversation with Deanna. I had my reasons," he repeated. "But I'm still sorry."

This intention behind his apology was clear…he was apologising for the hurt he had caused her, but not for the action itself. A small part of her wanted to demand more, to insist he apologising for spying on Deanna in the first place, but she forced herself to remember what was important. She knew that Rick had to do things he didn't like, things that weren't the best reflection of his true character. What was important in this moment was not what he had done, but the remorse he felt for how it had affected her. He'd listened to her sharing private information with Deanna, and she trusted that his remorse for this was genuine. That was the important part of his apology…his regret for hurting her was genuine.

With this in mind, she accepted his apology without hesitation. "Thank you." Grateful, Rick made to kiss her again, but this time it was she that stepped back. "I'm sorry too. I'm sorry for not hearing you out, for not trusting your judgement…for being a bitch," she added, figuring that term encompassed her attitude throughout the last week. "That bit kind of comes naturally…sorry."

Rick nodded slowly, and she could tell that what she said had impact. He looked as relieved as she felt, and as though the last week hadn't happened at all, as though that Wolf hadn't turned up and thrown their community into a new type of unrest, they kissed. The only thing that had been left unacknowledged by the two of them was the latter part of their argument, her insistence that he treated her differently, and his admission that it was true. She was still desperate to know why he treated her differently, to know what it was he was thinking inside, but she didn't want to bring it up right now. There would be a time and place, of that much she was sure…but she remembered clearly what Carol had said to her the other night, that Rick probably wasn't ready for anything deeper. With that in mind, Carrie was resolved to not pushing him before he was ready.

Having said everything they needed to say, they seemed to pick up where they had left off last time, indulging themselves in one another. It was so easy to do, reaffirming Carrie's belief that maybe there was potential for the two of them, that if he felt the same way then maybe they'd stand a chance at trying for a real relationship. Focusing on the now, it was clear to her where this kiss was going, even before Rick's hands started wandering, pulling her against him. They both had missed one another, they both wanted and needed to resume their former level of intimacy. After all, who wouldn't miss good sex when it was gone?

Breaking their kiss, she turned away to draw breath. "Is this going to be your way of making it up to me?" she asked expectantly.

"Sure," he muttered. Turning his attention elsewhere he pressed his lips against the curve of her neck, his tongue darting out to tease her skin. "If that's what you want."

She nodded without needing to think. "I've got fifteen minutes," she breathed, looking at the alarm clock on his nightstand. "You?"

"Probably less than ten."

"We can work with that."

It would be rushed, both of them in a hurry to scratch the itch before they were inevitably disturbed by the world outside one another, but they'd manage it. She tugged on his waist to make him follow, the two of them managing to contain themselves long enough to make the short walk down the hall to her bedroom. While he locked the door, Carrie set about closing the privacy blinds on her windows, her bedroom's location at the front of the house meaning they were visible from the street. Their privacy ensured, she gladly let him take the lead, his fingers already rushing to open the button on her shorts. Sooner than expected he was tugging her shorts and underwear down, unhooking them from one foot before steering her to sit on the edge of the bed.

She'd finally learnt how to remove his duty belt, having figured out to unclasp the loops that secured it around his lips, the little loops that would send him into a tailspin if lost. Tugging the loops free, she slipped them into each of his pockets for safe keeping, grinning as the belt and holster fell to the floor with a loud thud. Noting that for once he was wearing a new pair of jeans, she opened his belt and pulled them down only as far as she needed before gently grasping his penis. He was half hard already, and with their limited time still in mind she brought him to her mouth and began working him over, pleased by the short grunt he gave. Looking up at him she instinctively watched his hands, which had until now been reaching for her. Knowing what she needed, the rules she had only needed to voice once, he kept his hands away and didn't touch her.

She knew he only wanted to touch her out of affection, to innocently stroke her cheek or touch her hair, but despite this she hadn't been able to let him. There was a time not so long ago that the act of giving oral sex had been made torturous for her, Granger and his group taking full advantage of the poorly considered agreement she had reached with them. No matter how much she felt she had moved on from that period of her life, the memories occasionally manifested themselves in her actions today. But Rick, who knew more of her history than she would have liked, never made mention of it, he never pushed her for more than she offered. While he'd still managed to make his own needs known, he'd always allowed her to lead the tone and pace of their sex life, a consideration she was grateful for.

Dwelling on this, a burst of confidence spurred her to reach out and take his hand, unfurling his clenched fist before guiding it to the side of her head. His hesitation was clear, but the moment his palm touched her hair his fingers were sliding through it, stroking her scalp and making her shiver in delight. He kept his touch slow and light, taking from her only what was offered, this telling her that what had at first been a genuine trigger had perhaps begun to ease. Nevertheless she couldn't think about this much longer, for Rick suddenly stepped back from her with a strained moan.

"I really like your train of thought," he sighed, opening the top drawer of her night stand. "But we haven't got time."

"Yeah, no shit," she agreed, knowing what bad timing Carl often had on their attempts to be alone. "Your damn kids," she joked, watching as he carefully tore open the foil pack and put the condom on.

Chuckling at this remark, Rick smiled as he ran his hands up her legs and moved them apart, making room for him to lay down on top of her. His lips brushed over the base of her neck, his tongue following suit as he licked and tasted her skin, but he knew better than to leave a mark. There were only so many hickey shaped bruises she could get away with having on her neck and chest. Having not had the time for foreplay, he eased himself into her gently, his thrusts slow and methodical until she spurred him to go faster. Readjusting their position, he slid one hand underneath her ass and helped her rock against him, his lips meeting hers and coaxing a soft moan from them.

Their kiss was urgent and needy, Rick panting against her lips before resting his forehead against hers. They shared breath now, an ache beginning to grow in Carrie's chest, and she wasn't sure how much longer she'd be able to do this. No matter how she tried to rationalise that sex was just sex, it didn't feel like that anymore. The way they were now, the way they held one another and the way he kissed her…it felt intimate. She was yearning for that from him, the craving for a more meaningful type of intimacy difficult to comprehend right now. Trying to distract herself from those thoughts, she opened her eyes and looked down at where their bodies were joined, watching the way Rick's stomach muscles moved and flexed with each thrust. Paying attention now, she realised that this position just wasn't doing much for her right now, the unfortunate cost of their lack of time.

He too noticing, Rick slowed to a stop and then gently pulled out, pressing a firm kiss to her lips before standing up. "I wish I had the time to take you slowly," he told her, his voice unbelievably sexy as he sat down and ushered her to move on top of him. "But this will have to do."

She nodded her agreement as she hurriedly straddled his hips, sharing a kiss with him and marvelling over how well he knew her. It wasn't unusual for them to be stretched for time, and he knew exactly what to do when the need arose for them to finish up quickly. Yet despite the urgency of their time, Rick reached behind her and stroked his fingers around the tattoo on her ass, and she mentally admonished him for washing time with it. He seemed to like it, always shaking his head at her choice of Tinkerbell. _Just a dash of sass_ , he would often laugh, usually when she'd been running her mouth at him. _What an understatement_.

Reminding him of their limited time together, she clenched her hand into his curls and kissed him hard, enjoying the way he grunted in surprise. Getting the hint he started paying attention properly, his hands coming to her hips and helping her rock back and forth in his lap. She could feel a flush covering her skin, the hairs on her arms standing on end as their kiss ended and her eyes met his. He looked up at her with a strange expression, his brow furrowed and his lips parted as he panted for breath, and she longed to know what he was thinking. Was he feeling the same way she was? Did he have the same ache in his chest that she did? As these questions occurred to her Carrie rested her forehead against his and closed her eyes, feeling too emotionally exposed in that moment, the intimacy too great.

He grunted loudly underneath her, his lips warming her neck as one hand hurriedly slipped underneath her tank top and reached for her breast. But a split second later she was stopping him, hearing the sound of the front door closing loudly downstairs. Feeling a moment of sheer panic she came to a stop and slapped her palm over Rick's mouth, quietening his confused protest as she listened. There was a brief moment of silence, and then….Judith crying.

"Dammit," she swore, gritting her teeth in frustration.

"Wait," he said urgently, clutching her hips as she tried to move off him. "It's okay. We can still-"

She raised her eyebrows incredulously. "Your kids are back, no way!"

He looked up at her desperately, begging her to reconsider before good sense slowly sank in. As his shoulders sagged he groaned in frustration and reluctantly let go of her hips, allowing the two of them to slump down beside one another. Disheartened and more frustrated than she'd felt in weeks, she looked at him apologetically as he gave a pathetic whine and rubbed his hands over his face, struggling to accept that they had been interrupted. There was a brief pause as Rick stared up at the ceiling, comprehending their mutual disappointment.

"You'll see reason once the blood returns to your brain," she assured him.

In reluctant agreement he nodded his head, and a few moments of low spirits passed before the sound of Judith's cries grew louder and closer. Immediately breaking out of his despondent thoughts Rick sat up and hastily disposed of the condom, still catching his breath as he hurriedly redressed. Having only lowered his jeans as much as necessary he quickly corrected his appearance, trying to get his breathing under control as he lugged his duty belt around his hips and fastened it. Sooner than either of them expected, Judith's cries were coming from the other side of the door.

"Dad?" Carl called out from the hallway? "Are you in there?"

Rick took a deep breath before answering. "What do you want?" he called back impatiently, still fastening his belt buckle. Knowing that he was playing Carl, Carrie didn't hasten to redress, and instead lay where she was with her legs clenched, trying to ease the frustrating ache the interruption had left her with.

There was a long pause before Carl answered, the silence broken only by Judith whimpering, having heard Rick's voice. "What are you doing in Carrie's room?" he asked, sounding uneasy.

"Having a private conversation," Rick replied, his stern voice making Carrie grin at him. "Now what do you want?"

"Well…how long will you be? Judith's crying, and Carol's busy with the cameras."

"I'll be five minutes," he told him, his tone softening. "Start mixing her a bottle, just a small one."

"Okay."

Without further ado Carl left, the sound of Judith's whimpering fading as they headed for the stairs. Perhaps taking a moment to thank God, Rick closed his eyes and rubbed the bridge of his nose before looking at Carrie in exasperation.

"Good call," he admitted, adjusting the front of his jeans around what must now be a rather uncomfortable erection. "What was it you were saying about my kids?"

"I dunno," she muttered.

Everything she'd been feeling already, that their current relationship was not enough for her, began to resurface as quickly as it faded. Lingering resentment surfaced too, but she silenced that the moment she felt it. This was what she signed up for…friends with benefits, secret quickies where they scratched an itch for each other. If she wanted more from him then it was up to her to do something about it…until she found the courage to take that leap of faith, she had no right to resent their limited time together. Despite what had happened she tried not to show her disappointment. It wasn't Rick's fault…it wasn't even Carl's fault either, it was just the way things were.

"Are you okay?" he asked quietly, seeing right through her facade.

She smiled and nodded, forcing herself to sit up and reach for her underwear and shorts, which were conveniently still around one ankle. "Fix your hair," she said breathlessly, seeing that it was all mussed up.

He ran both his hands through his hair and neatened it, straightening his shirt and tucking it in as she stood up. She felt his eyes raking her body up and down, watching longingly as she discarded her shorts in favour of the long jeans she would near to wear on the run. To see if he would keep watching, she pulled her tank top off and flung it aside, pulling on the long sleeved shirt that would protect her arms from Walker scratches should she run afoul of one. Just as expected, she felt his eyes on her the entire time, but she didn't mind. She liked that he enjoyed looking at her, admiring the body she so willingly shared with him. Besides, she did the exact same thing to him, though she was a little more adept at hiding what she was doing.

"This has got to be the fourth time he's interrupted us," she grumbled as she tightened the laces on her boots.

"Fifth," he clarified glumly. Fastening the leather loops that secured his duty belt to his regular one, he looked at her apologetically. "I'll make it up to you. I promise."

"That's twice you have to make it up to me."

"Challenge accepted," he said boldly, grinning as he came over to where she sat at the end of her bed. He swooped down and brought his lips to hers, his hand cupping her cheek as they kissed languidly. As if to remind her of what she was missing out on he seemed to kiss her with all his might, his tongue slipping into her mouth and coaxing a soft moan from her throat. Against her will she found her hands reaching for him again, needing to hold him against her, desperate to make him stay. She was selfish in the way she wanted him, in the way she wished he'd neglect his children to spend more time with her…what was an apology without make up sex?

"You have to go," she said, abruptly breaking their kiss. "Please…go before I ask you to stay."

To her frustration he didn't respond, instead bringing his lips to her neck and kissing her softly. Despite what she said, she made no move to release the grip she had on his shirt, nor to remove her hand clenched in his hair. Mentally negotiating with herself for more time, she let her hands wander back to his waist, her fingers tugging at his shirt again until he finally saw sense. Taking her hands in his he pushed them away, and he reluctantly raised his head and looked at her.

"I missed this…I missed you." Kissing her again, he placed his hand over hers on the comforter. "This isn't enough."

Carrie's head immediately went into overdrive, her heart rate speeding up at the latter remark. Nervous, she moved her hand and entwined their fingers, hoping she meant what he thought she did. "What do you mean?" she asked, feeling nervous.

"Twenty minutes here…ten minutes there…I want to have you all to myself for at least an hour," he smiled, reverting back to that southern charm that usually got her heart racing for the right reasons. "More than an hour."

Feeling that he was looking at her more intensely than she'd like him to right now, she swiftly pressed her lips against his. "You should go," she repeated, wanting to put a stop to her own thoughts. "Carl will get suspicious."

"He won't," he assured her confidently. "I'll make sure he doesn't." Despite this assurance, Rick followed her instruction and reluctantly got to his feet, looking himself up and down again. "Am I good?"

"In more than one way."

He rolled his eyes, his hand lingering on the door knob as he paused. She figured he was listening to see if anyone was on the other side, if Carl was in the hallway, but soon it was clear that he was lingering unnecessarily. He turned back and looked at her, his lips parting for a moment, his weight shifting between his feet. His nervousness made Carrie worry. He was going to say something, that much she was certain of, but what? As if she might startle him, she stayed still and silent, watching as a brief battle waged inside his head before his expression changed once again. Smiling at her again, he turned the door knob and opened it.

"I'll see you around," he said, more charming than he realised.

"See you."

He left swiftly and closed the door behind him, it's brief opening altering them both to the fact that Judith was still crying. Listening for the sound of his footsteps, Carrie pictured him standing on the other side of the door, lingering for a few moments before finally going downstairs. When he was gone and she could hear his footsteps descending the stairs, Carrie gave a low groan of frustration and lay back on her bed. She had only a few minutes left before she was supposed to meet Anna before their run, but rather than get up and go, she lay there and looked up at the ceiling. On one hand, she and Rick had cleared the air in more than one way, and they were back on the same page. On the other hand, the stress that lingered in the pit of her stomach seemed there to stay.

This was not how she wanted things to be.

* * *

This was not how he wanted things to be.

Standing on the other side of Carrie's bedroom door, Rick paused for a moment to rub his hands over his face, trying to ground himself and slow his racing heart down. He was positively fuming with himself, unable to believe that he'd come so close to saying something to her, to admitting that he wanted more. This was the same problem he'd had a week ago. Carrie had put him on the spot, had given him the opportunity to tell her that their relationship was no longer fulfilling his needs, but he hadn't. He'd chickened out last week, and he had chicken out now, acting like some pathetic teenager who had never taken an emotional risk.

Even though she was the one who insisted on it, Carrie had seemed sad to see him leave, and he hoped it wasn't just because he'd been forced to leave her hanging. In his mind he imagined that she felt the same way as he did, but even then he couldn't picture how he would approach the subject. After their argument last week and the difficulty they both faced in broaching an apology, Rick questioned whether or not they were even compatible with one another. No matter what they did, it seemed like they were never quite on the same page, that they never understood the other's perspective.

He couldn't help but wonder why he was plagued with this self-doubt, why he was questioning so much about their relationship. He never felt like that with Lori, not when they started dating, and definitely not when things started getting serious. It had been easy, it had felt right, the growth of their relationship as inevitable as the sun rising. On the supply run it had been like that with Carrie, although they had hit hurdles along the way, they grew closer and attracted to each other with great ease. Now that they were back in Alexandria, the attraction hadn't changed, but the ease of their relationship had. He hadn't expected this.

Completely at a loss for what to do about Carrie, Rick slowly made his way towards the top of the stairs, uncomfortably aware of the inconvenient erection he'd been left with. Nevertheless he knew exactly what to do, and so he stood there focused on the sound of Judith crying…there was nothing quite like a crying baby to ruin the mood for sex. He collected the used crib sheets that needed to be laundered, and only when he was certain he was presentable in front of his children did he dare go down to be with them. He found Judith sitting in the middle of the living area, tears streaming down her pink cheeks as she whimpered miserably. Dwelling on what she had just interrupted, Rick shared her misery.

"What's wrong, Judy Pie?" he asked her playfully, trying to elicit a smile or a laugh.

Wanting none of his comfort, her bottom lip quivered as she started to cry again, putting her head on the floor and clutching her duck as though her life depended on it. She was bent over double, sobbing to herself as Rick walked past her, but he knew he ought to leave her be rather than try to pick her up. She'd come to him when she was ready.

"She's just being crabby," Carl sighed, measuring some powdered formula.

"She's tired."

"Well, where were you at ten thirty?" Carl questioned.

"I know, I'm sorry," he apologised, looking at his watch. "I got hung up with a couple of things."

The time was approaching eleven thirty, and was almost an hour past the usual time Judith took her morning nap. He'd come home hoping that Carl would have thought to put her down only to find him strapping her into the stroller…by that stage there was no reneging on the promise of going for a walk, despite it being past her nap time. Rick ought to have come home earlier, knowing that Carl tended to forget about Judith's nap schedule, particularly because he wasn't the one dealing with her when she got over tired. Carl seemed to feel bad when he put his sister down for a nap, not completely understanding how much she needed it.

Carrie bounded downstairs barely a minute later, and knowing she was about to go on a run to check their safe houses he quickly looked her up and down, making sure she was properly dressed and that she had her knife, machete and gun holster. He knew he shouldn't be checking on her like this, that she didn't need him to treat her like a child. Besides, he didn't really so the same thing to the other members of his group…not really anyway. Having been together for so long he seemed to know on instinct whether they were prepared or not, but with Carrie he felt like he needed to check, that he needed to be absolutely sure she was prepared. He did the same thing with Carl, although this revelation didn't help, indicating that perhaps he was treating Carrie like a child. He recalled what they had argued about last week, her question that was still unanswered, _"Why do you treat me differently?"_

"Hey Judy," Carrie smiled as she walked past her.

Judith, who until then had gone quiet, looked up at Carrie and then let out another loud wail. As Carrie backed away apologetically, fearing she had done something wrong, Judith quickly ran out of breath and broke down into breathless little sobs.

"Sorry," Carrie laughed nervously, trying to play it cool.

Rick hid his laughter, knowing that even after six weeks in Alexandria, Carrie was still a little uncertain around Judith. "Don't take it personally," he told her, watching as Judith slowly pushed herself to her feet and staggered towards him, reaching her arms up. "She's an hour late for her nap."

"Good to know," Carrie said gratefully, filling up her water bottle and then heading for the door.

As he picked Judith up and brought her into his arms, Rick looked towards the front door and observed Carrie standing at the open cupboard, entering the combination into the safe. Taking out her Ruger, he watched her checking the safety before running her finger over the top of the slide, using the small bump on the top to remind herself that there was a round in the chamber. When he'd taught her how to properly shoot back at the prison he'd specifically chosen that gun for her, knowing the tactile safety features were reassuring for her. He was proud of how far she had come since then, not just in the accuracy in her shots, but in her own self-confidence.

"See you guys later," she said, closing the safe and clicking the gun safely into her holster.

"Che-"

"Check in before we leave," she chimed, knowing exactly what he was going to say. "Got it."

"Be safe," he added under his breath, a superstition that he practiced even though he knew words wouldn't do anything for them.

He stroked Judith's head as he watched Carrie leave, hoping that nothing went wrong on their apparently simple run to check on the safe houses. All they had to do was turn up, check inside, and swap out the SD cards on the hunting cameras. Even with Anna accompanying them, it should be a simple journey, one made necessary only by the Wolves group who they suspected to be in the area. Trying not to worry about his people, he glanced over at Carl who was adding water to Judith's bottle, taking note of the odd expression on his face. He seemed guarded about something, and Rick suspected he knew what it was.

"Is something wrong?" he enquired, being up front.

Carl looked around quickly, and though he began to shake his head, he stopped. Father and son looked at each other for a moment, both feeling the awkwardness. "Why were you in Carrie's room?" Carl asked again, trying to be nonchalant.

Knowing exactly how to play this, Rick raised an eyebrow and tilted his head, feigning amusement. "Why was I in Carrie's room?"

"Yeah," Carl confirmed, looking away in discomfort. "What were you two talking about?"

"It was a private conversation. One that didn't concern you," he said, keeping his tone light.

"Okay," he shrugged, shaking the bottle to mix the formula.

"Is there something wrong? You don't get upset when I have private conversations with anyone else."

"I'm not upset," he said quickly.

"So there's no problem?"

"Nope."

His instincts told him that Carl was no longer on edge, no longer questioning what his father and Carrie were really doing in her bedroom behind a closed door, and yet the guilt manifested itself again. This was not the first time he had lied to his son about Carrie, and it was not the first time he had intentionally put Carl on the defensive just to throw him off track. But while he hated to deceive him, particularly when he so often emphasised the importance of honesty to him, he felt justified. At the core of it, his sex life was none of Carl's business. That's all it was with Carrie, sex. Looking out the kitchen window and watching her disappearing up the street, he reminded himself that again and again.

"Has she pooped this morning?"

"Who, Carrie?" Carl frowned, looking embarrassed. "Why would I know that?"

Rick refrained from rolling his eyes. "Your sister," he clarified. "Has she pooped?"

"Yes," he emphasised, a dark look crossing his face. "It was huge."

"Good," he muttered, kissing Judith's forehead as she rested against his shoulder. "Did she eat her snack?"

"Yes."

"Okay," he muttered. Knowing they were set for a lazy afternoon together, he looked around the house now, amazed to see that it was clean and tidy, that all the toys were put away and the floor was swept. Carl had definitely made an effort to get things done so they could relax together. "You did all your chores?" he confirmed,

"Yes, all of them. I unloaded the dishwasher next door, too," he added. "And, I emptied their compost."

"Hmmm," Rick began, considering what else he could get Carl to do. "Have you-"

"Asked Carol what else there is to do?" he supplied, knowing what he would ask. "Yes, she said there's nothing."

"What's she doing in the garage?" he enquired, retrieving the DVDs he had put on the DVD table and handing them to Carl.

He shrugged unhelpfully as he started looking at the covers. "I think there's a Walker cluster outside the walls, she's probably trying to find them on the cameras." He frowned at the choice of titles. "Cast Away, A League of their Own, Turner and Hooch, Forrest Gump?" He critiqued the last cover before reading the description on the back. "Tom Hanks?"

"Trust me, you'll like these movies."

Rick gently swayed from side to side, feeling Judith getting sleepier by the second. He watched Carl as he methodically perused the description on each of the DVDs, determined to make the best choice among a selection he wasn't overly enthused about. When he kept looking back at one in particular, Rick knew he had made his choice.

"Which one do you want to watch?" Carl offered politely.

"I don't mind," Rick said, being mostly honest. "I made my picks, now you choose."

Sighing, Carl looked back at Cast Away again. "This one looks cool…but next time I pick the movie. X-Men?"

"That sounds fine to me," he agreed, exchanging the packet of popcorn for Judith's bottle of formula. "Get a bowl for that," he said, indicating to the far cupboard near the side patio doors.

Noting that Judith's eyes were half shut, he showed the bottle to her to gauge her interest in it. When she went to the effort of actually raising her head he knew she wanted it. He crouched down behind the island bench and opened the microwave, putting the bottle on the plate and then closing the door. Heavy footsteps outside indicated the arrival of someone, probably Glenn checking in before he left, but he felt no cause to stand up and greet whoever it was. As Judith put her head back on his shoulder he sighed as he looked at the microwave's screen, clearing the timer and then hitting the automatic start button.

"Rick," someone said sharply, a voice that he didn't immediately recognise. "Rick! Stand up and face me!"

His blood ran cold at these instructions, now recognising the voice and detecting their dark tone. As Judith sighed and snuggled into his neck, Rick held her close and stood up as instructed, coming face to face with someone he wasn't entirely surprised to see pointing a gun at him.

Carter.

* * *

A/N - I hope you enjoyed, please leave me a review to let me know what you think. Comic con trailer was great, I'd been skeptical about how they'd pull off not revealing who died, but it was exciting to get the confirmation about The Kingdom and Ezekiel!


	24. Chapter 24

"Rick," someone said sharply, a voice that Rick didn't immediately recognise. "Rick! Stand up and face me!"

His blood ran cold at these instructions, now recognising the voice and detecting their dark tone. As Judith sighed and snuggled into his neck, Rick held her gently and stood up as instructed, coming face to face with someone he wasn't entirely surprised to see pointing a gun at him.

Carter.

* * *

Rick would have been lying if he said he hadn't expected something like this to happen. He knew how bad the unrest in the community had been, he knew the sense of mistrust and paranoia regarding the events of last week had only grown and festered in secret. Hell, people like Tobin had even gone to the extent of warning him about secret discussion of revolt, cautioning him about people trying to rally support. He wasn't an idiot, he knew that what he did and what he was enforcing wasn't going to earn him friends, that he was destroying their trust in him in order to protect them.

Looking Carter in the eye, Rick knew he shouldn't have been surprised. It had barely been half an hour since he had overheard the heated conversation in the now empty armoury, a conversation held in secret by Carter and a few key others. Fuelled by their fear of what might happen to Anna should she accompany Glenn on the run out to the safe houses, the unrest had grown exponentially over the last two days, particularly from Carter and Michael. As he looked at Carter pointing the gun at him, he maintained a facade of mild irritation, but on the inside he was genuinely afraid. Regardless of whether Carter actually had the guts to take his life, he was holding a loaded gun at Rick…that in itself was reason to be afraid.

Looking at Carter's finger which was poised on the trigger, Rick slowly drew breath and then readjusted his grip on Judith, preparing to lower her to the floor. He couldn't have her in the firing line, he couldn't have her in danger.

"Don't move!" Carter shouted at him, taking a bold step forward.

Stopping as instructed, Rick looked him in the eye. "Let me put her down," he said calmly.

"I said don't move."

There was a long pause, Rick's eyes focused on Carter's finger on the trigger, watching it for any sign of movement, any twitch. The gun was shaking, Carter's instead grip endangering Judith even more. She was perfectly content falling asleep against his shoulder, but if he had to drop her, then so be it. He would drop her to save her life.

"I figured this was coming," he began calmly, staying still. "But I wasn't sure you'd be stupid enough to do it."

Carter's jaw was clenched tightly, his expression more fearful and scared than Rick's was. He hadn't even been there ten seconds, and already things were going wrong. It was clear by the way his eyes darted between Carl and Judith that he hadn't expected Rick's children to be home, that he was unprepared for this complication.

"What do you want, Carter?"

Carter took a deep breath, standing up a little straighter as he came further in, moving around towards the dining table so he could see both Rick and Carl. "I'm taking this place back from you," he said boldly, jutting his chin out. "I'm…I…"

"You're what?" Rick asked slowly. "You're going to kill me? That's your plan?"

As if Rick verbalising this bolstered him, Carter nodded proudly. "Yes, I am," he said lowly, readjusting his grip on the gun.

"Okay," he said quietly. "Then what? What happens then?"

Not to his surprise, Carter didn't reply. His eyes wide and alarmed he looked back at Carl again, his wrist twitching as though he was about to move the gun towards him.

"Who's the new leader? You?"

"Sh-shut up an-"

"You've got Deanna's support? She gave you her blessing, right?"

"D…Dean-"

"What are you going to do about the rest of my group?" Rick asked next, pestering him. "You going to kill them all? Are you going to kill my son too?"

"I'm taking this place back from you!" Carter growled, a rush of determination taking over him as he took another step closer. "I'm protecting my people. Deanna will thank me!"

Rick narrowed his eyes, both surprised and curious by Carter's naive determination. "You think you'll be the first person who ever tried to kill me?" he challenged, seeing the way Carter's facade took a hit. "You won't be the first, or the second…you won't even be the tenth."

"I…I will protect this pla-"

"How good is your aim with that thing?" Rick cut him off, looking at the gun. It didn't escape his notice that it was a Glock 17, the same type Shane had intended to kill him with. "Are you prepared to shoot my daughter too? You look a little shaky, that's all."

Not liking that Rick noticed this, Carter started overcompensating, extending his arm and gripping the gun even tighter. "Put her down," he said sharply, using the gun to gesture towards Judith. He took a step forward. "Now. Put her down."

Relieved for that at least, he gratefully complied with the instructions. But the moment he lifted Judith off his shoulder she roused from her state of limbo, having been half asleep. Fussing loudly, she clenched her fingers in Rick's shirt and tried to cling to him. When she realised that she was being lowered to the floor her bottom lip wobbled dramatically, and the moment her feet touched the floor she let out a miserable wail. Looking up at him, Rick was pleased to see Carter looking incredibly uncomfortable, his eyes darting around while he shifted his feet nervously.

"Go on," Rick prompted him as he stood up again, having to raise his voice to be heard over Judith's crying. "Do it," he dared.

Three short beeps indicated that the microwave had finished…Judith's bottle was ready.

There was a loud sigh, but it did not come from Carter. The two men looked over at Carl, who seemed thoroughly irritated by the entire situation. "This is bullshit," he muttered angrily. Setting aside the plastic bowl he had retrieved for their popcorn he walked over to the cupboard by the front door and opened it, entering the combination into their gun safe.

"Hey," Carter started urgently, trying to get Carl's attention as the situation continued unravelling. "Hey, Carl, you-"

"Don't you even think about it," Rick snarled, seeing the way Carter started turning as if to point his gun at Carl. Judith tugged on the leg of his jeans, too tired to even stand up and reach for him, and she broke down into exhausted sobs. "Carter, you look at me with that gun, not him. Look at me."

Though Carter was the one with the gun, it was clear that Rick was in charge, Carl driving this home when he opened the gun safe and took out Rick's Colt. Carter's eyes were wide with disbelief and panic, his shoulders slumped when Carl raised it to him without hesitation.

"Put it down," Carl told him. Indicating that he was serious, he slowly pulled back the hammer and cocked it.

"Don't make him shoot you," Rick warned.

"You made him shoot someone," Carter retorted, panicking. He looked at Carl from the corner of his eye, his determined resolve crumbling.

"Yes, I did," Rick agreed unapologetically. "He did that for you, Carter. Have you thanked him yet?"

Carter didn't answer, but he did look back at Carl again. The Glock in his hand trembled, and for a moment it looked as though he would take his finger off the trigger, but movement from the hallway set him back on edge. Rick's pounding heart eased a little when he turned to see Carol entering the living room, relieved that she had overheard the commotion. Her eyes were narrowed at Carter, her expression ominous. She had only a hand held radio, not needing to draw her gun to be intimidating, and she showed it to Carter before folding her arms and casually leaning against the wall.

"You want to reconsider your course of action?" she enquired lowly.

There was a short pause, Carter's face falling when he realised he was done for, that this was over.

"No one wants you here anymore. No one!" he shouted at Rick, needing to say his piece. "You're going to get Anna killed out there! You're going to get us all killed! I'm not the only one who wants you gone."

Rick laughed shortly, glancing down and seeing Judith laying herself across his boots, whimpering as she sucked her thumb and began to settle again. "Carter, have no doubt that if I wanted you dead, you'd be dead."

"I am taking thi-"

"Stop," Carol cut him off in exasperation. There was a short pause in which they looked at each other, and Rick could see the way her expression darkened even more. "You're doing an awful lot of talking for a man with three guns pointed at him."

Taking a step back, Carter's eyes widened again as he looked around. "W-what guns? Where?"

"Sasha, on the west post," Carol said, gesturing out the window behind him. "Abraham on the porch. You didn't notice?"

Quirking an eyebrow, Rick leant forward and looked out the front door, exceptionally pleased to see Abraham crouched there with his gun aimed and ready. He had to give Abraham credit, he could be stealthy when he wished. Though he shouldn't be surprised by it, Rick was glad to see the rest of his group had also arrived, obviously alerted by Carol when she had heard raised voices. Michonne in her Constable's uniform stood behind Abraham, while Glenn and Noah were standing out on the street, backing them up.

Wanting this over and done with, Rick sighed and scratched the back of his neck, actually feeling embarrassed for Carter. "Alright, I'm going to count down from five…put down the gun or I'll tell them to shoot you."

"Wait," Carter said urgently, wanting to negotiate. He took a step back, unknowingly giving Sasha an even clearer shot through the window. "We can-"

"Five."

"Let's talk about this," Carter said angrily.

"Four."

"Anna can't go out there, it's not necessary."

"Three."

"Seriously," Carol began dryly. "I don't want to get blood on the drapes."

"Two."

"R-Rick, we can-"

"One."

"Alright!" Carter shouted, clenching his eyes closed as though he expected a shot to be fired anyway. When nothing happened he slowly cracked his eyes open and looked around, breathing a visible sigh of relief when he realised he was still alright.

"Now," Rick said sharply, pointing to the gun. "Put it down, now."

"Alright," he repeated. Accepting his failure, he lowered the gun away from Rick, his shoulder's hunched as he took his finger off the trigger. He put it on the floor and backed well away, slowly lowering himself onto his knees and raising his hands for good measure. Ashamed, not only at what he had done but at how badly he had failed, Carter looked at the floor as Carl came over and used his foot to kick the gun away.

"Wait," Rick said lowly, his dark tone of voice making Carter raise his head. "Stand up."

Starting forward, Rick stepped over Judith where she lay on the floor, approaching Carl and taking his Colt back from him. "Be a man and stand up," he repeated, annoyed when Carter did not. "Now."

There was a short pause, the only sound being soft footsteps that came from Abraham and Michonne as they came inside. Pointing his Colt at the top of Carter's head, Rick waited patiently as he slowly rose back to his feet, a bead of sweat dripping down his forehead when he raised his head and came face to face with Rick's gun. He clenched his eyes closed, bracing himself for what he fully expected to be his final moments. Just as he had before, he felt embarrassed for him, for how poorly his plan to kill him had been crafted and executed.

"Open your eyes and look at me," he requested. When he did, Carter looked at him before focusing his eyes straight down the Colt's barrel, his jaw beginning to quiver. "Do you think killing me would make any difference?" he asked quietly. "Do you think it would make things better?"

Carter did not answer, though Rick hadn't really expected him to. While he let the moment last longer than it ought, Rick didn't allow himself to take enjoyment from Carter's fear. The fear he was trying to install right now was necessary, not something he should enjoy.

"You're not a killer," he said frankly. Using his thumb, he uncocked his gun by returning the hammer to its original position. "You're an embarrassment."

As he lowered the gun and stepped back, Rick maintained complete eye contact as Carter released the breath he had been holding, his entire body sagging with relief. Completely incredulous with him, Rick shook his head and turned away from him. Making eye contact with Michonne, who he knew was only seconds away from putting a stop to his course of action, he holstered his gun and then turned to Carl. Gently ushering him into the kitchen and away from the others, he let Michonne and Abraham come in and cuff Carter. They knew the procedure for what needed to happen next, and Rick was more than content to let them handle it without him.

"You okay?" he asked Carl, enchaining a glance with Carol at the same time.

"Yeah," he said dejectedly, frustrated by the turn of events. Though he lowered his gaze, Rick could see him glaring at Carter from the corner of his eye.

While Michonne led him out with his hands cuffed behind his back, Carter looked down at the ground in shame, perhaps questioning what on earth he had been thinking. Rick couldn't care less about him at the moment, and he took a few moments more to ensure that Carl really was okay before tending to Judith. Carol had picked her up now, and though she gave a couple of whimpers it was clear she was almost sleeping again.

She watched Carter's departure before kissing the crown of Judith's head. "I'll put her down in her crib."

"No," he shook his head. Instead of letting Carol take her upstairs, he reached out and took her himself. "I want her." At the last minute he leant close and whispered something into Carol's ear.

Glad to have Judith back in his arms, Rick held her tenderly and rubbed her back, helping her drift off to sleep as he walked out onto the front porch. A crowd onlookers gathered up the road to watch as Michonne and Abraham escorted Carter towards the townhouse where he'd be confined in their makeshift lockup. Standing there and gently swaying Judith he looked out at everyone, knowing they were watching him intently, gauging his reaction, trying to predict exactly what he might do. He knew some must be surprised to see Carter still alive, particularly those like Michael who were so certain that Rick was nothing more than a violent intruder on their peaceful community. Watching them he silently challenged them to take him on again, welcoming them to try.

Looking further up the road he set his sights on Carrie, observing her reaction to the situation. She had left the house only a minute before Carter's arrival - hell, she probably walked right past him on the street. Standing out the front of Jessie's house, she seemed to consoling Anna who had been reduced to tears by the incident, by the stress she'd been under ever since she'd agreed to go on the run to the safe houses. As Carrie had remarked, poor Anna felt more stress thanks to her husband's lack of support than she did about leaving Alexandria. Seeing Carrie forced to comfort her in the middle of the street, half an hour before the run, Rick hoped Anna would be able to get herself together. If she didn't go on the supply run, then Carter's efforts would have paid off.

"Rick," Glenn started, joining him up on the porch while Noah and Tara started sending people home. "What now?"

"What now?"

"Yeah," Glenn confirmed. "How do we handle this?"

Glancing back into the house where he could see Carl putting the bottle of formula into the refrigerator, Rick chose his priority. "Once he's locked up, organise a guard for him, and then leave him be. We can deal with him later."

"Okay," Glenn agreed, sounding a little impatient with Rick's answer. "What are you going to do though?"

"Me? I've got a movie to watch," he said bluntly. Seeing that Glenn wasn't satisfied, he explained a little more. "I don't know what we're going to do, but this problem can wait…Carl cannot. I'll deal with Carter later."

"And Deanna?" Glenn added, gesturing up the street to where the community's leader was approaching, Maggie by her side. "What about her?"

Knowing his priority, Rick made a request. "Would you handle her for me? Please?"

"I will," he agreed. Pausing, Glenn looked at him in concern. "Are you okay?"

Considering this question, Rick answered honestly. "I'm sick of this shit, that's for sure…but I'm okay."

Glenn nodded, but it seemed he wasn't done. "What do I do about Anna?" he enquired, slowly heading for the steps. "About the run today?"

"Nothing's changed," he replied, looking up the street yet again. Carrie and Anna were still talking, joined now by Abraham and Tobin. "If Anna's willing to go, and you're willing to take her, then the run goes ahead. Simple as that."

"Okay," Glenn agreed, squinting as he apprehensively watched Deanna's approach. "We'll check in with you before we leave."

"Thank you."

As Glenn left to head off Deanna, Rick lingered a moment longer. He watched the two of them stop and talk in the middle of the street, Glenn explaining the situation and next steps with a gentle, reassuring authority he didn't even know he had. Satisfied that Deanna would leave him alone for now, or at least long enough to get through the movie, Rick turned and headed back inside just as Carol began to depart. Though he couldn't see it on her person, he knew she would have taken one of their secret listening devices, one that only a few people knew about.

"I'll get Daryl to plant it," she muttered subtly, walking straight past him and not stopping.

Kissing Judith on the forehead, he headed back inside and opened the front cupboard by the door, entering the combination into their safe and opening it. But as he reached for his Colt, engaging the habit of putting it away while he was home, Rick paused. He wasn't too proud to admit that he was shaken by what had just happened, by the target his own actions had put on him. Glancing into the kitchen where he could hear Carl putting away the bowl for the popcorn, he knew he had more than himself to think about in this matter. He was sickened by the situation his children had just faced, and he hadn't been able to defend them.

For today at least, Rick returned his Colt to its holster and then secured the strap around the hammer. He was trying to be a responsible parent by keeping their hand guns locked up while they were at home, but there was no way Judith would be able to fire his weapon while it was secured in the holster, especially not while she was passed out against his shoulder. Reassuring himself of this, Rick patted the handle of his beloved weapon and then returned to the kitchen to address the other problem he was facing. Carl had put away everything they had out for their movie, and though he was trying to be mature about it, Rick could tell how disappointed he was. Although at first Rick had only suggested they watch this movie for Carl's benefit, he too had been looking forward to it. He couldn't honestly remember the last time he and his son had spent time together.

Knowing he had made the right choice by dealing with Carter later, Rick acted on the first problem he was able to address. Heading straight for the refrigerator, he opened it and looked at the bottom shelf where they kept one of their luxury items, soda. "Do you want Dr Pepper, or Pepsi?"

Carl looked up in confusion, slowly realising what Rick was getting at. "Seriously? After what just happened?"

"Seriously," he confirmed. "Dr Pepper, or Pepsi?"

There was a short pause, Carl looking torn. "You don't like Pepsi," he stated.

"No, but I'll choke it down if you want it."

They were strict with their luxury rations. A can of soda was usually shared. "Dr Pepper."

Taking a can out of the fridge, Rick grabbed two glasses and put some ice cubes in them, the task made a little slower with Judith asleep against his shoulder. "You going to make me do this all on my own? Start the popcorn."

"Dad," Carl began slowly, sounding uncertain. "It's okay. We don't have to do this."

"I know," he agreed, nodding appreciatively. "I know you'd understand if I ditched our plans and went to take care of what just happened."

Carl nodded too. "Yeah, I would."

"Carter can wait. Right now, I'm spending time with you."

Rick didn't miss the way the corner's of Carl's mouth began to turn, no matter how quickly he tried to hide the smile. Daryl had indeed been right…Carl was missing him.

"Thanks, Dad."

"You're welcome. Now make the pop corn," he told him, tossing the packet over. "And don't burn it."

Carl grumbled under his breath, still trying to hide his smile. "I burnt the popcorn once, alright? Once."

"That's what I get for trusting an eight year old with the microwave."

Getting themselves set up with soda, popcorn and a Snickers bar Carl had traded with Michonne for, they kicked back in the living room and began to watch, and without Carol around to tell them off they put their feet up on the coffee table. Not wanting to put her down, Rick let Judith stay sleeping against his chest, enjoying her warmth and soft breath against his shoulder. He knew it was wrong to let her do this, but hell, he broke most of the rules in the parenting books anyway. Besides, after what had happened to wanted to hold her in his arms a little longer, knowing that if he put her down his hands would be still be shaking from the aftermath of what happened.

Despite knowing that he was making the right choice by spending the afternoon with Carl, a part of Rick was itching to go and deal with Carter right now…but even if he did, he had no idea what he would do. He needed time to cool down, he needed to think about this strategically and consult with the rest of his group. Thinking back to the argument he had the other day with Carrie, he recalled her saying that his actions at the community meeting were an invitation for trouble. At the time he'd been unwilling to listen to her, even though he knew she was right. That had been proven today…he'd taken a gamble, knowing that bringing in the Walker would lose any ounce of trust he had developed with the Alexandrians…and this was the result.

* * *

Her foot on the gas but the speed conservative, Carrie peacefully watched the new world passing her by, the problems she mulled over becoming passing thoughts. The journey was always the same, the roads peaceful and unobstructed, leading her and her team safely back to Alexandria, and today was no different. As the car sped down the empty road without the bother of oncoming traffic she strummed her fingers against the steering wheel, her eyes intermittently darting up to the rear vision mirror. It wasn't necessary to keep track of the car behind her given they were still in radio contact, but it was a habit she encouraged for herself anyway, the car accident they had suffered on the Georgia supply run still occasionally on her mind. But throughout her six weeks in Alexandria, they had encountered no problems on the many runs the run crew made, certainly none to do with their cars.

As they passed one of the land marks that indicated they were almost at the turn off, Carrie breathed a mental sigh of relief, but not a physical sigh. It had turned out to be a rather hot afternoon, and after hours of five sweaty people getting in and out of the car, so by now the car was rather stuffy and sour in odour. They were all looking forward to getting out and breathing fresh air, particularly given the mistake they had made in taking the blue hatch back rather than the larger Hyundai. Realising too late that the windows didn't completely lower and that there was only so much the air conditioning could do, they wouldn't make this mistake again.

Casting her eyes to the rear vision mirror again, she checked on the occupants in the rear of the car. Like she, the three men looked rather cramped an uncomfortable in the small hatchback, but none had voiced a single complaint throughout their entire journey to and from the safe houses. Their tall stature working against them, Abraham and Tobin sat knee to knee in the back seat, while in the trunk Daryl was marginally more comfortable. Before they had departed he had balked at the idea of sitting between Abraham and Tobin, and had instead chosen to sit in the hatchback's open trunk, his crossbow on his lap. Though uncomfortable, it was a necessary seating arrangement given who it was that occupied the front passenger seat beside Carrie.

Clad head to toe in riot gear and sturdy clothing, Anna sat quietly throughout their journey home, her cheeks pink with warmth and tendrils of hair sticking to her face and neck. While it was necessary to intermittently check on the safe houses, today's run had been made especially for Anna's benefit. She needed to learn the location of each of their five houses, to memorise the routes from Alexandria and the routes in between, and so she had landed the coveted front passenger seat. As a matter of reassurance, Abraham, Tobin and Daryl had been selected to ride with her, to baby sit her during their journey. Though others were just as skilled, those three were the visual embodiment of protectiveness and capability, and their close presence brought Anna the reassurance she needed.

The run to the safe houses had gone exceptionally well, a pleasant relief given the problem with Carter they had left behind in Alexandria. There had been no indication that any of the houses had been found by other people, they had no trouble from Walkers, the weather was clear. In fact, their journey was so smooth that Anna even got out of the car, although it took until the third safe house for her to find the confidence. Yet even though she barely moved ten feet from the car, Carrie was immensely proud of her. She'd been living in Alexandria from the very beginning, encased inside the walls that had protected her for so long. This was the first time she had ever left, and it must be quite the shock to reenter the world outside.

As they drove, Carrie had been watching Anna's expressions, observing her silent awe as she took her first real look at what was left of the world. This was the first time she had seen the vast nothingness that was left, the sheer lifelessness of empty buildings and abandoned cars. Carrie remembered what this was like, she understood what Anna was going through. At the very beginning the first run she had made was after a month being camped in the hills outside Atlanta, their existence there relatively undisturbed by the new chaotic world around them. When she'd reluctantly joined Wade and the others on a run she got the first glimpse of what the collapse of civilisation had left behind, and it was a hard reality to stomach. The notion that nothing was left had been gut wrenching, but it must be even more so for Anna who had spent so long living under the delusion cast over the small community of survivors. She was facing the vast reality for the first time, and while she appeared to be handling it well, Carrie knew that the heavy impact would hit Anna later.

A flurry of discomfort went about the occupants of the vehicle, breaking Carrie from her thoughts. The sudden change in atmosphere put her on edge, and she looked out across the road ahead to see what it was. Her heart sped up, her hands gripping the steering wheel more tightly.

"Yah missed the turn off, Blondie," Daryl said from the rear, craning his neck to see her properly.

"Damn it," she muttered under her breath, realising that he was right. She moved her foot to the brake and began to slow down, mentally scolding herself for not paying attention.

Their radio crackled to life, Glenn's concerned voice being heard. "Is everything alright? Are we changing routes?"

"Nothing to worry about," Abraham assured them. "Just a blonde moment. We're turning around now."

"Settle down, Cupcake," Carrie crooned. "I got this."

Glancing their direction, Carrie smiled as she saw Daryl flicking the back of Abraham's head for his remark. Though he frequently called her Blondie, Carrie knew that when it came from Daryl it wasn't a genuine insult, but rather his version of brotherly affection. Amused by the way he silently came to her defence, she smiled to herself, grateful that he and Aaron had safely returned from their recruiting. It was nice having him back, his return lifting a great weight off everyone's chest. That morning he and Rick had taken a long walk together, the two of them making their rounds together and catching up on events. Though Rick was close with most in his group, he was particularly close to Daryl, and she got the feeling that their reconciliation that day had something to do with Daryl's return.

Looking forward to getting back home to Alexandria, Carrie pulled the car over to the side of the road and executed a hasty U-turn. The tyres skidded in a little mud, and the hasty manoeuvre rocked the occupants back and forth much to their protest. In the trunk Daryl tumbled a little, wincing as his elbow hit the rear window and his cross bow clattered loudly.

"Je-sus Christ!" Abraham swore loudly, grabbing the headrest in front of him to steady himself. "Who the hell taught you to drive? John McClane in Central Park?

Carrie laughed under her breath. "Like I haven't heard that before."

"You're telling me I'm not the only one who complains about your driving?"

"You're telling me you want to walk home?" she retorted.

Wisely, Abraham chose not to comment any further. Doubling back to the turn off, she was glad to see the run van stopped in the centre of the road, the rest of the group having waited for them to get back. Waving sheepishly to Aidan and Nicholas who sat in the front, she made the turn onto the road to Alexandria and then glanced at Anna. She seemed a little more relaxed now, likely the combination of Abraham's teasing and their close proximity to home. In a few short minutes they'd be making their way through the gates and back into safety. As Carrie looked at her from the corner of her eye she noticed Anna open her mouth as if to speak, but a moment later she closed it and took a deep breath. Words were failing her, the need to make small talk to alleviate awkwardness fading now that they were almost home. When the walls of Alexandria loomed up at them Anna's shoulder's relaxed a little, even when Carrie turned right and headed towards the street outside where they parked their cars.

Ignoring Abraham's criticism of her parking skills, Carrie executed a wild reverse park and then killed the engine, taking the keys from the ignition and slipping them into her pocket. As they filed out of the car and Tobin opened the trunk for Daryl, she resisted the natural inclination to lock the doors, for their practice was to leave them open in case of emergency. Should any of them ever run into trouble outside the walls, they'd at least be able to take refuge inside a vehicle for a short while. The group of five lingered and waited for the others to join them, Anna automatically gravitating to Carrie's side. Though she was really there for moral support while Abraham, Tobin and Daryl were the visual embodiment of her protection, Carrie knew that Anna's greatest struggle that day was with herself. Clad entirely in riot gear she was in very little danger from Walkers, but it was her fear that made this trip difficult for her.

"You should be proud of yourself," Tara said, falling into step on Anna's other side as they began walking back towards the gates. "First time I went on any kind of run outside after the outbreak, I threw up, cried and got a nose bleed, before I even left the house."

While Anna smiled and nodded politely, Carrie burst out laughing, picturing poor Tara on her first run. "She's right, you should be proud of myself. When I did my first run I needed to pee every fifteen minutes," she said quietly. "And squatting with my jeans around my ankles just made things scarier."

This time Anna actually managed a genuine smile, one that slowly developed into a soft chuckle. "Thanks," she said, appreciating their honest recounts. "I'm glad you were with me…all of you."

Shrugging off her gratitude the group of ten turned around the street corner, and Carrie saw the moment relief crossed Anna's face when the gate to Alexandria appeared in front of her. Her shoulder's jerked a little and her hands clenched into fists, small actions that indicated she wanted to burst into a run, that she wanted to get inside immediately. But to Carrie's relief she seemed to restrain herself. Anna's behaviour from now on would reflect that had happened, the competency of those who had been with her. If she came back an emotional wreck, it would be even harder to convince the others to get out of their comfort zone. Understanding what was at stake here, Anna kept herself together, her poker face secure as the gates opened to reveal the safety inside.

Having called ahead to announce their imminent arrival, they were greeted at the gates by those who were awaiting them, a bunch of worried faces searching theirs until they found Anna. Her husband Michael was by her side in an instant, looking her up and down to see that she was alright, that nothing devastating had happened to her. As they hugged and shared a kiss of relief, Carrie slipped away to give them some privacy, but lingered close by, not finished with her yet. She took a look around the people, noting Haley as she burst out of Barbara's front door and raced towards her mother. Deanna and Reg were there to welcome Anna back, to praise her bravery and share their pride in her, while her friends lingered near by. Shelly, Betsy and Erin watched on critically, ready to jump on any imperfection or dangerous flaw in Anna's journey. They had been as unsupportive as Michael, and though Carrie had expected this, it frustrated her greatly.

Turning away from them she looked around for Rick instead, knowing that he would be around to welcome Anna back, to acknowledge her safe return. She found him a little way up the road, Judith perched happily on his shoulders while he talked to Abraham, Glenn and Noah, getting the debrief of what happened on the run. He was as relieved as expected to be, for no doubt he had been waiting in tenterhooks for news that something had gone wrong. While he'd always been supportive of Anna going on the supply run, he acknowledged that taking her was a risk. They always faced the possibility that something could go tragically wrong, but with someone who frankly posed a liability, that danger had increased. As Rick talked to the others, he just happened to look up and catch her eye, and so she gave him a short nod, indicating that all was well on her end.

Looking back to Anna, Carrie felt a flicker of impatience as she listened to her reassuring Hayley. Though on one hand Carrie would have been content to let her talk at leisure, today she had other things she needed to attend to. Though she was personally uninvolved and had nothing to do with what happened next, she was eager to get home and find out what was happening with Carter. At the time what he had done had been completely unexpected, but Carrie had anticipated that something like this would happen. To her, it was only a matter of time before one of the scared residents took action. Stupid and naive action, but action nonetheless. Despite having anticipated it though, it had frightened her greatly when she heard what had happened, that Carter had barged into the house while Rick was at home with Carl and Judith. Hell, she had passed him on the street as she headed to see Anna, and she had no idea what he was about to do. Carter had gone there with one clear intention, to kill Rick and overthrow his group, and they had been lucky to stop him. His entire plan was riddled with poor judgement and clear lack of foresight, but once Carter had a loaded gun in his hands none of that mattered. Though she didn't quite know the intricacies of what happened, she knew that Rick was lucky to be alive. When a person was scared and stupid, they were just as dangerous as someone with bloodlust. With that in mind Carrie was eager to get home and take stock of the situation, to prepare herself for the potential fall out. If this incident wasn't handled properly, Rick could instigate another attack from the residents, one he might not be so lucky to escape from.

"Anna, we should go" she began, apologetically interrupting her reunion with her family. "We need to get this riot gear off you."

She nodded in agreement, but as soon as she said goodbye and started to leave Hayley burst into tears, clinging to her hand. While Carrie braced herself for the childish display of emotion she didn't know how to handle, she breathed a sigh of relief when Anna nipped it in the bud, sternly telling Hayley to behave herself. Somehow they managed to head to the armoury without anyone else tagging along, something for which Carrie was grateful. She knew that what Anna needed right now was a short period of quiet, the opportunity to absorb what she had seen along with the fact that she was now safe again. It was a lot to take in, and difficult to do so when you had multiple people clambering for your attention.

Heading past the solar panels and up the pavement outside the town houses, Carrie glanced down to her left as they passed the fourth house, knowing that was where Carter was presently being held. Michonne had been stationed outside the locked door, her face set into a horrible scowl until she saw Carrie walking by. Her expression softened, and in complete silence the two women gave one another a short nod of reassurance, telling the other that everything was going to plan on each end. It was a relief to know that Carter was being handled, that he had been locked up under guard until they figured out how to handle his actions. Until they knew he wasn't a risk, this was their only option.

After what he had done, could he ever be considered not a risk?

Trying to focus on one thing at a time, Carrie lead Anna to the general use armoury and helped her take off the riot gear, opening the clasps and straps that had protected her from the Walkers that didn't even get close. There was almost silence as Anna removed her protective layers, the two of them speaking only when necessary. When she looked at Anna properly she saw not just the relief to be home and to have removed the riot gear, but also the expected sadness. With silence came the grief, the overwhelming sadness. She was crying, her lower lip trembling as she held herself together as best she could.

"You should be proud of yourself," Carrie repeated sincerely, passing her a Kleenex. "You did good today."

Taking the Kleenex, Anna dabbed at her watery eyes, sniffling a little. "Thanks," she said quietly, clearing her throat and then glancing out the window. Her cheeks were pink with embarrassment, ashamed by her sudden display of emotion. "It was…it wasn't what I expected."

"It's scary, I know."

To her surprise, Anna shook her head. "No, actually…it wasn't as bad as I thought it would be. I mean, I know it's worse than that," she said hastily, not wanting to sound ignorant. "But, I…" she trailed off and then sighed, shaking her head to herself. "I don't know. It just wasn't what I expected."

Carrie paused, considering her carefully. "Will you come out with us again?"

Anna looked up, her eyes alight with determination. "Of course. I have to."

"We're not forcing you," she reminded her, not wanting her to feel like that.

"No. I'm forcing me."

"Okay," she replied softly, understanding what she meant. "You should go home. I'll take care of this."

Hesitating for a moment, Anna thanked her and then slowly turned away, her body language uncomfortable as she began to leave. Carrie knew what she was going through, that her mind was currently overwhelmed with what she had learned about the world. As soon as Anna left the armoury and returned home, she was likely going to be inundated with enquiries and offers of support from well meaning friends and family. But what she needed right now was peace, the quiet comfort of being home with her family and remembering what was important to her.

"Hey, Anna," Carrie said, catching her before she left. "Don't take visitors straight away. Have a glass of wine and a bubble bath…look after yourself today, alright?"

Immediately, Carrie knew she had said the right thing, that this advice was exactly what Anna needed to hear. She thanked her again and then left, her shoulders a little straighter and her body language more relaxed. Left alone in the armoury, Carrie too breathed the sigh of contentment that came with much needed solitude, but it wasn't to last. Knowing she had other things to attend to, she hastily set about wiping down the body armour and hanging it up before returning the spare gun she had taken with her. She lingered and took a quick look around their general use armoury, making sure all their weapons, ammunition and accessories had been securely put away. With a solid door and combination dead bolt protecting this room it was unlikely that anyone unauthorised would get in here, but it was good practice to check everything over. She opened the laptop and took a look at the spreadsheet, ticking a few boxes that indicated she had returned the spare weapons and ammunition she had taken. Keeping her Ruger in its holster, she promptly departed, making sure that the deadbolt locked behind her as she left.

As she descended the stairs, she frowned as she noticed the lights flicker a few times, a loud beep indicating the microwave in the empty kitchen had reset itself. Drops in power were becoming annoyingly frequent at the moment, always catching them out at the most unexpected times. A particularly powerful surge had short circuited the chest freezer in the Pantry, necessitating a hasty transfer of the frozen goods and a supply run.

The community was abuzz with activity now that the run teams had returned, though Carrie was glad to see that Anna had headed her advice and wasn't taking visitors. Michael sat on the front porch acting like a guard dog of sorts, politely turning away Shelly and Barbara who wanted to see and talk to her. As she passed, Carrie resisted the urge to glare at Michael. Though there was no solid evidence to the fact, she knew that he had to have had a hand in Carter's ill fated plot to kill Rick. She didn't know Carter well, but she was confident he didn't have the balls to take on such a task without support from others.

The house was empty when she came home, and though she knew it would be the case, it was strange to see that there was no evidence of what Carter had done. She wasn't sure what she had expected, but surely there would be something to acknowledge that he had barged in there with a loaded gun and the intention to kill. But there wasn't, and with the exception of Judith's toys scattered about the house was exactly as she had left it that morning. Looking down at herself and critiquing her appearance, Carrie knew that she ought to go straight upstairs and take a shower, that she needed to get her clothes soaking in order to remove the stains from the Walkers she had killed, but instead she headed into the kitchen. Though they always took water on supply runs, the heat of the afternoon day had taken them unawares, and they'd left their water in the car to turn warm. Taking a glass and some ice, she poured herself a small amount of juice and then topped it up with water, their rations necessitating that they water down luxuries like juice. Regardless, the taste of the cold beverage was exactly what she needed, and she drank it gratefully.

"I thought I saw you heading home," Rick said, announcing his arrival. With Judith still on his shoulders he ducked down as he came through the doorway, and then bent over and pulled her down. She protested unhappily as she was placed on the floor, but he quickly distracted her with some toys. "I heard things went smoothly out there. Anna even got out of the car?"

"Yes, she did," Carrie acknowledged, smiling as she verbalised the success. "Barely moved ten feet away, but she got out."

"How's she doing now?" he asked in concern.

Carrie considered this carefully, giving an honest appraisal. "I think it's hit her hard. I told her to take a bubble bath before seeing anyone. She needs time to decompress."

Crouched down beside Judith, Rick looked down at the plastic car he held. "That's good advice."

There was a brief pause, neither of them really knowing what to say next. Carrie wanted to broach the subject of Carter, but what she said instead was, "I think it's been good for her. It will be good for the other's too. Anna has her head screwed on. She'll help us encourage the others."

"Good," he said softly, standing up and coming into the kitchen where she stood leaning against the island.

He glanced over at Judith, and in the moment when he looked way Carrie critiqued his appearance, worried to see that he looked exceptionally tired. It had been his intention to spend a relaxing day at home with Carl, and judging by the DVDs and lingering smell of popcorn he had done so, but Carter's actions had spoiled the serenity of it. She didn't like to see him this way, the events of that day reminding the both of them that he wasn't invincible, that he was a mortal being like everyone else.

"After what happened with Carter," she began tentatively, unsure of his feelings on the matter. "Are you okay?"

Not looking away from where Judith was playing, Rick slowly nodded. "It wasn't a shock," he remarked, his voice softer than normal. "But it was."

She nodded sympathetically, understanding. Still observing him, she noticed that he still had his Colt secured in his holster, which was unusual for him. Like the rest of them, Rick typically stored his gun in their safe while he was at home, doing what was necessary to keep it out of Judith's reach. But today he'd kept it on his person…he was shaken by what had happened. She had the strong desire to tell him **_I told you so_** , to validate the fact that she was right and he was wrong. It would be so satisfying to gloat, to reinforce everything she had told him during their fight last week in the RV, but she chose to keep her mouth shut. Rick had known all along that his choices were opening himself up to danger, that he was taking a gamble. He didn't need her to tell him what he already knew.

Rick cleared his throat and then opened his mouth to speak, but his words fell silent as the lights began to flicker, another drop in power making them falter. They held their breath until everything settled, and though the microwave beeped and the washing machine fell silent, the electricity supply seemed to stabilise, and the lights remained on. With a long sigh Rick rubbed the back of his neck, his jaw flexing.

"Eugene said he was fixing that," he muttered in concern.

Carrie didn't say anything in reply, but rather focused her attention on him. "What were you going to say?"

He didn't answer for a moment, but when he did he looked at her and gave a small smile. "Just that this morning feels like a long time ago."

Unable to help herself, Carrie smiled at this remark, feeling her heart swelling. It did indeed feel like a long time ago that they'd made up after their fight and had tried to spend some time together, needing to reconnect after a long week of going without one another's touch. Even though they'd been interrupted and both of them left hanging, it had still been nice simply being with one another again. In spite of the situation with Carter, she couldn't help but wonder when they'd next have an opportunity to pick up where they left off. Seeing the way Rick seemed disheartened by the whole Carter situation, she got the feeling a little relief and enjoyment would be of benefit for him.

Setting her cold drink aside, she took a few steps closer and touched his hand, glad when he looked up at her in relief. He knew what she was going to do, he'd been hoping for it, and so he met her halfway when she leaned in to kiss him. It wasn't the passion filled kiss of that morning, they weren't indulging and building excitement, but it was exactly what he needed, and she felt the same need too. Even though the day had taken a dangerous turn earlier, she felt a sense of equilibrium once again, almost as if they each were back on track again. This problem with Carter wasn't going away, but somehow she knew it was going to be handled.

"Thank you," he muttered when they briefly parted, his hand reaching up to caress her neck. "I needed that."

She turned away with an embarrassed mumble. "I'm all sweaty," she apologised. "I stink."

"I don't care."

Gently brushing her neck, he traced his hands into her hair and tilted her head up towards him, their eyes drifting shut as they kissed again. Sensing his need she returned the kiss and let him deepen it, sighing when he brushed his tongue against hers. The excitement and passion from earlier made itself known in the pit of her belly, so easily rekindled, but for some reason Rick stopped just as these thoughts came to mind. Perhaps he did need this, but nevertheless he was holding himself back, and he reluctantly broke their kiss and removed his hand from her hair. As if trying to resist temptation he took a step back and leant against the bench, staying by her side but not quite within reach.

"Told you I stink."

He smiled at this, shaking his head. "Carl will be home soon," he explained, his tone of voice falling once again. "He's borrowing the Playstation from Ron."

"Okay." There was a short pause, Rick's attention turned to Judith as she played. "What are you going to do?" Carrie asked gently, hesitant to bring it up. She didn't need to clarify that her question didn't pertain to Carl.

Delaying his answer, Rick kept his attention on Judith. "I don't know," he finally admitted, looking at her now.

It made sense that he continued to stay home with his son, that he go to the effort of spending time with him. But on the other hand, he still needed to be handling the problem of Carter. Though she didn't want to nag him, Carrie found herself pressing for an answer. "Are you going to…" she trailed off, wondering how to phrase her thoughts.

"Kill him?" Rick questioned bluntly, anticipating what she was getting at. "It's crossed my mind."

She frowned at this, noting his uncertainty. "But?"

"But…I don't know."

"Can I offer some advice?"

He seemed surprised by this, but pleasantly so. "Please do."

"I think you actually have an opportunity here."

He was understandably skeptical. "Oh? A man comes into my home, points a gun at me and my children, and that's an opportunity?"

She nodded, and it was clear he was becoming intrigued.

"Okay. I'm listening."

Picking up her glass again, Carrie took a sip of the cool juice and collected her thoughts, wanting to present them to him logically. "You need to ask yourself what the core problem is here…and it's not Carter," she remarked thoughtfully. "The problem is what compelled him to do what he did, and what would compel others to do it too."

"I lost their trust, I know," he nodded, staring at the opposite wall. "They think I'm dangerous, that I'm going to hurt them."

"Yes. Killing Carter doesn't solve anything, that's salt on a wound."

"So how do you suggest I win back their trust overnight, before someone else does something stupid?"

She paused, taking a deep breath before speaking. "It's a little out there," she warned him. "A little left of field. Completely unexpected."

"I'm listening."

"Right now, in this moment…does Carter deserve your trust?"

Rick scoffed, his eyes alight with amusement. "No. No fucking way," he cursed uncharacteristically.

Carrie echoed his amusement and then braced herself, unsure of the reaction her suggestion would garner. "You're right. He doesn't deserve your trust…that's exactly why you should give it to him."

* * *

A/N - Probably two chapters next week, one on Monday and one on Thursday.


	25. Chapter 25

It was a little after five o'clock in the morning when Rick made his way through the streets of Alexandria, his boots softly pounding the pavement. Judith had roused from her sleep earlier than usual, and after receiving a fresh diaper and warm cuddle, she happily went back to sleep in the bed between he and Carl, snuggled up with her stuffed duck clutched against her chest. Having needed to awaken early anyway, Rick waited only until he was sure she was asleep before getting out of the bed. Tucking the blankets and arranging the pillows so she couldn't fall out, he had gently roused Carl and told him that he was departing, requesting that he tend to Judith when she woke again later. He had a task he needed to attend to that morning, and the earlier he started, the easier it would be. Sliding his Colt into its holster, he followed it up with his spare gun, a knife and a machete, and then left the house earlier than even Daryl did. As he strolled up the street in the darkness, his eyes having mostly adjusted, he took a few moments to enjoy the peacefulness of Alexandria, understanding a little better why Sasha preferred to take the night watch shifts. It was so peaceful he even entertained the idea of extending his stroll through the streets, but he didn't allow himself to put off his task, no matter how much he'd prefer to leave it.

Walking past Deanna's townhouse, he slowed his steps and began fumbling with his set of keys. There were far fewer keys on this particular set than he carried at the prison, and yet they gave him the same peace of mind, the same comfort of knowing that he could access every part of Alexandria no matter what. It hardly mattered, given that none of the residents locked their doors at night, and that the armoury was now accessed by a combination lock, but the ritual of carrying a set of keys still held the same reassurance for him.

Descending the steps down to the basement of the fourth townhouse, he turned on the exterior light and then put his key into the lock, first opening the exterior gate and then the glass paned interior door. No longer needing to be discrete, he stepped inside and made his presence known, unsurprised when light bloomed in the adjacent room. Crossing the short hallway, he looked into the room where Carter had spent the night, watching him blearily rubbing his eyes and looking at Rick, the camping lantern on the ground beside him creating the light. Realising who it was, Carter sat up quickly, looking rather alarmed by the unannounced arrival of the man he had wanted to kill the previous day. Getting straight to the point, Rick set down a container of breakfast food and then stepped away from it, somewhat amused by Carter's confusion.

"You have fifteen minutes to eat, dress and be ready to leave."

Carter nodded quickly. "W-where are we going?" he asked nervously.

"Fifteen minutes."

Departing, Rick locked the interior door and the metal gate outside then checked his watch, determining exactly when he would return. He headed to the third townhouse where the Pantry and armoury were located, ascending the steps and heading straight for the main floor. Letting himself in, he turned on a few lights and began looking around, selecting a backpack that would be more than sufficient for what they needed that day. Having taken note of what Carter was already wearing he headed for the clothing racks and began rifling through the jackets, choosing one with a heavy and durable fabric. Assessing it, he figured it would be large enough for Carter, and so roughly stuffed it into the backpack before moving on to the other items he would need. Stuffing them into the backpack too, he added two bottles of water and a basic medical kit before heading upstairs.

Entering the combination into the lock, he pushed open the heavy door that would admit him into their general use armoury, knowing he would find all but one weapon he would need. He knew what Carter was capable of handling, and so took a Glock and a revolver, double checking they were clear before putting them into the pack along with sufficient rounds. A knife and machete followed that too. Departing the general use armoury, he entered a different combination into the lock on the next room, one that only few people had access to. This room contained their higher powered rifles, ones that he didn't want those not quite competent getting their hands on, not to mention the wide array of explosives, tactical tools and protective gear. As he selected himself an M4 and some magazines, he briefly entertained the idea of putting on a kevlar vest. You never did quite know how things were going to turn out.

Leaving the armoury, he double checked that all the doors had properly locked behind himself before continuing on his way. Heading down into the basement now, he selected a few snack items and tossed them into the bag too. Though he had more than necessary, being rather generous with his planning, he wanted to be sufficiently prepared. Carter still had another five minutes owed to him, and so he left the third townhouse and took a seat on the front steps, putting the bag down beside him. Sitting there quietly he enjoyed the peace and quiet of Alexandria at dawn, admiring the colours that were appearing in the sky while trying to remember the last time he had appreciated such a thing. As he passed the time he took a granola bar from inside his satchel and began eating just for the sake of it, knowing he had a long morning ahead of him. He wished he'd thought to take some coffee in a travel mug. He was probably going to need it.

Thinking of the morning ahead, Rick took a moment to appreciate the advice Carrie had given him yesterday. Level headed and as objective as possible, she had been the one who could see the potential the bad situation offered him, the unique opportunity that had arisen. Though they were conclusions he would have likely drawn himself, she had brought him there straight away, she had helped him recognise the logic and the consequences that her suggested course of action would bring about. On one hand Rick felt dissatisfied with the course of action he had agreed to take, not feeling like vengeance or justice was going to be served, but there was no denying what he was going to achieve today. Carrie had been right - Carter's poor attempt to stage a coup was an opportunity for Rick.

Regardless of how he felt about it, he at least had Deanna's approval and support. Once it had been decided among his group what they would do he had spoken to Deanna who listened, hearing him out and only interjecting once. Overall it had been an easier discussion than Rick had anticipated…frankly he'd expected an argument, and had arrived prepared for one. He had arrived at her home not with the intention of seeking her permission, but with seeking her blessing. By now they both understood that he wasn't asking her permission very much these days, but that her blessing would make it easier on her people. In the end, Deanna had given her approval for his plan…highly reluctant approval, but she had given it nonetheless. Her only request was that he take his course of action first thing in the morning, before any of the other residents would notice and try to stop him. They didn't need a scene of angry protesters on their hands.

Checking the time on his watch, Rick got to his feet and dug around in his pocket for the keys, heading back down to the fourth townhouse basement and opening the doors. He found Carter sitting on the end of the mattress, looking rather apprehensive about what was going to happen next. Pleased to see that he hadn't been too proud to eat as instructed, Rick tossed him the items Michonne had confiscated the day before, his shoe laces and belt.

"Thank you," Carter said softly, taking the items.

Leaning against the stairs, Rick waited patiently for him to lace his boots and put on his belt, his fingers habitually tapping the handle of his Colt. He couldn't help but question his plans for that day, constantly reminding himself that this was the right thing to do, tactically at least. Given how much resistance there had been already, his handling of Carter was going to come under intense review. Scrutinising Carter now as he stood up and faced him he hoped that Carter had enough balls to handle what was going to happen. This had to work…Rick had to make it work.

"Are you ready?" he enquired politely, willing to give him another few minutes if he asked for it. He must be nervous.

To his credit, Carter nodded. "Where are we going?" he enquired, following Rick.

"Out."

Without another word he led Carter out onto the street, watching from the corner of his eye as he noticed the heavy back pack Rick had left waiting. Ready to depart, Rick slung the backpack over one shoulder and began walking, knowing that Carter would follow…and he did. Together they walked down towards the solar panels and then towards the watch tower, Carter hanging a little behind him rather than right by his side. Normally this would have unnerved him a little, not liking someone he mistrusted to be out of his sight, and he would have slowed until they walked side by side. But today he let Carter be…despite what had happened the previous day, he didn't feel like Carter was brazen enough to try anything at this very moment.

"After you," he said, gesturing to the ladder that would take them up to the small platform on the wall.

Doing as he was told, Carter climbed the ladder and reached the top platform, but to Rick's surprise he turned back to him. Reaching down, he gestured for the backpack, and Rick let it fall off his shoulder before hoisting it up. Carter seemed surprised when he felt the weight of it, for although it wasn't overly heavy he must be curious as to what was inside it. Following him up, Rick thanked him as he took the bag again and then entered the watch tower, greeting Sasha who was on watch yet again.

"Good morning," she said, rubbing her eyes wearily. She was starting to get worn out, just like Rick had after the supply run. "Hey Carter."

"Good morning," he replied awkwardly.

Not wasting time, Rick got straight to the point. "Walkers?"

"Four during the night. I haven't checked in with the other posts yet."

"A slow night, huh?" he remarked, opening the trap door and indicating that Carter should go down first. "Make sure you get some rest today."

"Will do. You be careful out there."

Assuring her they would, he followed Carter down quickly, wondering how worried the man was starting to get about this whole thing. They slowly made their way to the bottom of the watch tower in darkness, and there was an awkward moment when they both reached the bottom, Carter lingering at the door.

"You know the combination," Rick prompted. Being overly obedient, Carter entered the combination into the lock and began to open it, stopping when Rick grabbed the door handle quickly. "Check the peephole…make sure there're no Walkers."

Yet again reminded of how poor the instincts were in people like Carter, Rick watched as he looked out the peephole. "We're good," he said tentatively.

Though Rick was tempted to goad him, to ask if he was absolutely sure, he nodded and gestured to the handle again, knowing that because of his nervousness he was going to have to spoon feed him every instruction, at least for now. Carter entered the combination and opened the door to the outside world, slowly stepping out into the poor light. Taking out his flashlight, Rick shone it on the ground for both their benefit as he too stepped out and then closed the door behind himself, turning the handle to ensure that it had locked properly. Without further ado he set off, and Carter quickly followed as he knew he would, not wanting to be left behind in the darkness. They walked in silence, but only for a few yards. Reaching the road on the other side of the gate the green Hyundai loomed up at them, having been parked there ready for them the previous evening.

Walking around the car, Rick opened the front passenger door and gestured for Carter to get in. As he followed the instructions, looking like a man approaching his execution, Rick opened the rear door and dumped the backpack on the seat. Carter got in and closed his door, but Rick decided to let him sweat a little, and so he spent a few moments looking over the car, double checking the tyres. He knew the car was fine to take out for a run, that Tobin had checked it over and that he himself had gassed it up the previous night, but he took his time to check anyway, wanting Carter to sit alone with his fears. Finally joining him, Rick put the flashlight in the centre console and started the car.

"You're not going to blindfold me?" Carter asked.

Rick shook his head. "Pay attention to where we're going," he said shortly.

Applying the gas he started off down the road, going slowly as a he saw a few Walkers mingling on the road ahead. He was watching Carter from the corner of his eye as they went, observing not only his body language and where his hands were, but the way he looked at the Walkers on the road ahead. He watched them with apprehension, and even as Rick carefully drove around them without a flicker of fear, Carter couldn't hide his discomfort. It amazed Rick to see this, for Carter had been outside the walls on occasions…he was part of the construction crew, he had been helping with the expansion and even with installing the spikes and digging the pits. It was the hand to hand combat that he was afraid of, the idea of letting a Walker close enough to actually hurt you. For all his time spent outside the walls, Carter was very much out of his element, unlike Rick.

They reached the main road in a few short minutes, passing by one of the hunting cameras that would have detected their movement and taken a picture. Turning right, left applied a little more gas and enjoyed the feeling of the wide open space ahead of him…this would be the first time in weeks since he had really left Alexandria. After the Wolf's arrival, he had let the others in his group handle checking on their safe houses, knowing they needed enough strength and skill to remain behind in the case that something else should happen. Now that he was out in the wide open world Rick felt himself relaxing, though it was an entirely different vibe from Carter. Unlike Rick whose relaxation was genuine, Carter wore a facade, his elbow resting on the window sill as he tried to play it cool, to hide his nervousness. Rick didn't blame him, knowing what must be going through his head right now.

He had new insight into Carter now, having made good use of the bug he had Daryl plant on his behalf. Reminding himself that he would need to retrieve it lest it be found, Rick thought back to the late night he, Carol and Daryl had in the garage, listening to the playback of conversations held between Carter and those who had been allowed to visit him. Rick had given his approval for any visitors to come and go, after a thorough pat down from Abraham and Daryl to ensure they weren't going to slip Carter anything. The reason for the visitors was strategic, not something Rick allowed out of kindness. Having listened to all of the conversations that had taken place, he now had a better understanding of what had led up to Carter's pathetic and ill planned attempt at revolt.

The main conspirators in Rick's death had been Michael and Carter, fuelled by their fears of what was going to happen to Anna should she go on the run to the safe houses. They had no trust in Rick's group, in him in particular, and they feared that Anna was being taken advantage of, that she was being brainwashed by them. But it stemmed further than that too, the general unrest of the previous week having been compounded even more by what Carter had overheard Rick saying to Deanna. In the moments after Rick had brought the Walker inside the community, he and Deanna had exchanged harsh words that in hindsight were not exactly his best show of character. While every word of what he told her was true, that she was in charge only because he allowed her to be, it would have been best if he continued keeping that to himself rather than voicing it. It hadn't done him any favours, particularly given that Carter had over heard it.

Carrie was right. Killing Carter would have been salt on the wound.

Nevertheless, a few things had worked in Rick's favour, and plans he had set into motion long ago were working in his group's favour. His decision to take a step back and let Abraham and Aaron coordinate the supply run to Georgia had worked well, allowing the Alexandrians on that trip to see him in a different light, as a team member rather than just a leader. His decision to bring Tobin along too had been beneficial, for despite all the things that had gone wrong on the supply run, it seemed he had won Tobin over. It had been Tobin who had given Rick a heads up about talks of an uprising, and Tobin who had continually told Michael and Carter to pull their heads in, that they were being too dramatic. Further than that, the way Rick had positioned Carrie had worked as well. She'd spent most of her time in Alexandria subtly working on people's perceptions of him, on earning their trust and companionship. His decision to not tell her about his plan to bring in the Walker had paid off, for everyone seemed to believe without question that she hadn't payed a part in it. For that, they still seemed to trust her word, despite some people suspecting that she and Rick were sleeping together.

Carol though…her mask seemed to have taken a small hit, having revealed a slither of her true self to Carter in the few short minutes in which he pointed a gun towards Rick.

"I'm telling you," Carter had said to Michael the day before, his tone urgent and worried. "The way she was looking at me…the things she said…there's more to her, I know there is. Don't trust her. Don't let Anna trust her either."

Judging by what they overheard with the bug, there was the general agreement among Carter and his visitors that they would wait and see what happened next. For them this was not only another test of Rick's nature, but also of Deanna, to see how far under Rick's thumb she was. They were fearful for whatever Rick had planned for Carter's punishment, and this would be the moment in which they would see to what extent Deanna was willing to fight for her people. It seemed Carter had little faith in Deanna, and none at all in Rick, and he reminded his visitors yet again what he had overheard the day the Wolf had been shot, Rick's harsh words to Deanna that she was only in power because he allowed her to be. Carter was afraid he was going to be exiled, and he pleaded with his visitors to keep watch, to make sure that it didn't happen.

Carter's attack hadn't been the work of someone who meticulously planned a coup, it was rash and poorly considered. He had acted out of fear, not malice, and in a way that was what worried Rick the most. Carter had acted without thinking, with no plans for how he would handle the rest of Rick's group, or Deanna…given the precariousness of the situation he found himself in, Carter was lucky to make it out of there alive. With that understanding, it had made complete sense to heed Carrie's advice, to play out her suggested course of action. On one hand it felt absolutely crazy, but logically Rick knew she was right, that it made complete sense. Being a leader also meant protecting people from themselves, and now it was up to him to make sure that no one else acted as rashly as Carter had, that no one else endangered themselves because they were too blinded by fear.

The drive he and Carter took that morning was blessedly short, allowing him to put the man out of his misery pretty quickly. When they arrived at the small hunting cabin the sun had begun to properly rise, casting enough light that Rick no longer needed to take his flashlight. Leaving it behind, he parked the car and slipped the keys into his pocket.

"Get out," he prompted Carter, taking his spare gun out of the driver's door and departing the car.

Stepping out of the car, Rick closed the door quietly and looked around for a few moments, taking in the silence of the surrounding woods, hearing only a few chirping birds. Finding no evidence to indicate a Walker or human was around, he turned back to the car, though he did not allow himself to relax. He kept an eye on Carter as he opened the back door and reached inside, noting that his expression was falling. Rick knew what he was thinking, that he was being abandoned here with nothing other than a small bag of supplies and a wish of good luck. Feeling he had allowed that scenario to run through Carter's mind for long enough, Rick left behind the backpack and instead took out the laptop computer and map. Putting them under one arm, he next took out the weapons he had chosen for Carter and set them on the roof.

The look on Carter's face was almost comical, his eyes wide with surprise when he saw what Rick was carrying. Certain of what he was doing, he handed Carter the map.

"Lay this out on the hood," he said requested, looking around out of habit while he placed the laptop on the windscreen. "Do you know where we are?"

Carter nodded slowly, taking a deep breath before indicating to a point on the map. "Here?"

"Close," he said, correcting his position and pointing an inch south. "How did we get here?"

"We went east on Redding, and then turned off….we turned off here," he recited, pointing to a spot on the road.

"Good," Rick nodded, looking around again. "And why are we here?"

It took Carter a few moments to answer this, and as he thought he looked around slowly, coming to his conclusion. "This is one of the safe houses…the ones your people set up?"

"Yes."

"You're…showing it to me."

"Yes."

There was a long pause, the two of them standing before one another with a wide gulf of unspoken fears and worry separating them. There was a rustle from the trees behind him, a Walker approaching, but Rick could tell by Carter's facial features that he hadn't noticed. Still looking at him, Rick swiftly drew his knife from its holster, amused by the momentary alarm that crossed Carter's face. Turning away, he walked towards the sound of the approaching Walker, his knife ready as he peered through the trees and waited. It arrived sooner than he expected, but he was prepared. The figure came stumbling towards him, its heavily decayed state making it easier for Rick to plunge his knife through the skill and into the brain. It fell to the ground, and he promptly wiped the knife clean on its clothing before returning to Carter.

He got straight to the point, not wanting them to linger here any more than necessary. "Am I going to regret it if I give you a weapon?"

Carter shook his head quickly, trying to assure him. "No. You won't."

"Good," he said shortly. Taking the two guns from the roof of the car, he showed them to Carter, requesting his preference. "Semi-automatic, or revolver?"

"Semi. Please."

Unsurprised by how polite and cooperative Carter was being, Rick passed him the very Glock he had drawn on him the day before, giving him a belt holster and a radio too.

"You're not…leaving me here?" Carter asked tentatively. "You're not exiling me?"

Looping his thumb through his duty belt, a habit that would never die, Rick peered at him. "Should I be?"

He was putting Carter on the spot, making him feel like he had to plead his case, that Rick might not be fully certain of his decision not to exile him. "I would understand if you did," he replied very slowly.

"Why? Because you came into my home and pointed a gun at me? At my children?"

Acknowledging what he had done, Carter nodded.

Letting him sweat for another moment, Rick finally gave him what he needed to hear. "I'm not exiling you. Don't get me wrong…I want to. To be honest, I'd prefer to kill you outright."

Accepting this, Carter nodded again, though his relief did take a hit. "Deanna won't let you?"

"Deanna does as she's told," he said plainly. "Which I know you overheard last week. She's adjusting to the way things are going to be done from now on, but that doesn't mean she's not still your leader."

"Then why are you letting me stay?"

Looking at his watch and noting the time, Rick answered plainly. "Because it's better to have you around in my debt, than to not have you at all. Understand?"

"Yes," he answered quickly. "I understand."

"Good. Let's get to work."

Glad that conversation was over, they simply got on with things, Rick leading the way to the front door and indicating to the welcome mat. Gesturing for Carter to follow, he crouched down and gently lifted it up by two corners, revealing four sheets of carbon paper underneath. Though they were dirty and a little scuffed, there were no foot shaped marks that indicated anyone had stood on the mat.

"There's carbon paper underneath every welcome mat at every entrance to each safe house. If someone stands here and tries the door, we'll be able to see their footprints," he explained, straightening the paper and then carefully replacing the mat.

"Wow," Carter said softly, in awe of the thought that had been put into such a simple indicator. "That's…smart."

Rick entered the combination into the heavy duty lock they had installed. "It's the same combination we use to get in and out of the watch tower," he said, openly the door and entering the dark cabin. Pulling open the drapes on one window, he gestured to all of their supplies that were neatly stacked along the far wall. The cabin was empty of furniture, most of it having been chopped up and set aside for firewood that might be needed. "There's everything here that you could need. Food, water, medicine, weapons, camping stove, sleeping bags, space blankets, regular blankets, solar lamps, portable solar panels, batteries, water purifying tablets…even books and games for the kids."

"There's a lot," Carter remarked, looking around in even greater awe.

"This is the smallest safe house, the smallest collection of supplies," he told him, glad that he seemed suitably impressed. "We call this safe house number one. You don't ever state it's description or location over the radios, only ever refer to them by their numbers. Don't ever mark it on a map, or draw a map for anyone, don't write down directions…if something like that fell into the wrong hands, our supplies here would be stolen."

"Okay," he agreed, looking around. "I get it."

"Good," he remarked, closing the curtains and leaving, Carter close behind him. As he closed the door and checked that it had locked, he gestured to something fixed on the ceiling of the spacious porch area. "That's a hunting camera. It takes shots whenever it detects movement," he explained, approaching it and taking an SD card out of a pouch on his duty belt.

"Like the ones you have further out in the woods?" Carter asked. "Near the main roads?

"Yes. We installed these out here last week," he continued, swapping the new SD card for the old, and double checking the batteries. "We need to make sure that no one knows these houses area here, that no one knows what we have inside. The group that took Anna out here yesterday checked then, and since we're here now we'll check again."

"Did they see anything yesterday? Any people?"

"Maybe something at the fourth safe house. Now stand at the front door and face the woods," he instructed, pleased when Carter remembered not to stand on the welcome mat. "When you're standing at the main entrance to a safe house, look directly out at what's in front of you. The first tree in your line of sight? On the other side of that tree is where we've got an emergency stash of guns, knives and radios."

"Emergency?"

"Just in case we lose the supplies we have here, we have spares," he explained patiently. "About three inches under the surface is a small shovel. Use that to dig three feet down, you'll hit a metal tool box. It's completely plastic wrapped to protect it from moisture, but otherwise there're no locks or combinations."

"Three inches down - shovel. Three feet down - tool box," Carter recited to himself, looking at the tree in question. "This is at every safe house?"

"Yes. The fourth safe house is in a suburb, so the stash is under the opposite mail box, but yes. Every safe house."

Heading back to the car with Carter in tow, he scanned the vicinity before taking the laptop which he had put on the windscreen. Putting the SD card in, he opened up the files and began scrolling through the pictures, showing them to Carter. "This is the group yesterday as they were leaving…some Walkers, a deer, and now us. Nothing significant."

"That's good," Carter nodded.

On the inside, Rick was tentatively pleased by how much Carter seemed to be paying attention, but knew they had yet to gain one another's trust. He closed the laptop and then returned it to the car. "Let's go…we've got four more safe houses to check."

* * *

A little over an hour later, Rick and Carter swapped out the SD card from the hunting camera at their fifth safe house, the two of them hovering around the laptop as they viewed the footage. It was more of what they had seen at the other four houses. Their group departing yesterday, the occasional Walker that went by, and then Rick and Carter's arrival that morning, nothing that got their attention or was cause for concern. The previous day Glenn had noted on the cameras something that looked like a human figure in the yard adjacent to their fourth safe house, the one located in the small town not far from Alexandria. But after reviewing the footage from the few hours that had lapsed since then, Rick was unconcerned. None of the safe houses appeared to have been disturbed either yesterday or today, but while they were undiscovered for now, that might not always be the case.

Over the next few weeks they would continue checking on them periodically, a task that would hopefully serve as opportunity to get the Alexandrian's out there with them. The final factor that had helped Rick make his decision about what to do with Carter was the opportunity to take advantage of the fact that he owed him big time. He had leverage over Carter now, and had been able to force him outside the walls so that he could see for himself both how easy the run was, and how easy it was to take down Walkers. The former part had been effective so far, with Carter having grown more at ease with each passing minute, the latter part would come into effect shortly.

"So," Carter began as the two of them got in the car for the return trip home. "I'm dying to know what's in the bag?" he remarked, looking into the back seat.

Rick smiled to himself, having wondered how long it would take Carter to ask. "A coat for you, some gloves, weapons, medical kit, food and water."

"But you said you weren't leaving me?"

"No, I'm not leaving you," he confirmed, starting the engine and then setting off back the way they had come. "Every time you leave the walls for longer than a short walk, you need to take food and water, just in case."

"Every time?"

"Every time."

"And the other stuff? The coat?"

"The coat, gloves and weapons are for you. When we get closer to home, you're going to show me what you can do with a knife and machete."

This got exactly the reaction he had been expecting. Carter seemed to sigh and shrink back in his seat, unsure of how to approach this. "I don't know if it's a good idea," he said, giving Rick a glimpse into his fears.

"It doesn't matter what you know," he said candidly, reaching the main road again and turning south. "What matters, is what I know."

There was a short pause as Rick hit the gas and increased their speed, Carter taking in what had just been said. "What is it that you know?"

"I know that you're perfectly capable of taking on a Walker hand to hand. You just don't want to."

"Can't blame me for that, can you?" he asked, half joking.

"No, I get it," he replied, genuinely understanding. "But you still need to do it."

"Rick, I…I'm no goo-"

"I'm teaching you," he said firmly, drawing on all of his patience. "I'm not throwing you in the deep end of a pool and hoping you figure out how to swim. I'm teaching you. Anna could do it, and so can you."

Carter gave a long sigh. "I guess I don't really have a choice."

"The thing is…you do. Short of holding you at gunpoint, I can't force you to do anything."

"Then…" Carter began, trailing off as he lost his train of thought.

"Then why am I going to all this effort?"

He nodded.

"First of all, your incompetence endangers my family. Second of all, does it come as a surprise that maybe I actually care about you…about your people?"

"Honestly?" Carter began slowly. "Yes, that does come at a surprise."

Rick figured as much. "Well I do. Like I said last week, I'd much rather be spending time with my kids than forcing my company on people who openly hate me. And yet here I am, forcing my company on you."

"You just seem so," Carter started, trying to think. "So against us…like you don't want to be one of us."

Nodding, Rick had to agree with him. "I'm working on that…I am," he assured him when he saw Carter's skepticism. "Problem is that we're just so different. My people know and understand so much more, and we're just trying to help you understand too. In a different world, we'd be compromising with one another, reaching a happy medium between the two groups…but we can't."

"You can't compromise?'

"No," he shook his head. "We can't. I'm not saying that because I don't want to, but because we simply can't. I know that means I have to force your hand in all of this, and I know that's going to make you hate me. I'm willing to take that burden."

"You're willing for people to hate you?" Carter laughed, disbelieving him.

Rick shrugged. "My job is not to make people happy, that's Deanna's job. Mine is to make you safe, and that means for you to be able to take care of yourself. When things go wrong, which they will," he said imperatively. "My group and I won't be able to protect everyone."

Carter rubbed his face wearily, putting one elbow up on the windowsill. "Rick…I understand what you're trying to do…but it's just not going to work."

"What part of it?"

"Any of it…the people here just…"

"Don't trust me?"

"Yeah. They don't trust you."

"I'm aware of how people feel about me. That's why I'm going to need you."

"Me?"

"Yeah," he nodded, as though it was obvious. "I expect your unconditional support in all of this."

"H-how so?"

"Don't forget that you brought a gun into my home, pointed it at me and my children, and then I let that incident go," he said, looking over at him for a moment. "I'd be justified to put a bullet in your head, and I wouldn't lose a minute of sleep over it. But I'm not doing that. You owe me, Carter. You owe me a lot."

There was silence for a few short minutes, Rick allowing Carter some time to digest not only everything he had learnt so far, but the magnitude of what was now going to be expected of him. This was what Carrie had suggested he do, that despite what Carter had done, Rick should extend an offer of trust. As retribution for his actions, he was now expected to give Rick his allegiance in return for his life being spared. He would have to support Rick, but most importantly of all he would have to share this support with everyone else. Despite having spared his life, Rick knew he was asking a lot - he was essentially buying Carter's trust, and it wasn't necessarily guaranteed.

"I don't want to force a take over," Rick began softly, feeling the need to remind Carter of who he was up against. "But I'm willing to do it if things don't change."

Carter looked at him in alarm, which was exactly what Rick had been expecting.

"It won't be hard, either. I wouldn't even have to kill anyone. All I'd have to do is take control of the armoury and the food supply, make the whole community completely reliant on me."

"It sounds like you've given that a lot of thought," Carter said softly.

"I have," he said candidly, looking at him again. "And I'll do it if I have to. But like I said, I don't want to. That's why I need your help…that's why I'm not exiling you."

"So you can have me on your side, whether I like it or not?"

"Yes. All you have to do is work with me, not against me. The hardest part of that is going to be trusting each other."

"Yes."

Slowing the car down to move past a group of Walkers on the road, Rick thought for a moment, wondering what to say next. "You know, you're not all that different from the rest of my group."

"How so?" he asked, his curiosity piqued.

"Everyone in my group has harboured serious mistrust in me, at least once."

"Everyone?"

"Everyone," he confirmed.

"Even Carl?" Carter joked, trying to lighten the tone.

Rick made a point of looking at him for a moment. "Especially Carl."

This seemed to surprise Carter, and Rick's honest answer seemed to render him speechless. "Oh."

"Either my group thought I wasn't acting in their best interests, or they thought I wasn't capable of leading them. I don't resent them for these doubts, because sometimes they were right. We had to earn one another's trust, we had to prove ourselves. That's what you and I are going to have to do."

Cart gave a short laugh of derision, not quite believing Rick. "How?"

"A leap of faith?" he suggested. "Perhaps like the one I'm taking today?"

"With me?"

Rick nodded. "How often do you think I go on a road trip with an armed person who recently expressed a desire to kill me?"

"Okay," he replied slowly. "I'll give you that."

"And now I'm bringing you back. I'm bringing you back to the place where my children live, despite the fact that you don't deserve my trust."

Going silent, Carter just nodded.

"I don't think it's unreasonable to ask for a similar show of faith in return. Do you?" he asked, slowing the car again and turning left onto the last road to Alexandria.

"No."

Silence fell for a short while, both of them breathing a sigh of relief now that they were close to home again. Thinking about everything they had talked about, and hoping he had managed to build some kind of a rapport with Carter, Rick drew on the rest of his patience to get the two of them through the final stage of this morning. It was imperative that Carter learn how to take on a Walker hand to hand, and now was perhaps going to be his only opportunity. If he pulled back now and let Carter go inside, then it would be even more difficult to get him back outside the walls again. But today, with his pathetic attempt at taking Rick's life still fresh in both their minds, he knew he had the leverage he needed.

"Who's on watch in the tower?" he used the radio to ask.

"It's me," Tara replied cheerfully. "You boys back safe then?"

"We are. What's it look like in the car park?"

"Hmmmm….looks pretty clear to me, you should be fine."

"Okay," he said, glancing at Carter as he continued speaking. "We're going to stay out in that area for a while, maybe half an hour."

"Got it. Don't shoot you."

Not missing the dread that had crossed Carter's face, Rick turned right as the gates of Alexandria loomed up down the road ahead of them. Heading towards the streets dubbed their car park, he raked his eyes over the streets to check for Walkers, pleased to see that things did indeed look pretty clear. He drove past the RV, a place where he hoped he and Carrie would be able to spend a little time together at some stage, and then parked the Hyundai in it's usual spot. Not feeling at all sorry for Carter, Rick pocketed the keys and prompted him to get out.

Unsure of how to begin, he got Carter's attention and gestured to the mailbox of the house they were parked outside of. "Three feet directly behind it is another stash of emergency supplies. We've got three other stashes of emergency supplies buried out here. This one we call south-east, then you've got one south-west, north-west and north-east. We're going to take a walk around the walls, I'll show you exactly where they are."

"Okay," he nodded diligently, taking it all in.

"I'm taking a major leap of faith by showing you these weapon stashes," Rick reminded him again. "I'm showing you so that you can protect yourself and our people, but you could just as easily use them against me. Do not throw this trust back in my face."

"I won't," Carter said quickly. "I swear."

Sensing that just like before his tone and body language were genuine, he accepted this on face value. "Have you ever actually killed someone?" he asked bluntly, opening the backpack and taking out the thick jacket and pair of gloves. "You ever looked a person in the eye, and killed them?"

Carter shook his head. "No."

"Judging by what happened yesterday, I didn't think so."

Pulling on the jacket and zipping it up, Carter looked at him cautiously. "You have," he stated.

He nodded, passing him some gloves next. "I don't regret killing the people I did…but I do regret that I had to."

"Is there a difference?"

"Yes." Folding his arms across his chest, he leant against the side of the car and looked around, checking they were still safe. "Now about what happened yesterday. I am suitably concerned about the fact that you wanted me dead, but I'm equally concerned about the fact that you didn't even do some basic recon. You had no back up, no alibi, no plan for what would happen next. You had nothing."

Carter looked suitably embarrassed, his cheeks going red as he scratched the back of his head. "I err…I guess I got caught up in the moment."

"I could tell. Next time you go to kill someone, I suggest making sure their children aren't home. Not only is it the polite thing to do, but a lack of witnesses will make it easier to get away with." He paused, pleased to see the genuine regret that crossed Carter's face. He'd been scared when he realised Carl and Judith were there, realising he had made a very poor decision.

"Okay," he nodded, not knowing what else to say.

"Carter," Rick said next, getting his attention and making sure he looked at him. "If you ever kill someone, make sure it's for the right reason. Not because you're scared of them, or because people have asked you too…it has to be because it's the only choice you have left. Do you understand?"

"Yes."

"It's going to happen one day, and you won't be prepared for it. But eventually, you'll come to see that all you're doing is making a choice, and that you're choosing the consequences you can live with."

Carter nodded again. "How many have you killed?"

He'd been dreading this question, though he'd expected it to come up. "I don't know. I stopped counting. Now I'm too afraid to count."

Raising his eyebrows, Carter shifted uncomfortably. "And you can live with those…consequences?"

"Yes," he answered bluntly. Having said his piece, Rick was ready to just get on with things, and with that in mind he turned back to the bag in the car to retrieve the knife and machete, but it seemed Carter wasn't finished.

"Rick, I'm sorry," he said. "I'm sorry for what I did."

Pausing, Rick considered the apology, knowing that it was genuine and without ulterior motive. "I accept your apology." Those words tasted pretty bad in his mouth, but he had no choice but to say them.

"Thank you."

"I understand where you were coming from too…you did what you thought you had to do."

Carter nodded slowly, his body language relaxing now it appeared they had cleared the air. "Thank you," he said again.

"It just so happens that you were wrong, that's all." Turning back to the car, Rick retrieved the knife and machete, and then handed the former to Carter. "Now let's go kill a Walker."

* * *

Little of significance had occurred in the week that had passed since Carter had come to Rick's house with a loaded gun, and what was exactly how Rick wanted it. Just like Carrie said it would be, Carter's attempt to take power by force had been a blessing in disguise, and a series of important factors seemed to just fall into place afterward.

The morning he and Carter left to check on the safe houses, word had spread quickly that he was missing from their makeshift prison, and Rick was glad he didn't have to be there to witness Deanna trying to deal with the panicked assumptions that he had been exiled, or worse. It seemed her people didn't quite believe that Carter would be returning, and no one relaxed until he and Rick returned later that morning. When they returned side by side with a newly developed respect for each other, the Alexandrians were sent onto a flurry to see Carter covered in blood and guts, the result of his messy Walker kills. As if there had been no incident the day before, Rick and Carter simply shook one another's hands and parted ways with one key understanding.

Rick would reluctantly forgive him, but he would not forget.

With Rick's encouragement, life in Alexandria began returning to normal. The residents at large still hated him, still resented him and his group for intruding on their easy and carefree lives, but enough had changed. Secret whispers of an uprising slowly died off, mainly thanks to Carter's efforts to stem them, and although people still mistrusted Rick in general, a new kind of atmosphere spread throughout the community. The school lessons resumed, as did work on the expansion of the walls. More people were taking posts on watch, and the gun training would continue with a longer term focus now that the residents had acquired the basic skills.

There was still some way to go, achievements that still needed to be reached. More residents needed to learn how to take on Walkers hand to hand, and more of them needed to make trips out to safe houses, but for now Rick was willing to approach that at a more gentle pace. The initial urgency for the community to protect itself had been alleviated, and both he and his group agreed that they had made enough changes for now. The armoury had been moved and was easily accessible, Rick's group and a few others were now armed within the walls, and every resident knew how to safely handle a gun. With key people like Tobin, Carter and Anna now in his corner, they were working on the residents…already Erin had agreed to accompany them on the next run out to the safe houses. As he knew they would, the moment one resident demonstrated strength and courage, the others began falling into line behind them.

With things better under control now, Aaron and Daryl had departed three days ago for another attempt at recruiting. With the promise that this time they would stick to their two week deadline to return home, they packed what they needed and left without fuss, Aaron taking the Hyundai while Daryl took Merle's bike. His departure had been a little easier on Rick this time, for although he knew he would worry day and night until Daryl returned, he was more prepared to handle his absence this time around. Other things in their households had fallen into place too. Carl was settled back into school, and aside from a few nightmares recently, he seemed to be better handling what had happened with the Wolf he had shot. Remembering Daryl's advice, Rick had made a point of trying to spend more time with him again, even if it was only taking a walk outside the walls or collecting the compost together. It seemed to be working…the two of them talked a little more, most of the time about mundane things, and occasionally about the more difficult things too.

Things were falling into place with Carrie too. They'd returned to their usual routine again, and while on the surface Rick was glad they had cleared the air and they were sleeping together again, the desire for more from their relationship still lingered in the back of his mind. For now though, things were working. Over two weeks had passed since their first major fight, and a week had passed since they'd recovered from it, and Rick was reluctant to mess with the renewed harmony. But still, he knew that it wasn't going to last, at least not for him anyway. He wanted more from her, it was just a matter of working himself up to it. He was willing to take a chance on her, to risk everything and tell her how he felt…but a part of him was still too cowardly. If she rejected him, there might be no going back to the way things were. If he risked it and told her how he felt, would it back fire on him?

This question lingered in the back of his mind every day, a blight on the otherwise smooth horizon. Everything else in their lives was going as well as could be expected…so why did he awaken in the middle of the night feeling so uneasy?

Hearing Judith whimpering, Rick was awake in an instant, automatically knowing that something was wrong. He could tell by the sounds she made that she wasn't hungry, and nor was she just feeling lonely…something was wrong. His heart pounding a little faster, he sat up in his bed and rubbed his eyes, his mind running through a mental list of what could be bothering her. Was it the new tooth erupting through her gums? Was she feeling sick? Whatever it was, Rick felt uneasy already, but as he stood up and reached into the crib that was right beside his bed, he slowly realised that it was the light bothering her…or the lack thereof.

"Hey sweet heart," he soothed, hearing her settle the moment his hands touched her. Picking her up from the crib, he gave her diaper a quick sniff before ascertaining that it was wet. He would need to change that for her. "I know, I know…it's too dark, isn't it."

Blindly feeling his way around for the lamp on his nightstand, he figured the nightlight that normally comforted her had blown. It wasn't unusual for her to awaken during the night and then simply go back to sleep when she saw Rick only a few feet away. It wasn't usually until closer to dawn that she would rouse properly and insist upon getting into the bed with him. But tonight when she had awoken the nightlight was out, and she couldn't see him. Feeling her snuggle against his chest and suck at her pacifier, he continued fumbling around his nightstand in the dark, muttering under his breath when he knocked off a few items before finding the lamp. His heart gave a jolt when he flicked the switch and nothing happened, and he sighed when he realised the cause behind Judith's absent nightlight.

The power was out.

* * *

A/N I hope you enjoy the two chapters this week! Chapter 26 coming Thursday/Friday, and it's the start of a new subplot from season 5! I'm so excited to finally get to these chapters! Thanks for the encouraging reviews, please please please keep them coming, they're my fuel!


	26. Chapter 26

Despite the sweat that coursed down her body and the uncomfortable thud of her radio and holsters against her hips, Carrie pushed herself run harder, thoroughly enjoying the burn and strain she felt in her body. Pulling her iPod from her bra, she clumsily skipped a couple of tracks to something a little more upbeat, her steady jog never faltering as she pounded her way around the walls of Alexandria.

It had been a few days since she'd been able to get outside the walls for a jog, their security practices having been tightened significantly in the two weeks since the unannounced arrival of the Wolf. But today she was determined to get the exercise she felt her mind and body craving. With the power outage there was likely to be a last minute supply run that afternoon, and she always hated going out when her body and muscles felt cold. Her morning jog was as necessary for the supply run as her gun was…she needed her blood pumping, adrenaline flowing. If she and Rick couldn't find the opportunity for a quickie, then hard exercise would have to be enough.

Slowing to a stop as she reached a certain location on her path, she breathed deeply as she looked around to assess the safety of the area. Pushing her sunglasses back up her nose, she took a small sip of water and paced back and forth for a few moments, rolling her shoulders and getting ready for her great feat of strength. Putting her water down on the ground, she shook her arms and then leapt up to grasp the top of the swing set frame. Two weeks ago when she'd been out jogging with Rosita her upper body strength had been the butt of jokes, and since then she'd been working to finally change that. Resting the urge to give a loud yell of success, she grinned stupidly as she managed to do a couple of chin ups. Remembering what else Rosita had been teaching her, she methodically recited the few curses and insults in Spanish she had learnt, wondering how Rosita was coming along with her French pronunciation. Now that Abraham had learnt enough Spanish to figure out exactly what Rosita was muttering under her breath, she'd been determined to learn French instead, and so was teaching Carrie Spanish in return.

Jumping down after successfully executing only three chin ups, she smiled in satisfaction as she collected her bottle of water and set off at a jog again. Just as she always did she felt her mind tuning out once again, her concentration focused solely on how her body felt as she exercised, on the steady thud of her heart and the sound of her feet on the ground. Completely relaxed, she was disappointed to hear her name being called out as she passed by the main gate and approached the tower. Another of their safety measures, she was no longer allowed to stray too far from the walls themselves, always needing to be within shouting distance. While it was a necessary safety measure, it was also a nuisance when she wasn't ready to be called back inside.

"Yeah?" she called out reluctantly, looking up at the tower.

"You gotta come back in," Stacey called out to her. "They want you at the solar panels."

Now almost certain that there'd be a supply run, Carrie nodded and then slowed her pace down as she approached the watch tower. Entering the code into the combination lock she let herself in and then swiftly climbed the stairs, though she intentionally began to slow her heart rate. If there was a supply run being planned, she would have to get prepared, gear up and then join in on the plans…this would be the end of her exercise for that day, but nevertheless it had been enough.

"You look like you've had fun," Stacy commented when she emerged through the trap door. "Oh, to be young and fit again."

Carrie grinned, always amused to see Stacy on watch with a large rifle like the one she was toting now. It had been a surprise to most that Stacy was an accomplished shooter already, that she was more than capable in handling large caliber rifles. Until those like Carter and Anna had publicly voiced their support for Rick's new regime, Stacy had kept quiet about her skills and hadn't volunteered to take watch from the tower. Now with the changes slowly being implemented, she seemed to step into the role with the haughty air of it being her idea all along. Carrie didn't care how Stacy came into the role, she just cared that it happened.

"You look like you had fun too," she commented. As she climbed through the window and began to cross the scaffolding that covered the gap between the tower and the wall, she gestured to the two shell casings on the floor. "Head shots?"

"Always."

Farewelling her, and grateful that her own rifle lessons were with Sasha and not Stacey, Carrie took another sip of her water as she climbed down from the platform and joined the small crowed of people by the solar panels. Rolling her shoulders and stretching her muscles as they began to cool down, she raised her sunglasses as she came and stood by Tara's side. "So, a supply run then?"

"Sure is," Tara nodded, gesturing to Eugene and Brody who stood by the electrical panel box. "Apparently the micro inverters have completely corroded. That's what's caused the black out."

"I thought he fixed the corrosion last week?"

Tara shrugged, far from an expert. "Heath's giving Nicholas directions to a warehouse in Washington where we can get some more."

"Heath's not coming with us?" she asked in disappointment. Though they generally relaxed when they were in Alexandria, more than fulfilling their duties each time they went on an extended supply run, occasionally Heath, Scott and Annie joined them on a supply run, particularly when they entered the city.

"He and Annie are still getting ready for their run the day after tomorrow, and Scott's still getting over the stomach flu Eugene has. It's just going to be the usual crew."

"Just the usual crew?" she questioned playfully, nudging Tara's side. "I wouldn't say _just_ the usual crew."

"Ugh, yuck! You're all sweaty."

"Don't make me hug you."

"Go hug Eugene."

"No thank you. I could hear him puking all the way from the first house. I think I'll keep my distance," she remarked. "But alright, I'll go take a shower. What time are we leaving?"

"I'm not sure. Glenn and Aidan are talking to Rick now, check with them."

Taking her leave, Carrie smiled and said hello to the other residents as she passed them by. Though a great deal of it was only superficial, she had to say that she was enjoying the change in atmosphere around the community. Ever since Carter had pulled that stupid stunt and tried to kill Rick, only to be publicly forgiven for it, the residents had settled into a much more comfortable sense of community. Rick and his inner circle were still very much the subject of resentment, and certainly Erin's crush on him had come to a devastating end, but the general feeling was much better. When she considered the tone both before and after the events of the last two weeks, Carrie better understood Rick's reasons for wanting to keep her completely innocent to his plan to bring in the Walker, to force the new way of doing things on the residents. It had worked, and her innocence in the matter had allowed her, for the most part, to maintain the relationships she'd spent much time developing.

As she returned home she passed Glenn and Aidan as they were departing the first house where they had been speaking with Rick about their plans. They conversed for a short while, telling her they planned to leave at around eleven thirty, give or take half an hour. Assuring them she'd be joining their preparations as soon as she could, she continued on home with the knowledge that she'd likely find Rick alone. Just as she hoped, he was the only one at home.

"Hey," she greeted him, pausing at the front door to put her gun in the safe. "Glenn gave you the news, I take it?"

"Yeah," Rick answered, sitting at the island bench reading a schematic of the solar panels. "A supply run…"

"That's right," she agreed cheerfully, heading into the kitchen with a quick coffee on her mind. "Should be an easy enough run though. Heath's giving us directions, and Aidan just said the roads are…" she trailed off with a sigh, remembering that without power, there was no coffee maker. "I hate instant coffee," she muttered. The camping stove was set up…she could make tea…

"Coffee snob," Rick muttered under his breath.

Giving up on the idea of a hot drink, she turned around to him. "What was that?" she teased, pretending to have misheard.

"Nothing," he shrugged, though the tell tale smile on his face indicated he was playing with her. "I didn't say a thing."

Considering him for a moment, she recognised the twinkle in his eye. "Where is everyone?" she enquired. "I know Carl's at the woodshed working with Tobin."

"Michonne's on watch. Carol's at book club while Judith takes her nap."

She pretended to take this all in, innocently stretching her arms and rolling her shoulders back. Rick was so predictable it was almost funny, and his eyes darted straight to her cleavage before looking back at the schematic. He was still smiling to himself, his fingers restlessly tapping against the kitchen bench.

"Looks like we're all alone," she started suggestively. She may have exerted her restless energy with her morning jog, but she wasn't stupid enough to turn down the opportunity for a quickie. Despite their very enjoyable sex life, the opportunities for time alone had always been scarce. "Maybe we could…"

Rick sighed, not yet looking up from the paper. He held out a moment longer before looking up at her with an apologetic suggestion. "I'm real sorry, Carrie," he started sincerely. "But I'm on duty, and I'm just so damn busy today."

It took her a moment to realise what he was doing, to figure out that he was only playing hard to get. Being on duty had never prevented him taking her up on one of her offers before now…in fact, his extra rounds outside the walls posed one of their main opportunities. It was amusing how he tried to play her, how he knew she was the one in the mood for sex, and was therefore was going to make her work for it. She liked that he was confident enough to play hard to get.

"Oh, that's a shame," she sighed, leaning forward with her elbows on the bench. She made a point of squeezing her arms against her side, pressing her breasts together and tugging her tank top down a little. Just like before, his eyes followed like she knew they would. Reaching out, she traced her fingers over the back of his hand, letting them run back and forth over his knuckle. "Are you sure you can't spare ten minutes?"

"No, I can't," he said slowly, dragging his eyes back up to her face. "It's a shame you can't _pin me down_."

Knowing what he was referring to, her pathetic attempt to pin him down while they wrestled for who was going to be on top the other day, Carrie forced herself not to smile. It was difficult not to, particularly given how well he had compensated her for her loss that day. Having won the battle for who was going to be on top, he'd taken her slowly and deeply, his angled thrusts getting her closer and closer until he broke all the rules of sex by backing off at the last minute. He purposefully left her hanging, more sexually frustrated than she'd ever been in her life, at least until he'd done it all again. The result had been more than worth it, Rick being forced to stifle the guttural cry she let out by kissing her. Still thinking about that day, she turned his hand over and ran her fingers up his palm and underneath the cuff of his Constable's shirt, gently tracing the smooth skin on his wrist.

"Okay, I understand," she said nonchalantly. Standing up abruptly, she turned and left the kitchen, making sure she swayed her hips as she left. "Maybe some other time."

Rick may know how to play hard to get…it just so happened she played it a little better.

Enjoying the tease, and wondering if Carl could be encouraged to spend that night at Ron or Mikey's house, Carrie went to her room and quickly stripped out of her work out gear. Without electricity her shower was icy cold, necessitating that she merely do the minimum it took to get clean, although at the last minute she managed to plunge her head under the water and wet her hair. She wished that Rick was able to join her there, the two of them not having shared a shower since the night of the party, but she knew icy cold water wasn't going to assist what they would have liked to indulge in. Thinking back to the party, Carrie smiled as she remembered what the date was, and its significance.

It was the fourteenth of May, marking exactly two months since Carrie's arrival in Alexandria. Two months since the supply run had ended and Rick's group had brought her here, welcoming her into their safe haven, making her a part of their own family. On that note, it had been a little more than two months since she and Rick had been sleeping together…two months of a friends with benefits relationship that no longer enough for her. Towel drying her hair, she sighed as she thought about Rick. Though they had made up after their argument, and though she was making a better effort to be understanding and trusting of his judgement, things were not quite how she wanted them to be. She still wanted more from their relationship, she still wanted the opportunity for them to be together in real life, not just in secret.

Wrapping the towel around her wet hair, she searched through her wardrobe for a pair of jeans, crankily muttering under her breath when there were none. She searched in her laundry basked, but upon finding it empty she remembered Carol had started some laundry the previous night. Grabbing her sweats and the shirt she wore for bed, she hastily threw them on and then headed downstairs to the laundry. As she came downstairs and diverted to the laundry, she got a glimpse of Rick in the kitchen, noting that he was looking in her direction. All thoughts of him quickly vanished when she stepped into the laundry in search of her jeans, and she sighed in frustration when faced with what she found. Both sets of her jeans had been left to soak overnight, her own fault for always getting them so messy when she helped remove the Walkers from the spikes. Checking the basket of dirty laundry that was to be washed, she made absolutely sure there was nothing for her to wear on the supply run but her second pair of yoga pants, briefly wondering if Michonne's jeans would fit her.

"Everything alright?" came Rick's voice.

She glanced up from the dirty laundry, and she paused to admire the way he leant against the doorframe with his arms folded. It never ceased to amaze her the way his presence could fill a room without even trying, the way his quiet confidence drew attention. This morning it put her on edge, but in an entirely good way.

"Thanks, Officer Friendly. But it's just a laundry dispute. Nothing I need police assistance for."

He nodded slowly, but he did not leave. There was a moment temptation as they stood there waiting, each wondering who was going to break first, who was done with playing hard to get. Confident in the power she had over him, Carrie turned back to her task and began looking through the stacks of clean clothing, hoping Michonne had some jeans that were clean and dry. As she knew he would Rick gave in, knowing when to pick his battles and when to take advantage of an offer. Stepping inside the laundry, he slowly closed the door behind himself and reached for his tie, tugging at the knot and unravelling it. Glancing at him, she flicked her eyes up and down his body, but made no comment. She kept her hands occupied by repeating the search she had just made, watching from the corner of her eye as Rick removed his shirt and then hung it up on one of the hooks. Whenever they had sex and he was wearing his uniform, Carrie made him take it off and hang it up properly, feeling bad that Carol goes to the effort of ironing it only to have it end up crumpled on the floor.

With a long sigh that was probably meant to garner sympathy, Rick closed the space between them and stood behind her. No longer needing to pretend, Carrie simply stood and waited, her heart pounding as her lips curved into a stupid smile as she waited for him to touch her. Finally he did, his hands reaching for the towel on her head and carefully unwrapping it. He tossed it aside and then raked his fingers through her damp hair, pulling it back off her face before taking his hands away again. There was another long wait, and able to hear only his calm and even breaths, the tension grew until he touched her again. She breathed a soft sigh of relief, having not realised she was holding her breath.

Slipping under her shirt, his fingertips rested lightly on her waist, her skin feeling like it was burning beneath him. He hovered behind her, not coming any closer as he finally placed his whole hand against her skin, gently moving it over the curve of her waist. Breathing out slowly, she let his hands explore her body as if he didn't already know it quite intimately. His hands were calloused but soft at the same time, his thumbs stroking either side of her navel, but not quite touching. He was doing that on purpose, having learnt how it affected her when he brushed against her piercing, how the sensations from a gentle tug went straight down to between her legs…it worked every time. Thinking about that, and eagerly anticipating his touch as his thumbs came near her navel again, she looked at him over her shoulder.

She feigned innocence. "What are you doing?"

Rick didn't reply, but he did step closer, gently brushing himself against her back. Just as it did when his hands started, the touch was light and teasing at first, and he finally gave her more by encouraging her to step backwards into his touch. She clutched the edge of the laundry sink, feeling a familiar warmth and arousal spreading through her body. He was pressing his hips against she curve of her ass, and she could feel a rather distinct bulge in the front of his jeans. Letting out the breath she had been holding again, she closed her eyes as his hands moved upward now, brushing the bottom of her ribs.

"What are you doing?" She didn't care what his answer was…she just wanted to hear him speak.

He denied her his voice again, instead quietly shushing her, his breath warm against the side of her neck. Touching her at leisure, he ran his fingers along the bottom of her rib cage, no doubt smiling when he felt her shivering for breath. Finally his hands reached her breasts, his fingers skimming under the curve before brushing against her nipples. He gave a short laugh, feeling how taut they were, how aroused she was already. She echoed his laugh, fractionally leaning forward into his touch and sighing when he gave her what she wanted. He cupped her breasts properly now, indulging himself with some gentle squeezes and caresses as he started kissing the side of her neck.

"What are you doing?" she asked for a third time, still needing to hear his voice. "Rick."

"Just making sure you have a good start to the day," he whispered, his voice low and husky. He kissed her again, nuzzling the side of her neck and then kissing behind her ear. "Just like you did for me yesterday."

She grinned at this, remembering exactly what she had done for him. When Carl had gone hunting with Sasha, Carrie had snuck into Rick's bedroom. Though they had the unspoken rule that they didn't have sex in the bed where his children slept, Carrie felt that technically a morning blow job didn't count. He'd been half asleep when she'd started, but by the time he finished in her mouth he was wide awake, one hand clutching the sheets, the other gently caressing her hair with her permission. In shock, he'd told her that at first he thought he was dreaming. It was a nice moment of humour, but when he went to bring her into the bed with him for more she'd shaken her head. _I just wanted to give you a good start to the day_ _,_ she had smiled at him. It was only when she had gone to leave, that she realised Judith was in the bed beside him, fast asleep and completely oblivious to what had just gone on. While she'd had been horrified Rick had just laughed, not caring in the slightest.

"Well, it's a good way to start the day, isn't it?" she countered, opening her eyes and looking down at his hands.

"Yes, it is," he agreed. "No bra, huh?"

"I'm getting dressed."

"That's a shame," he whispered, beginning to move his hands back down her front. Once again they skirted around her navel, making her body quiver in anticipation.

Taking one hand from the sink, she reached back and tried to grab his hips, wanting to feel him pressing his erection against her ass, to feel him rocking against her, to get a taste of what would be next for her. But he caught her hand and moved it back to the sink, pulling back when she tried to press herself back against him. She growled under her breath, her heart rate speeding up as the anticipation she felt grew.

"Frustrating, is it?"

"Yes." Unashamed of her need for him, she tried to press back against him a second time, growling when he continued avoiding her touch. The growing ache between her legs urgently made itself known, her fingers clenching around the sink as she thought about how he'd be able to satisfy that, how good it would feel to have him inside her. "You could help me with that."

"I will, I promise," he assured her.

"Come on then," she hurried him, trying to turn around.

Just like he had the other day he didn't give an inch, his hands keeping her exactly where she stood. Trusting him absolutely, she didn't mind giving him complete control of her body, knowing he'd never take advantage of it, that he cared for her…and yet today it was frustrating. She knew all she'd have to do to get a little more control would be to ask for it, yet she didn't. Enjoying the way he took from her what he wanted, no matter how frustrated it left her, she let him be, knowing the pay off was always worth it.

"Upstairs?" she suggested, trying for at least that much.

"No. Right here."

She shivered in delight, her legs clenching together at the thought of him screwing her right there in the laundry, but the practicalities were always a downfall. "We need a condom," she reminded him.

"No," he whispered, kissing the side of her neck.

She whirled her head around at this, thinking she'd misheard. They both agreed condoms were a nuisance more often than not, and they'd talked about her starting birth control, but that wasn't to be for another month or so. She'd looked forward to the day they could do away with the condoms, for while she wasn't meant to believe that sex was any different without one, they both knew it was. A part of her longed to have Rick inside her without a barrier between them, longed to hear him moaning as he came inside her. But despite that desire, indulging that right now came at quite the risk, one she wasn't willing to take.

"Rick," she began, her voice hitching when his thumbs finally brushed against her navel piercing, sending a jolt of arousal straight between her legs. "We can't…not without a-"

He cut her off, shushing her again as he kissed the side of her neck, and trusting him, she let her protests fall silent. She wished he would kiss her harder, that he'd bite and suck at the skin on her neck like he could do elsewhere, but she was sick of trying to cover the marks with make up.

"I'm just making sure _you_ have a good start to the day," he told her. Without warning, he slipped his hands under her sweatpants, caressing as far down the front of each thigh as he could reach. "Just close your eyes and relax."

Doing as she was told, Carrie swallowed heavily as she closed her eyes, letting her head fall back onto his shoulder as she tried to relax as much as possible. His hands massaged her legs, his fingers digging in with just the right type of pressure as they moved back and forth. Knowing exactly how he was teasing her, he moved his hands towards her inner thigh before darting back away, rubbing the outside of her legs and up to the curve of her ass before going back the way they had come. Slowly getting higher, he spread his fingers and almost brushed against the peak of her legs, getting painfully close before moving away again.

She groaned in frustration, his name a curse on her lips until he finally touched her where she needed him most. Lightly brushing through her pubic hair, he finally pressed himself up against her ass now, grunting shortly as he ground against her. "Fuck," he muttered, finally reaching down properly, two fingers easily slipping inside of her without resistance. She parted her legs a little more and gave a long moan of thanks. As if a switch had flicked inside him he stopped teasing, stopped wasting time. Dragging his fingers in and out of her, he held her firmly in place as he rocked himself against her ass, his breath coming in short, heavy pants against the side of her neck.

Carrie didn't quite know what to do, her hips clumsily trying to match the rhythm of his fingers and hips at the same time, needing more of them both. Quickly giving up, she slowed to a stop and let him take over, letting her mind relax. All thoughts of the supply run and their lack of electricity flew out of her mind, replaced by nothing other than the sensations he was creating, the erotic slip and slide of his fingers inside her at the forefront of her mind. Growing tense, she lifted her head off his shoulder and stood up properly, bracing herself against the sink as she pressed her ass back against him again. He held her in this position now, bent forward with one hand on her hip and the other working to get her off. When they'd started sleeping together they might have had to assist one another in such tasks, helping the other learn what they liked or how best to elicit a particular reaction. Now two months in, they'd learnt a lot, and made as much use of their newfound knowledge as possible. Knowing how she worked, Rick would occasional slow his fingers or move on to another spot before returning, a new motion quickly drawing out the climax she'd been waiting for.

"Ohhh, don't stop," she gasped through clenched teeth, her back arching while her legs strained to not clench together and make him falter. "Rick, fuck…"

He kept going as instructed, slowing only when he felt her shudders start to ease and her body begin to relax. Still bracing herself against the sink, Carrie kept her eyes closed as she tried to catch her breath, feeling the slow and gentle way Rick's fingers continued stroking her. She knew what he was doing, that he was going to work her up to doing that all over again, and while any other day his dedication would have been admirable, today they didn't have the time, a problem that was becoming a recurring theme. Putting her hand on his wrist, a gentle squeeze was all it took to ask him to stop, and he did so as requested, never failing to stop when she asked him to.

"I'm going to reward you for that very well," she said the moment she summoned enough breath.

He chuckled in amusement, his hands returning to her hips and massaging her skin. "Really? Because that was me returning the favour from how you woke me up yesterday."

"Oh…well the cycle starts again," she muttered, pressing herself back against him and feeling his erection through his jeans. She started to turn, to reach around to undo his duty belt, but he stopped her.

"I can wait," he told her, nuzzling the back of her shoulder before pressing a kiss there.

"Seriously?"

"You think I can't?" he teased with a laugh, kissing her shoulder again. His lips lingered there for a few moments, and he was thinking to himself. "Carl's having a sleep over tonight…he doesn't know it yet, but he is."

Chuckling, Carrie pulled away enough to turn around and drape her arms over his shoulders, smiling up at him. She knew what he meant by this latter remark, that he was going subtly to do all he could to get his son out of the house, to enable them to spend some time together that night. They would be busy all afternoon and evening, for after the supply run they still had to get the solar grids up and working, then remove the generators and assess any electrical damage caused by the black out. Their time that day would be limited, but with Carl gone from the house at night they would be limited only by Judith's awakenings.

"I thought we agreed no pet names," he whispered, kissing her sweetly.

"We did," she frowned, surprised by the change of topic. Looking at the amusement in his eyes, she grew worried. "What did I say?" she asked in dread.

Laughing under his breath, he brushed her hair damp back and then whispered into her ear. "Babe…oh babe…"

Hearing the teasing tone of his voice, she blushed in embarrassment. "I did not," she denied. "Stop it," she scolded when he repeated himself, her embarrassment worsening when he laughed at her.

"Come on, it was funny," he appealed, batting her hands away when she playfully shoved him.

She thought about the one time he'd called her Baby, the term of endearment slipping out in the middle of sex and making her laugh at his embarrassment. Suspecting that it was what he used to call Lori, she chose not to bring up the subject, instead allowing them to indulge in one another while they still had the time. Feeling him pressing soft kisses against the side of her neck she copied him, dragging her lips up along his stubbled jaw. She knew what would make him twitch in the right way, and so she darted her tongue out, feeling the rough bristles of his stubble. Stroking the other side of jaw at the same time, she trailed her fingers down his neck and to the collar of his white tee-shirt.

"You should grow your beard a little," she suggested, smoothing the creases across his shoulder.

"Really?"

"It's sexy."

He chuckled, his hands moving around her ass and squeezing it firmly. "Even when it gives you stubble rash between your legs?"

She cringed, remembering the discomfort. "Worth it."

"Was it really?"

"Yes," she insisted, kissing him firmly. "Always worth it."

Shaking his head to himself, Rick returned her kiss before brushing her hair back from her face and then trailing it through his fingers. She saw his expression falter a little when his hands got to the ends…Jessie had cut it for her again. If he noticed he didn't say anything, instead just clenching his hands in the end and using it to tilt her face up to his. Their kiss grew hot and heavy very quickly, his tongue sensually caressing her lips before entering her mouth. Matching his tone, she returned the gesture, unsurprised when she felt him pressing against her again, his erection having not waned. Nevertheless, it seemed he was still mostly restraining himself.

The tone changed, Rick slowing down and making their kiss sweet and tender. It was no wonder Carrie had feelings for him, and no wonder they got stronger when he held her body against his so affectionately. Though his lips were soft against hers, he kissed her as though he absolutely had to, as though it were the only thing in the world he wanted to do. Given the feelings she was so determinedly holding back, it was almost more than Carrie could bear, and when he reached up and affectionately stroked her neck, she had to stop herself from pulling away and blurting it all out.

With a soft sigh, Rick slowed their kiss to a stop, his lips lingering by the corner of her mouth before moving back for one more. Keeping it brief, he smiled as he looked down at her, his hand on her neck moving up and into her damp hair. A most welcome shiver ran down her spine as he stroked his fingers over the back of her head, the sensations making her want to draw him in for another kiss, needing more. But instead they lingered as they were, Rick slowly pressing his forehead against hers as he closed his eyes. Though feeling rather peaceful, Carrie felt like she was on the edge of her seat…moments like this, where they remained in silence simply being with one another, were becoming more frequent. She could feel a sort of tension between them, but not one that made them uncomfortable, one that made them anxious.

Thus far, neither of them had given any indication that they wanted more from one another, at least not one that Carrie had noticed anyway, and yet she continued hoping. Perhaps that's what the moments like this were, perhaps that's why Rick was so silent right now. As if they both knew there was something to be said, but neither entirely sure what, they kept reaching a stalemate, both of them wishing the other would speak first. Carrie knew she'd certainly be a lot happier if Rick spoke first…but maybe he just couldn't. Maybe he couldn't find the right words for what he wanted to say, and he was just simply waiting for her to go first. Though she knew it wasn't getting her anywhere, Carrie lost her nerve and began making excuses as to why she couldn't tell him right here and now.

"Is something wrong?" she enquired, trying to break the silence.

His eyes burst open, his body tensing ever so slightly. "What do you mean?"

"I mean," she started, turning her head when he tried to kiss her again, to cut her off. "There's often something wrong if you're this frisky…something worrying you?"

"Nothing's wrong. Maybe I just…" he trailed off, his next word becoming garbled as if he were stopping his train of thought. "Maybe I'm just in the mood."

"Okay," she nodded, letting it go. Kissing him once more, she gave him a gentle push to make him step back. "Thank you for your assistance, Officer."

Laughing under his breath, Rick shook his head at her in exasperation. Trailing his hands up her hips and over her waist, he finally let her be and reached for his blue Constable's shirt, shrugging it on and doing up the buttons while she turned back to her former task. Unable to find anything in the dirty laundry that she could wear, and having noted that Michonne's jeans were also soaking in laundry detergent, Carrie resigned herself to wearing her work out gear.

"I'll come see you all off before you go." Having fixed his appearance and tucked his shirt back in, he opened the laundry door and let the world outside intrude on them. "You're leaving at eleven, right?"

"Give or take half an hour," she nodded, picking up the towel she had been wearing around her wet hair.

Twirling it around and around, she waited until his back was turned and he was heading out into the hallway, and then flicked him with it as hard as she could, aiming for his ass. The fabric snapped loudly, and judging by the way he jolted and turned around with a look of outrage, she got him.

"What was that for?" he asked in confusion, one hand drifting back to soothe the sting on his left ass cheek.

Carrie just grinned, slinging the towel over her shoulder and heading upstairs. Grinning as Rick muttered something under his breath, she supposed she ought to have been a little more grateful than to flick him with her towel…after all, he'd given her a very good start to the day.

* * *

"Come on Eugene," Noah insisted, trying to make him take the Glock. "You need to protect yourself."

"Not if I don't go," he protested.

Aidan sighed, clearly frustrated. "We're not driving all that way so we can just drive back with the wrong shit."

"It's a dozen of these," Eugene insisted, holding up the black device that was the focus of their supply run that day. "They are consistent in appearance across manufacturers. The shit will be right, and I will install said shit, and the grid will be fully operational."

Resigned to wearing her workout gear on the supply run, Carrie and Tara were busy adjusting the straps of her holster so that it would stay in place, the addition of a third strap around her hips ensuring it would stay in place. Looking up at them, she listened to the debate and hoped Aidan would let it go. Eugene had somehow managed to grow on her over the last two months, but that didn't mean she wanted him coming on the supply run with them.

"You're coming with us," Aidan repeated, busy loading up their van.

"I do strongly protest, and not just on account of my natural tendency towards cowardice."

Aidan scoffed and folded his arms. "Alright, this will be interesting."

"I've been under the weather," Eugene stated, thrusting the micro inverter at Noah. "I'd feel much more comfortable being within twenty feet of my own throne at all times."

"Your throne?"

"Bathroom."

Aidan rolled his eyes and turned away. "You look fine to me, so that's the shittiest excuse I've heard for a while," he commented, exchanging a glance with Nicholas.

"Well on the topic of shit, my last bowel movement sounded like rain on a roof. I think we can all agree it's in everyone's best interests that I not be confined to a small space like the back of that van."

"He's right," Noah reluctantly admitted. "Besides, he's not just sick, he's a pain in the ass about it too."

"If explosive diarrhoea is not a good reason to verbally abuse your loved ones, then what is?"

Rolling her eyes, Carrie focused on tightening the straps of the gun holster on her other leg, testing the weight of the Glock and silencer. With no belt loops on her yoga pants, the addition of a second holster on her other leg would properly distribute the weight of the strap around her hip. Though she'd grown considerably more confident with hand guns over the last few months, and she knew the Glock was perfectly safe in her hands, it still felt strange that she was carrying another gun in addition to the Ruger she had been originally given. That gun felt like her own, she was familiar with it and confident. The Glock on the other hand, which was lighter than she had expected, was different.

"How does that feel?" Tara asked, stepping back to look her up and down. "Better?"

"Better," she agreed, bouncing from one foot to the other to check how well her weapons held up. "I kind of feel like Lara Croft or something," she laughed, securing her knife and machete to her hip.

"No," Eugene disagreed, he too looking her up and down. "Aside from your short blonde hair, you'd have to go up at least two cup sizes to be even comparable to the Tomb Raider."

"Eugene…" Tara said incredulously. "We talked about this."

"About Carrie's breasts? Yes, we talked about them extensively."

"About you being inappropriate!"

He shrugged obliviously. His eyes zoning in on Carrie's chest, he stupidly continued. "When we first met I thought 32B, but now on second thought I'm learning towards a C cup."

Carrie sighed. "And the token has spoken," she growled, glaring at him as she hastily shrugged her on jacket and pulled the front across her chest. "Eugene's staying. Let's go."

There was a murmur of assent from all around, the onlookers like Reg and Deanna simply shaking their heads in mild amusement. Thoroughly relieved to be left behind, Eugene backed away from the van as they all began piling in the back, Aidan and Nicholas taking the front.

"This is why Noah's invited to the girls night, and you're not," Tara said to him.

"There's going to be a girls night?" Eugene enquired, his interest piqued. "Is it a slumber party?"

Completely exasperated, Carrie picked up the bag of emergency supplies and tossed it into the back of the van, Noah and Tara getting inside first. As she waited for them to get comfortable and make room, she looked up the road to where Glenn was lingering, for although she didn't want to rush him, she was keen to hit the road. He stood with Rick, Carl and Maggie, whose shirt was lifted to reveal her swollen belly. Positively beaming, Maggie was encouraging Carl to follow Glenn's lead by placing his hand on her belly, making him press his fingers in a little. Watching them, Carrie felt a pang of jealousy, one she had been feeling more often as Maggie's pregnancy progressed.

Having children was a concept she'd vaguely looked forward to back in her old life, something that she felt she couldn't achieve until she'd reached a certain point in her career. She'd been more focused on earning her name and reputation than starting a family with Logan, and she'd never regretted her priorities until moments like now. Even when her marriage had fallen apart, she'd still looked forward to the vague concept of having children one day, but when the world crumbled too she'd written off the idea completely. The idea of becoming a mother in this world was not one she was willing to entertain, no matter how safe or settled in she began to feel in Alexandria. So while Maggie's belly grew with her future child, Carrie's heart filled with envy. Glenn and Maggie were so happy, and though Carrie smiled and celebrated each milestone of the pregnancy, it was hard to truly share their happiness in the midst of her jealousy.

To her surprise, Rick looked up as if he could feel her watching them. He smiled and gave a brief wave, his gaze lingering on her for a moment before he turned to Glenn. Glenn looked back at her now, apologetically waving his hand and requesting just another moment. Feeling bad for inadvertently rushing him, she turned back and farewelled Reg and Deanna, giving them a reassuring nod before noticing Eugene. Predictably, his eyes were practically glued to her ass, making no apologies for it either.

Infuriated, Carrie started to say something, determined to tell Eugene to get his eyes off her ass and her chest too, but what came out was, "They're at least a D cup."

Without skipping a beat, Eugene looked back to her chest. "I'd be happy to verify that claim," he said with a dead panned expression.

"You -" she started, taking a step forward before forcibly cutting herself off. She stood there glaring at him, struggling to think of an intelligent retort. Giving up, she growled under her breath before turning away and seeking refuge in the back of the van with the others. Noah and Tara were laughing at her, echoed by Nicholas in the front seat.

"Unbelievable, isn't he?" Tara commented.

Carrie sighed, knowing she had let Eugene get her riled up. "Just when he grows on me, he says something like that."

"Is he wrong?" Noah enquired.

"Noah!"

"I'm just saying," he shrugged, giving that boyish grin that gave away his younger age. "I'm willing to verify your size too."

Despite her frustration at Eugene, the similar comment coming from Noah didn't annoy her quite as much, perhaps because they were a lot closer. It was difficult not to like Noah and the others, particularly when they seemed to spend so much time together doing runs or helping out around Alexandria.

"Whoops, forgot the new run mix," Aidan declared, the van's suspension jostling as he swiftly jumped out of the driver's seat. "Be back in a sec."

The occupants of the van groaned in unison, Aidan laughing at their expense as he slammed the door shut and took off back to his house.

"Sorry guys," Nicholas apologised, not being a fan of Aidan's music either. "I really thought he was going to forget it this time."

Resigned to their fate, the group settled in and got comfortable for the forty five minute drive into Washington, making room for Glenn when he finally joined them. Carrie looked out the back doors and caught Rick's eye, giving him a smile.

"Hey, don't forget," Maggie called out to them. "It's Spaghetti Tuesday."

They nodded and waved, all except Nicholas. "But it's Wednesday…"

"What's your point?" the other four replied in unison, laughing at their inside joke as Glenn slammed the rear doors shut.

"Where did Aidan go?" he asked.

"The run mix."

Glenn sighed, getting comfortable. "It draws them away from home, I guess. So…girls night? Am I invited?"

"Are you a girl?" Tara answered his question with a question.

"Noah's invited!"

"You really wanna join us?"

"Not really," he shrugged. "But why aren't I invited?"

"Because Maggie can't gossip about you if you're there," Carrie answered this time. "We don't really have gossip about Noah."

"Well," Tara began with a sly grin, looking at Noah as she spoke. "Except for-"

"Hey, you promised!" he protested. "Pinky swear is sacred."

"I know, I know," Tara nodded her head, winking at him before changing the subject. "So, Maggie, huh?"

Carrie sighed internally…this again.

"We were meant to have another ultrasound today," Glenn said, beaming despite his disappointment. "Pete was going to try to see the gender."

"Awwwww," Tara sighed. "I think it's a boy," she decided.

Noah shook his head. "It's a girl. Carrie?"

"Oh, um," she said, feeling put on the spot. "A girl," she said, going with the last thing she had heard.

"You can feel it moving then, huh?"

"Kind of. You can't really feel anything right now, but sometimes it feels like Maggie's got gas."

Tara laughed. "That's because she does have gas. She's as bad as Eugene when he eats dairy and garlic!

Noah groaned at this, sitting back dejectedly. "It's not funny guys…I share a bathroom with him."

Glad for the change of subject, Carrie happily laughed at Noah's misfortune of who he shared a room with. To Noah's relief, Aidan returned to the van with a whoop of success, and their attention was turned to the dreadful techno music he liked to play. Apparently the rules of shot gun still applied after the world had gone to shit, and given that he knew the roads in Washington best, Aidan usually drove.

"Let's hit the road," he declared, starting the engine and then looking into the back. "We've got the inverter, right?"

"Got it," Noah promised, showing it to him.

"Alright, let's get this shit done."

There was a brief moment of silence as the van began to depart, Carrie looking through the windscreen as the townhouses moved past and then disappeared, the solar panels passing next. However the silence was only temporary, and much to everyone's annoyance Aidan's new run mix kicked in and started playing loudly.

 _"Now you're going to die."_


	27. Chapter 27

Rick had lied to Carrie that morning.

Glenn and Aidan had just stopped by, explaining to Rick the problem with the solar panels and what they needed to get it fixed. Requiring new micro-inverters to get their grid up and running again, a supply run into Washington was the only solution, and it had to be today. Bad weather seemed to be approaching, and they could only run their generators for so long. Most refrigerators had been either connected to a generator or emptied, their contents relocated to a neighbours', but that solution would only last so long. Once the meat began to spoil, particularly in the Pantry freezer, they would be in a dire situation.

So the supply run was being organised, the usual crew coming together to head out and take what they needed, and although Rick always worried about his people, today he worried just a little more. The place they were going was near to the city, and they knew it was populated with Walkers…but a place like that? A warehouse? Rick and his people were no stranger to clearing out a warehouse, and knew that entire place would be full of surprises. What's more, he could tell that Glenn was worried, that the urgency of the run had set him on edge. This wasn't how he liked to organise his crew, typically preferring to take their time to prepare, to check out the place they'd be scavenging. The fact that Glenn was worried only furthered Rick's concerns.

Yet when Carrie asked him what was worrying him, he had lied.

He didn't want to dampen her cheerful mood, nor her apparent confidence in the supply run. Her confidence was not like Aidan's thinly veiled arrogance, but a belief in herself and her group, one she'd worked hard to develop. Telling her that he was concerned about the run would only put her on edge, and she'd begin to share his worries too, unconsciously or not. But that wasn't the only reason either…an innocent remark Carrie had made immediately gave him cause for other concerns. It wasn't the first time she had mentioned how frisky he got when he was worried about something, when he was stressed and carried the weight of the world. Their entire relationship was based on scratching and itch and providing a pleasant distraction, and while Rick was self-aware enough to know he'd begun using sex to avoid his problems, he didn't want her to think that way anymore. He didn't want her thinking he only sought her out for one reason. So he had hidden his true feelings, denying that anything was amiss.

The whole notion of keeping his feelings from her was starting to get old. He knew what it was that he felt, he'd recognised what it was weeks ago, and he had every intention of doing something about it. He was working himself up to telling her, mentally trying to plan what he'd say. But no matter what he did, he kept getting caught up in his 'recovery plan', trying to prepare himself for potential rejection. A part of him knew she wasn't going to do that, suspecting that perhaps she felt the same way about him, but that didn't make matters any easier. Despite this, he knew how much Carrie had worked in order to integrate into his group, to put her trust in him and his way of doing things…he owed her enough to at least try to take their relationship further.

And so he would…soon.

It didn't help him that every time they found themselves alone together, they always seemed to have other things on their mind than talking. She hadn't been out as much as she liked since the incident with the Wolf, for everyone had been rather busy, and so it was a pleasant surprise that morning when she put on her workout clothes. It never took much to get him in the mood, but certainly seeing Carrie in her work out gear always helped. When she'd come home he'd taken liberty to rake his eyes over her body, letting them linger on her ass as she walked past him into the kitchen, hiding a smile as he thought about her tattoo. He probably liked it more than he ought to, but it just suited her so well…he liked that unless Rosita or Michonne had seen it on the supply run, he was the only one who knew about it.

He'd been trying to play hard to get, the idea occurring as soon as she started coming on to him right there in the kitchen. Asking where everyone else was and then remarking that they were all alone, she had given him that small smile, and damn if she didn't know what she was doing when she rolled her shoulders back and pressed her arms against her side. Though he'd tried not to be so obvious about it, he suspected she'd caught him looking at her breasts, his blood burning hot as he pictured peeling that stupid tank top off her. So for some reason he tried playing hard to get, something he'd immediately regretted. Turned out she played that game too, only she played it a little better. Not only did she pretend to accept his rejection, she went upstairs and took her clothes off to take a shower, and it was impossible not to picture it. Hell, he didn't even care that the shower would have been cold. He was willing to bear that if it meant being with her for a short while, running his hands over her naked body and kissing her, laughing with her too.

It had only been Michonne's brief arrival back at home that had stopped him joining Carrie upstairs. She'd returned to grab a quick bite to eat before taking over watch, and to his annoyance she seemed to be in the mood for small talk, catching him up on where Carl was and that the construction crew had departed. While normally he appreciated her update on things, that morning it was most unwelcome. By the time she had left, his only opportunity was to pounce on Carrie in the laundry room, and so he'd made the best of it. Still thinking about the rather pleasant way she had awoken him the day before, he eagerly set about returning the favour. Ignoring his urge to simply bend her over and screw her right then and there, he'd slowly set about driving her crazy, waiting until she was frustrated enough before giving her what she wanted.

It was as much for his benefit as it was for hers, Rick taking great enjoyment from her pleasure despite not seeking his own release. It had been his intention that they go upstairs to her room, but a sudden flash from outside the laundry window had startled him, and though he knew it was only a bird flying past it was enough to remind him of reality. Still, the sounds she made, the way her body moved and felt around his fingers…that was going to keep him going all day. All he had to do now was get Carl out of the house that night so that he could join Carrie in her bedroom. They'd finally have more than fifteen minutes to spend with one another, something he was certain she wanted as well.

Speaking of Carl, Rick began paying attention again, having briefly let his mind wander. Looking down at the crown of his son's head, he let out a full bodied laugh, the type he hadn't released for a long time. Carl was growling and straining at him, frustrated by Rick's expertise sparring. Following the altercation with Ron and the simulation gun a few weeks ago, Carl had been asking Rick for more training in certain things, training that he was more than happy to provide. Having practiced for months, Carl had expertly been able to disarm Ron of the gun he initially thought to be real, handling himself well in the face of a threat. He'd already taught Carl how to throw a decent punch, others like Daryl and Abraham always having something to teach too, and he was an eager student.

After they had farewelled the run crew at eleven o'clock, Rick had gone on his usual walk outside the walls, unsurprised to find Carl waiting for him on the inside. He offered to take him out for brief stroll, knowing he had to facilitate that lest he start sneaking out again, but Carl had shook his head and made his own suggestion. Despite Rick technically still being on duty, according to Deanna at least, they'd gone to the open area across from their house to start sparring, Carl asking about a few moves he'd seen in a movie. Though he was disappointed to tell his son that he wasn't exactly Jackie Chan, they'd been working on a few things when Carl started getting cocky. He'd landed a few good punches to Rick's side, and though they were well within their acceptable nature for sparring, he felt he had some ground to recover. Taking advantage of his height, he'd simply put his hand on the crown of Carl's head and then held him back, laughing at the way he struggled and fought against him, desperately trying to charge forward.

"Dad, stop it!" Carl moaned, pausing for a moment before wildly swinging his fists again, not getting them anywhere near Rick's body. "You said you would teach me stuff."

"I am. I'm teaching you to eat humble pie."

"Oh yeah? I'll teach you to eat dirt!"

Rick laughed again, simply moving in tandem with him as he tried a different angle. "That's big talk for a kid who can't even reach me."

Growling under his breath, Carl backed off and stood up, looking at Rick in exasperation. "Dad…"

"Dad…" he copied.

Carl's expression darkened, his eyes narrowing, but Rick could tell he was having fun. Without warning he lunged again, stupidly going head first as if he'd be able to tackle his father. Hastily stepping back, Rick put his hand back on the crown of his head and held him at arms length again, rejoicing in his moan of frustration.

"Dad, stop it!"

"Dad, stop it!"

"Seriously!" he said in outrage, his arms flailing to reach him.

"Seriously!"

There was a short pause, Carl wrapping his hands around Rick's wrist, his fingers digging in. Though Rick was prepared to reprimand him, he knew Carl wouldn't break their rules of sparring. It was fair play only, and that meant no biting, scratching or serious blows. Though Carl's fingertips dug in, he didn't scratch, but he did grunt and whine as he tried to forcibly push Rick's hand off his head. Unable to help himself, Rick copied the sounds he made.

"Stop copying me!"

"Stop copying me!"

"That's not even what I sound like," he sighed, straightening again as he gave up. "It's not," he protested when Rick copied him again.

"My name's Carl," Rick began, giving him the opportunity to take control from him. "I cheat at Monopoly!"

"I don't cheat!" he argued, lunging a third time before backing off halfway through.

"Yes, you do."

"I really thought I rolled a six, it was a mistake!"

Rick laughed again, astounded by Carl's dedication to the belief that he didn't cheat. "You just can't handle your old man sending you bankrupt."

"It's not an even playing field, you've been play…" he trailed off with a sigh, giving up. "Are you going to teach me or not?"

"Yes, alright," he conceded, seeing that Carl was getting close to the end of his patience. "But you've got to be able to handle your old man picking on you."

"Grandpa didn't pick on you."

"Yes, he did," he assured him, remembering this same thing with his own father. "It's the circle of life, you'll do it to your kids too." As he expected he might, Carl screwed his face up at this remark, looking rather displeased by it.

Having had his fun teasing his son, Rick got back to teaching the things he needed to know, the two of them running through a couple of moves again and again until Carl got it perfect. He could see the young man's frustration, the desire to perfect these moves instantly, and he constantly had to remind him it was about muscle memory. It had been Daryl who first told him that fighting and self defence was like a dance, just a series of choreographed moves you improvised with, but he supposed Carl was still coming around to this way of thinking. He had almost no practical application for the things he was learning, and though Rick hoped to keep it that way, that Carl never needed to physically defend himself against an opponent, he knew that wouldn't be the case. And so they practiced again and again, Rick strategically choosing when and how often to feign failure in order to give Carl a sense of success. Although he probably knew Rick was feigning, the same way he occasionally lost a game of chess, the few punches Carl landed seemed to boost his confidence.

"You dropped your hands again!" Rick scolded him, beginning to feel he was becoming over confident. Quickly reaching out towards Carl's face, he seized the end of his nose between his fingers and squeezed it tightly. "Got your nose!"

"Dad!" Carl protested loudly, his voice nasally as he seized Rick's hand and tried to push it away. "Dad, let me go!"

"I told you to protect your face, and you keep dropping your hands. You want a broken nose?"

With a long sigh Carl submitted, dropping his hands and staring up at Rick glumly. "Fine, I get it. Can I have my nose back now?"

Drawing it out a moment longer, Rick grinned before releasing him, amused by the way Carl rubbed his face. "You going to protect your face this time, Justin?"

"Don't call me that!"

"I'm sorry. Do you prefer Mr Bieber?" This remark earned Rick a swift punch to the side, one he only just managed to block. "Good one."

"I'm sick of you calling me Bieber."

"And I'm sick of you having longer hair than your sister. Get a hair cut an…" Rick trailed off when he saw an opportunity, and he swiftly reached out and seized the end of Carl's nose again. "You dropped your hands again. That's three times now."

Sighing again, Carl's shoulders slumped as he looked at Rick's hand on his nose. "Sorry."

"You're going to have to learn to keep your head in a fight," Rick warned him, letting go of his nose and taking a step back. "Someone attacking you is going to antagonise you, try to get you all worked up just like I am now. You've got to be smarter than them, you've got to keep your cool. Got it?"

Though he huffed and his shoulders slumped, Carl nodded, taking the advice in. "Got it."

"You're lucky you didn't do this in front of Daryl," Rick teased again, though he was pleased when Carl gave no reaction. "Come on, we got ten minutes left before you have to go to school."

"Do I have to go?"

Though he'd answered this question many a time, Rick answered it again. "Yes. And don't pretend it's absolutely awful. I know you have fun," he remarked, jabbing his fist towards Carl's face. "Good!" he praised when his hands blocked him. "Now keep them up, keep going."

They continued in this fashion until the very last minute, Rick reluctantly drawing their session to a close so that Carl could go and get ready for school. Playfully ruffling his hand through Carl's hair, he was grateful for the short bursts of time together like this, remembering how Carl had been in the days and weeks following the Wolf's appearance outside the walls, the Wolf he had shot. When Rick hadn't been able to spend time with him, he'd taken it in his stride at fist, understanding that it was how things had to be, but slowly, day by day, Carl had turned restless and agitated. What had at first seemed like his son being an annoying brat actually stemmed from a genuine lack of attention, and since then he'd tried to rectify his own parenting failure in this aspect. He was slowly learning to delegate, and tried to take advantage of the time he had with Carl rather than occupying himself with other tasks that felt too urgent to be set aside. The community had celebrated Mother's Day last weekend, and like a few key others Rick and Carl had chosen to sit the festivities out. Just like last year they hadn't been in the mood to celebrate, and so instead spent the afternoon at home while most others enjoyed an afternoon barbecue down by the lake. It had been exactly what the two of them needed on that day, Carl in particular.

Despite the efforts he was making with his children, Rick was conscious of the fact that he also needed to care of himself, of his own needs and desires. With that in mind, he briefly let his mind wander back to Carrie, remembering something he had told her before she left, that he would try to get Carl out of the house that evening.

"You know, it's been a while since you've spent the night at your friends' place," Rick remarked as they came home, seeing Carol and Judith in the kitchen eating lunch.

"Yeah, I know," Carl shrugged nonchalantly, finding something to eat before school.

"Well, maybe you should," he suggested. "I've got more of a social life than you right now."

Carl scoffed at this, both he and Carol giving Rick a wry look. "Yeah, sure," Carl said, shaking his head. Opening the refrigerator, he took out a bowl of left overs and took small serving, offering it to everyone else too.

Not pushing the subject, Rick let it linger in Carl's mind for a few minutes. As he knew he would, Carl spoke next.

"Maybe, I could have everyone over here for the night?"

Rick exchanged a glance with Carol, politely gauging if this was a bother to her. "You could," he agreed when he saw no sign of protest from Carol. Ron and Mikey had spent the night a few times before, Enid too, the four of them innocently camping out in the living room and falling asleep watching a movie. "I think you've earned it," he remarked, this not exactly being a lie. Setting aside a few occasions when he'd been a right pain in the ass, Carl had been ridiculously well behaved over the last few months. Besides, even if he couldn't get Carl out of the house, getting him out of their shared bedroom would be enough to get Rick into Carrie's.

"Okay, cool," Carl shrugged. "Thanks," he added, not realising that he was the one doing Rick a favour, not the other way around. "I'll see if the others want to."

"Don't forget your homework," he reminded him. Kissing Judith on the forehead, he began heading for the door, talking to Carol as he went. "I'm taking a walk inside the walls. I won't be too long."

"Don't forget I need to go back to Natalie's this afternoon, and it's Spaghetti Tuesday. You're cooking."

Nodding in acknowledgement, Rick departed and began his slow, leisurely walk, one whose main purpose was to let people see him in his uniform, at least according to Deanna anyway. On that note, he didn't understand why she wanted him to continue this role…no one in the community held much trust in him, and they needed to have that in their law enforcement. To Rick, the Constable shirt, tie and wind breaker was more of a costume than a uniform, something he wore occasionally as part of a comprise with Deanna. He missed his Sheriff's uniform, having never liked wearing ties or not being able to roll up his sleeves. Despite this, he tolerated the uniform and the so-called duties, one of which presented themselves to him two houses up. As he walked past Jessie and Pete's open garage he glanced in curiously, finding Jessie cleaning up what looked like one hell of a mess.

"Hey," he greeted her, slowing to a stop and taking a look a the pile of metal in the middle of the floor. Quickly recognising it as the owl statue she'd been crafting, he was glad he didn't ask what the heap of junk was.

"Hey," she replied dejectedly.

"What happened?"

"I don't know," she shook her head, standing up with a sigh. "Maybe somebody doesn't like Owls?"

Rick frowned and then invited himself in. "Someone came in here, and did this?" he questioned, crouching down and taking a better look. He recognised the pieces a little better, having watched this statue being assembled piece by piece on Jessie's porch.

"Stuff like this…it never happens here," she remarked sadly, standing there with her hands on her hips and looking at the mess.

Sighing to himself, Rick automatically thought of the first question he needed to ask, the old procedure coming to him as though it was yesterday. "You got any…enemies?" he asked, looking up at her with a short laugh. Jessie smiled now, laughing at him in exasperation. "You know anybody who hates owls?"

Jessie laughed again, picking up a piece and tossing it onto the tool cart.

"Too bad there isn't someone who can look into this kind of thing," he said, beginning to stand up. "I'll ask around."

"No, you don't have to."

Rick shrugged, indicating that he didn't mind.

Jessie seemed to raise her eyebrows at him, although not rudely. "Okay, so you find the person who did this, and then what?"

"Some kind of consequences. You ever heard about the broken window theory?" He explained when she shook her head. "It boils down to this…you keep the windows in tact, you keep society in tact."

Though she seemed grateful for his concern, it appeared Jessie didn't want to bother him. "This was just an owl, Rick," she smiled.

"Yeah," he agreed, sharing her smile as he began to leave. "Yeah, but I gotta do something today."

He admitted to himself that he didn't ask around about the statue because he cared so much, but because he genuinely wanted something to do…anything. It was always a tense and stressful wait when the run crew were out, but today Rick felt the stress even more so. Normally they had time to plan the run ahead of time, to scout the area and make sure they were adequately prepared. But the warehouse in the city? This run was being planned on the go at short notice, and he suspected that they'd be slightly more daring than usual, that they'd take greater risks. Normally they were conservative with their choices, most of the items like the cabling for the surveillance system being non-essential. It sounded indulgent that getting their electricity up and running was a priority, but it was about more than running the lights and having hot water. Barbara's son Connor suffered from asthma, and typically slept with a humidifier running in his bedroom, not to mention Bob and Natalie who were too old and frail to be getting around in the dark. Though they could run the humidifier off a battery and Carol was planning to spend the night at Bob and Natalie's house, there was still the frozen food to be considered.

Trying to occupy himself while he awaited the run crew's return, Rick asked around to see if anyone had heard Jessie's owl go crashing to the ground, if they remembered who had they had seen out and about during the day. Any resident he spoke to seemed equally concerned that someone had done that, and surprised that Rick was enquiring about it…after all, according to Carter most of them seemed to think he didn't care about them. Perhaps Deanna was right…perhaps his uniform did serve a purpose.

In the end, Rick was forced to close the case unsolved and return home, breathing a sigh of relief when he removed his tie and ditched his shirt in favour of a tee-shirt instead. Despite his worry about Glenn and the run crew lingering in the back of his mind he did his best to relax and pass the time, helping Judith stack her wooden blocks as high as she possibly could get them. Each time they tumbled down with a loud chatter she would beam in delight, enjoying the loud sound of the solid wood echoing across the floor. Carl had made these blocks for her, having been spending time in Tobin's woodshed as he built a crib for Glenn and Maggie. Carl had made these blocks by hand, soldering letters and shapes onto each of the sides. They were a beautiful set that would last for years and be passed on to Maggie's baby, but the solid wood hurt like a bitch when Judith threw them at an unsuspecting playmate.

"A book?" he said, faking a smile when she later brought over some picture books and handed them to him. "Pat the Bunny, and Baby's 100 Words again. What a delightful surprise," he said through gritted teeth.

Judith sat herself down in his lap and looked up at him expectantly, patting his hand when he didn't open a book straight away. Choosing the smallest one first, he sighed when she protested and reached for the other instead. She always had to make her choice known, always wanting the last word.

"Good thing I love you," he grumbled as he opened the book of her choice. He'd always disliked the task of reading to his children, quickly tiring of reading the same picture books again and again. Nevertheless he went to the effort with Judith just as he had when Carl was little, knowing how much they loved it. "You better remember this when I'm an old man and I need your help to find my teeth."

Opening the book, he checked his watch out of habit, annoyed to see that the run crew had only been gone for only an hour and a half. There was never any telling how soon they would return, their timeline dependant on so many factors that those at home could not be privy to. Watching the time pass incrementally, Rick read Judith the same books again and again, and by the time thirty minutes had passed he was actually praying to God for a reprieve, wishing she wasn't enjoying this so much. As if God had heard him, there was a knock at the front door, but Rick looked up apprehensively. The last time he asked God for a favour, Carl got shot. Seeing through the front window that it was Pete, he affirmed his belief that God was an asshole.

"Hey Rick," Pete said the moment he opened the door, holding up a beer bottle. "I was having a beer, I thought I'd bring you one…for helping my wife today."

Stepping back as Pete automatically came inside, Rick hid a sigh of annoyance. They had six people out on a run, and their best doctor was having afternoon drinks. "Uhhh, I'm good, but thanks."

"Oh come on," Pete shook his head, a waft of alcohol indicating this was not his first drink. "Don't tell me you're still on duty."

"Well, I kind of always am."

There was a short pause, Pete looking at Rick with a slight air of confusion. Walking past him and looking into the living room, Pete nodded to himself as if he understood. "I see…baby sitting duty, huh?"

Seeing that Pete was looking at Judith, Rick felt his hackles raise protectively. Pete's interest in determining Judith's blood type was not only unwelcome, but something that Rick worried about more than once. Every time Pete mentioned Judith or saw her in passing, he was prepared to shut down the conversation about her health, to make it clear that doctor or not, it was not up for discussion. By now Pete surely realised that something was up, that Judith's paternity must not be certain. Why else would her otherwise loving father not allow her blood to be tested and typed.

"How's she going?" Pete asked, his voice louder than necessary. Leaning against the column by the dining table, he watched Judith as she picked up one of the books and peered at it. "The other day, Carol was worried that she was constipated?"

Rick shook his head. "She's fine now."

"You give her those drops I recommended?"

 _Be polite…be polite_. "Actually, we tried to some prune juice and pear first. Worked a treat."

Pete nodded, apparently pleased to hear this. "And what about that scrape on her chin? How's that?"

 _That happened three weeks ago_. "It healed fine."

Nodding again, Pete took a sip of his beer. Persistent, he held out the other beer to Rick, who politely refused it yet again. "Tell me about how her speech is coming on," Pete started. "I've hear-"

"I wish I could have helped out more today, with Jessie" Rick cut him off. This was not going to turn into Judith's one year old check up Pete had been nagging about. "I asked around, but nobody saw anything."

Pete gave a short laugh, looking at Rick in amusement. "It is just an owl," he said slowly. "Grand scheme of things, I think we'll live."

Looking at him, Rick maintained an air of polite interest while he scrutinised Pete, finding he was rather unimpressed by him. He was sweaty and dishevelled, and it was clear that this was not his first beer of the day…it was barely even one o'clock. To further his frustration, it appeared Pete wasn't done with Judith.

"Her hand-eye coordination looks good," he commented, frowning as he brought his hand to his mouth for a moment. He cleared his throat and then continued, having poorly stifled a burp. "How's she eat? Does she use a spoon yet?"

"Yes."

Pete wandered into the living room now, and though Rick opened his mouth to say something, to stop him, he stopped short. What was he supposed to say? Short of telling him of fuck off, there was no way he could explain why Pete was the only resident in Alexandria whom he didn't want near his daughter, not without bringing up a topic he refused to discuss. Trying to think of how to turn the conversation away from her, he scrounged his mind for something else to talk about, needing something to tide them over until Pete realised he had overstayed his welcome…not that a welcome had been extended in the first place.

Why the hell was Pete even here? Since the incident with the Wolf three weeks ago when Rick had forcibly told Pete that he wouldn't allow him to save the man, he'd been firmly at the top of the doctor's shit list. Then with what came after, the Walker, the gun training, forcing Pete to give medical training and work with Denise…Rick should be the last person he wanted to share a beer with. Glancing at the front door, he figured that now would be a good time for someone else to come home. But Michonne was on watch, Carl would be at school all afternoon, and Carol was back at Natalie and Bob's house. If there was ever a time for Eugene to come and raid their fridge it was now.

Putting the two beer bottles on the dining room table, Pete gave a long sigh as he sat down on the floor with Judith, holding out some blocks the get her attention. This was definitely turning into her one year check up, and Rick knew where that would lead them to. Just as he was about to say something, to lie that he needed to put Judith down for a nap, Pete spoke first.

"So," he began, trying to coax Judith to come over to him. "Carrie's looking very well these days."

Rick was surprised by the sudden change of topic. "Yeah."

Pete continued as if they were just making every day conversation. "She's put on weight, that bruise on her leg has healed," he continued. "She's in good health."

"Good to know," he said shortly, wondering why Pete deemed it necessary to tell him this. Had the end of the world negated patient confidentiality?

Either not detecting or ignoring Rick's tone of voice, Pete continued talking about her. "I know she's _getting some_ too," he said, giving Rick a pointed look and then winking. "She regularly frequents our contraceptives cupboard."

Rick hackles were immediately raised, his eyes narrowing ever so slightly. It was Carrie who kept the RV and her nightstand stocked with condoms, happily taking that responsibility given that they didn't want Carl to catch Rick with them. "Getting some?" he asked, as if confused.

" _Getting some_ ," Pete smiled, winking again. "I know you are too."

He opened his mouth to start saying something, to shut this conversation down before it could go any further, but he stopped himself. What the hell was he supposed to say to that? What was Pete even playing at? Plenty of people knew or suspected that Rick and Carrie were sleeping together, but no one had been rude enough to mention it as far as he was aware. And now Pete was? Rendered speechless, Rick simply peered at him in silence, apprehensive for what he was going to say next.

Watching Pete closely, Rick felt a surge of pride for his daughter, immediately vowing to read to her as often as she liked. She considered Pete with the same type of expression she had originally given her new crib, with uncertainty and general distaste. Though she normally took quite well to those outside her family, she seemed uninterested in Pete's attempt to entice her with toys. In her hands she held another of the wooden blocks that he was showing her, but rather than go to him she came over to Rick. She passed him the block with a sweet smile and then turned to look at Pete, lingering by Rick's side for a moment before heading back to her toys. Still giving him a wide berth, she seemed to be deciding how she felt about his presence.

"She's been asking about birth control too," Pete continued, making Rick scramble to catch up and remember they had been talking about Carrie. "She's really interested in starting that, but I said wait. She got finally got her period last week, so I'd like her to have a few cycles first. Then she asked about-"

"Pete, why are you telling me this?" he asked bluntly, having had enough. Pete was dominating what was turning into a very sensitive conversation, and Rick was done trying to keep up with him.

Shaking his head, Pete seemed to brush him off. "Don't worry, I'm sure she wouldn't mind me telling you these things. After all, you two are sleeping together."

Though one hand Rick was inclined to agree, having learned nothing about Carrie that he didn't already know, on the other hand he wondered how frequently Pete divulged personal information to others. "Actually, I think she'd rather you maintain her privacy. After all, you're her doctor."

Not saying anything in reply, Pete simply switched to the next topic without hesitation. "She walks very well," he commented, watching as Judith brought Rick another block and handed it to him. "Does she often wear shoes as well as going bare foot?"

Rick did not answer. Straightening his stance a little, he looped his thumb around his duty belt and stared at Pete, still trying to figure out what he was playing at.

"I've been watching her for a while, seeing how she progressed. She started out a little bowlegged at the start, which is perfectly normal," he assured Rick as if nothing were amiss between them. "But she's straightened out now…obviously doesn't get her walk from you," he commented, looking up at him.

There was absolutely no mistaking what Pete was getting at, that he was trying to open the conversation of her paternity. The smug look on his face told Rick that his instincts were right, that what had probably started as genuine concern over Judith's blood type had now developed into something Pete could use against him. Taking a step closer, Rick sought to take control of the conversation back, thoroughly done dealing with this asshole.

"Is there something you need to say, Pete?" he asked. Keeping his voice low, he tilted his head and looked at him, daring him to continue.

To his frustration, it seemed Pete was either too confident or too drunk to realise he ought to be intimidated. He smiled at Rick politely, and there was a tense moment in which both men knew what the other was doing. Giving the type of boyish grin that Rick wanted to wipe off his face, Pete turned his gaze back to Judith, pleased when she finally came over to him and took the block he offered.

"How's Carl's leg?"

"You ought to know. You saw him two weeks ago for his final check."

"Yeah," he nodded slowly as if he had only just remembered. "But…where were you?"

"I was busy." Given Pete's poor disposition towards Rick, it had been Glenn who accompanied Carl to have Pete assess the healed gunshot injury.

"Busy," Pete mused. Making himself comfortable in Rick's home, he stretched out his legs and leant back against the dining chair, trying to solidify his presence there. "So how does he feel about you and Carrie?"

This was the last straw, Rick knowing exactly what he was getting at. "Pete," he growled lowly. "You need to be very careful about what you say next."

Still unintimidated, Pete pretended to look confused. "Oh, you mean he doesn't know?" Laughing to himself, he smacked his forehead with his palm. "I'll have to watch myself. Sometimes my mouth just gets carried away with me."

Before he knew it, Rick started forward, squaring himself up for a fight, his hands curling into fists as he unconsciously reached for his Colt. It was only finding his holster empty that he remembered it was in his safe, that he remembered where he was. He stood barely three feet from Pete, who was still too stupid to be intimidated by him. But in that moment it wasn't just Pete he was furious with…he was furious with himself too, for he should have seen this coming. He'd well and truly pissed this man off over the last few weeks, but to make matters worse, he was now showing him all his cards, all his weaknesses. Carl, Judith and Carrie…Rick had failed to hide his major vulnerabilities, and now Pete was going for the kill.

How the hell did a drunk asshole like him manage to get under Rick's skin? Questioning this, he took a slow breath and re-evaluated his course of action, just like he had with Carter the other week. In a rare occurrence, his first instincts were completely off. He was going about this the wrong way. Dogging Pete's heels every step of this conversation, he was being reactive to the problem rather than proactive. Changing tact, he relaxed his body language and then stepped back. From the corner of his eye he took note of Judith, pleased to see she had sat down on her little couch to look at a tennis ball.

"Scary…isn't it?" Rick started, his voice barely more than a murmur.

Finally, he got the reaction he needed. Just like Rick had been before, Pete was thrown by the sudden change of topic, by his opponent's new approach and tone of voice.

"What's scary?"

"Not being the only doctor anymore."

Pete's expression darkened, and his eyes narrowed. He started to say something, but wanting control, Rick cut him off straight away.

"Denise is rather good…better than any of us expected her to be. The others too, you're training them all so well."

As Rick trailed off for a moment, Pete set aside Judith's blocks and slowly got to his feet. Knowing exactly what was being implied he started to say something, raising his hand and pointing at Rick aggressively. Just like before, Rick didn't let him get a single word out.

"It must feel like you're…what's the word? _Replaceable_."

His upper lip curling into a snarl, Pete started forward. "You-"

"What?" Rick interrupted. Acting strategically, he moved backwards not out of self-concern, but to bring Pete away from Judith. If this escalated, they needed to give her a wide berth. Pete followed him, and though he stood taller, Rick was not perturbed.

"I'm goi-"

"What? You're going to what?" he goaded.

Snapping, Pete lunged for him with a low growl, his hands reaching for Rick's neck. His inebriation and slow reflexes allowed Rick to easy catch his hands and shove him, using just enough force to throw him off balance. Staggering back and blinking stupidly, Pete swore in frustration as he tried to find his centre of gravity before coming back towards him.

"Don't," Rick told him abruptly, putting his hand up in front of him. "Don't come any closer, or I will hurt you."

"You think you have authority here?" Pete shouted loudly, his face turning red as he advanced on Rick. "You think you ca-"

"Dad?"

At the sound of the tentative voice Pete stopped in his tracks and whirled around, his gaze falling on his youngest son who stood at the front door. Sam, the sweet but annoying kid who refused to call Rick anything other than Mr Grimes, stood there in the doorway, looking between the two men with wide, frightened eyes. Realising he had been caught in a sense, Pete slowly stepped away from Rick and turned on a charming facade for his son's benefit.

"Hey, Sam…you looking for me?" he asked his son.

Standing there awkwardly, Sam looked between Rick and Pete, his fingers nervously fidgeting before he put his hands in his pockets. He shook his head. "I'm looking for Carol." There was a short pause as Sam thought about what he said next. "Is she home, Mr Grimes?"

"No, she's not," he answered, looking at Pete now. "But she'll be home real soon. You can play with Judith while you wait if you'd like."

Delight overtaking his worry, Sam was halfway inside before he stopped himself. "Dad…is that okay?"

It seemed Pete was left with no other choice. "Of course," he said slowly, looking at Rick. "Thank you, Rick."

Not saying anything, Rick stared him down while Sam entered the house properly and then joined Judith in the living room. Watching the two children from the corner of his eye, he waited until he could hear Sam talking to her, agreeing to read Pat the Bunny. Judith liked Sam a lot, and automatically gravitated to him whenever he came to visit Carol. With both children sufficiently occupied, he got straight to the point.

"You need to leave. Now."

Giving a long sigh, Pete lowered his head and looked at the ground. His shoulders moved suddenly, and it took Rick a moment to realise that he was laughing to himself. When he raised his head, he seemed exasperated by their conversation, by his own antics too.

"Let's be friends, man," he suggested, giving him a half smile. "We kind of have to be."

"No, we don't," Rick disagreed. Lowering his voice again, he took step closer so that Pete could hear him. "Doctor or not, you don't want to be one of my problems. Is that clear?"

"Are you threatening me?" Pete asked, raising his eyebrow.

"Yes. I'm glad you noticed."

Pete laughed now, incredulous. His lips parted, his next words on the tip of his tongue, but Rick interrupted him yet again, still maintaining control.

"Don't even look at my children the wrong way. Is that clear?"

Taken aback, Pete raised his eyebrows. He laughed again, as if he could shake off what Rick was telling him. When he looked back, his expression was arrogant. "Or what?"

"Accidents happen."

"You can't do anything," Pete tried to goad him, leaning down and sneering at him. "Not to me."

"You are replaceable," Rick reminded him, speaking slowly and enunciating each word. "So learn your place, and then stay there."

Finally, Pete appeared to get the message. He stared Rick down, but his sneer of arrogance faded incrementally, and a few moments later he was smiling again as if nothing had happened. He raised his hand and clapped Rick on the shoulder, using more force than necessary in a final attempt to assert himself.

"See you around, man." Squeezing Rick's shoulder once more, he released him and then turned away. He collected his beer and the second one he had brought from the dining room table, but despite his submission it appeared he wasn't going down without getting the last word. "Bye Judith," he said, looking at her and raising his hand. "I'll see you when you're sick, and your daddy needs a favour."

Though the remark was clearly meant to arouse a similar response from him, Rick choose instead to remain silent. He didn't care who had the last word, so long as Pete did what he had been told. Watching him leave, his sluggish footsteps reminding Rick of how much he'd had to drink, he went over and closed the front door. He resisted the urge to turn the deadbolt, knowing that no one around here locked their doors. Standing there and looking out through the glass panes, he wondered what was with assholes inviting themselves into his house just to screw with him. Who would it be next? Who else had he pissed off that hadn't yet been handled?

Rubbing the back of his neck, he knew he could really use a cigarette right now. His occasional indulgence was reserved only for the more stressful days, and there was no denying how relaxing it was to sneak into Daryl's attic bedroom and smoke one of his cigarettes out on the roof. Today, given that he had been awake since three o'clock in the morning and Pete was being a pain in the ass, Judith's nap time and his cigarette break couldn't come fast enough.

"How's everything at home, Sam?" Rick enquired, feeling a flicker of concern.

Having been reading aloud to Judith, Sam stopped and looked up in surprise. "Good," he nodded, giving a big smile.

Going along, Rick copied his nod. "Nothing's bothering you?" he asked next, moving into the kitchen. Downplaying the seriousness of his question, he occupied his hands by moving around a few dishes in the sink.

"No, I'm okay," he smiled.

Not raising his head, Rick flicked his eyes up and looked at Sam. He and Judith sat side by side on the floor, the large picture book spread out across both their laps. Though he thought he'd heard a flicker of hesitation in Sam's answer, he appeared to be perfectly content. Still, Rick took his time and considered his next question, wondering how to phrase it delicately. He couldn't just bluntly ask a ten year old how often his father got drunk and turned into an asshole…at least not if he wanted an honest answer. He'd have to come at it in a round about way, and though he started considering different ways to phrase the question, he wondered if he was over reacting. So Pete was having a couple of drinks in the early afternoon…he was an asshole with or without the beer.

Before he could think too long about it, his focus was diverted by the sound of the radio cracking to life. Looking around for the radio, for it wasn't in it's usual spot on the kitchen bench, he followed the sound and realised someone had moved it into the living room. He couldn't hear exactly what was being said, but upon recognising Nicholas' voice he was pleasantly surprised. The run crew had only been going a little over two hours, so either the supply run was a bust or it went exceptionally well. No one had been expecting them back for another hour or so at least.

"Say again," Rick requested, having not heard the first transmission.

"Someone get the gate!" came Nicholas' panicked voice. "We're nearly back, I need the gate opened."

His relief quickly turned into worry. "Roger that. South tower, get on that now," he instructed clearly. "Nicholas, what's wrong? Is someone hurt?" he asked, not liking the tone of his voice.

"Yes. It's Tara."

Well used to the way a quiet day at home could turn so quickly, Rick launched into action. Apologising to Sam, he picked up Judith and then left, ushering Sam to follow him. "What's the injury?" he asked Nicholas in dread while he headed up the street. Maggie and Sasha met him on the pavement, they too hearing the transmissions from their own house radio, and he immediately passed Judith over to Maggie.

"She got hit on the head, she's knocked out. Looks like a lot of blood."

"Is she breathing?" he enquired, forced to ignore Judith protesting his sudden departure. "What's her pulse like?"

"I - I don't know."

This remark nearly made Rick stop in his tracks, his heart fluttering in his chest. "Well find out," he said incredulously. There were four other people, surely one of them could tell what Tara's pulse was.

"We're nearly there, alright?" Nicholas responded, his panic audibly worsening. "Just get the gate opened."

"We're on it. Over and out," he concluded.

Though the last thing he wanted to do was see Pete, Rick swiftly crossed the front porch of his house and hammered his fist on the door. Looking down towards the gate, he was pleased to see Spencer and a few others rushing over to the gate, and when Sasha walked past and said she'd alert Denise and Rosita to come and help he nodded in agreement. Looking back at the red front door, he hammered his fists against the glass panes before frowning. Curious, he stepped back and looked at the front window, wondering why Pete and Jessie would close their blinds in the middle of a power outage. Looking back towards the open gate, movement in the distance indicated that the run crew only a few blocks away. Without time to feign politeness, Rick hammered his fist on the door and then opened it himself. Just as he did, the handle slipped out of his hand as Pete wrenched the door open. Looking out and finding Rick, he sneered before trying to slam it closed on him.

"The run crew are back," he said loudly, putting his hand on the door and forcing it to stay open. "You've got an incoming head trauma. Sober up."

"Shit," Pete swore under his breath, slamming the door shut in Rick's face.

With him alerted, Rick headed back out onto the street and stood in the intersection that overlooked the lake, not needing to linger and make sure Pete would come. Given the conversation they just had, if Pete was smart he'd be wanting to prove that he wasn't replaceable after all. Watching as the familiar white van approached, he mentally braced himself for what ever was coming. Nicholas had only mentioned that Tara had a head injury, but that didn't exclude anyone one else from injury.

As the white van came screeching through the gates, Pete breathlessly joined Rick on the pavement and together they headed for the infirmary. "Is it an open or closed head wound?"

"Don't know."

"Vitals?"

"Unknown, but she's unconscious."

"Blood loss?"

"Some."

Pete sighed in frustration, taking a long swig from a can of energy drink. "I suppose a GCS assessment is too much to ask for?"

"Yes, it is," he confirmed, his attention too preoccupied to care about Pete's attitude. As Nicholas turned the corner and drove past him, Rick's eyes quickly scanned the front seats, looking for the other occupant up front, but he saw no one.

"Where's Rosita?" Pete called out loudly, already rallying the team he wanted. "Someone find me Rosita."

As the van skidded to a stop outside the infirmary, Rick glanced back down at the gate and double checked that it was closed. Looking back to the van, he watched on as key members of the community rallied into position, Holly and Rosita bringing out a stretcher and spinal board while Denise handed Pete some gloves. The engine died and Nicholas stepped out of the front seat, his face alight with panic and dread as he looked around at everyone.

"Tell me exactly what happened," Pete demanded shortly, pulling on his gloves before snatching the spinal collar from Denise.

"There was an explosion," Nicholas moaned, his feet heavy with exhaustion as he staggered around to the back. "I think she got thrown back and hit her head."

"Did she immediately lose consciousness?" Pete asked, gesturing for Nicholas to open the rear doors.

"Yes, I think so."

"Did you stabilise her neck?

"W-we tried, but we had to move her."

As the rear doors swung open, Rick calmly stepped back and watched from afar, knowing to give Pete and Denise some space. He would occupy himself checking on the others, assessing their injuries and finding out what had happened. Yet as he watched Pete swiftly climb into the back of the van, Denise following with a spinal board, Rick felt a cold shiver go down his spine. That made no sense…how was there any room in the back when no one else had gotten out yet?

Realisation hit him without warning, rendering him immobile for a horrible moment before he managed to make his body move. His heart filling with dread he burst forward and looked into the back of the van, searching for the familiar faces he had yet to see, the people who absolutely had to be there. Tara lay limp and still, her head resting in a pool of blood while Pete and Denise made an initial assessment, but then no one else. Glenn, Carrie Noah and Aidan were no where to be seen. There was moment where an unexpected stupor came over him, for while he understood what this meant, he seemed incapable of actually comprehending it. Four people were missing, that much he understood. Glenn, Carrie…their names registered to him first, their faces appearing in his mind's eye.

Feeling dazed, Rick looked around at the crowd, certain that there was a mistake, that there was a perfectly reasonable explanation for their absence. Yet despite this, the haze of numbness began to lift incrementally, and his eyes fell on Nicholas as understanding dawned on him.

He didn't know what happened, but he knew who was responsible for it.


	28. Chapter 28

Their journey into Washington city was comfortable and without issue, although Heath's directions towards the warehouse left a little to be desired. Sitting in the back of the van with the others, Carrie waited patiently as Aidan and Nicholas drove around and around for ten minutes before finally finding the road they required, cursing the accuracy of the directions they had been given. But following that everything had gone smoothly. Making a point of knowing the area, they split into pairs and set off in different directions, ensuring they knew what was around and all the different sections. Determining that the front of the warehouse was largely populated with Walkers, they took this into account as they went inside, uncomfortably aware of the fact they really had only one entrance and exit.

Just like everything else had, their initial entrance into the warehouse went smoothly. Letting Aidan and Glenn go ahead, Carrie followed close behind them with her gun and flashlight raised, holding both of them the way Glenn had taught her too, the same way Rick had taught him. Moving slowly, they methodically cleared their immediate area, but they didn't need to go far before they found the Walkers they could hear. Finding them stuck in a caged area, the team of six took care to assess its security before they reassessed their plan, each of them rather pleased by the convenient turn of events.

"You're up, Carrie," Aidan prompted, shining his flashlight at her.

"I'm up?" she questioned wryly.

"You're the one who said Eugene couldn't come," he shrugged. "Come on Ivy League, let's find this shit and get outta here."

"Ivy League, coming right up," she muttered, standing by Noah's side and peering at the serial number printed on the micro inverter. "Eight - six - four - eight," she muttered to herself.

Knowing where to start, she returned to the manager's office they had passed, shining her flashlight on the wall and pin board immediately outside it. Finding exactly what she wanted, she yanked down the laminated piece of paper and scanned its long list of serial numbers, feeling Tara looking over her shoulder.

"Here," Tara stated, pointing out a number near the bottom. "Eight - six - four - eight…what's this number here? Four - six - three?"

"Eight - six - four - eight is the serial number for the inventory." Turning around and looking at the enormous warehouse of shelves and aisles, she scanned the large numbers on each end to ensure she was on the right track. "Four - six - three, means aisle four, section six, shelf three."

"Ahhhh, Ivy League has done it again," Tara teased, knowing she disliked Aidan calling her that. "I bow down."

"Shut up," she hissed, rounding up Nicholas and Noah to go with them. "Let's get this and go, it's Spaghetti Tuesday."

"I love Spaghetti Tuesday," Noah moaned, already leading the way towards the second aisle.

While Glenn and Aidan hung back to keep watch of the Walkers and the other aisles, Noah, Nicholas, Carrie and Tara headed down aisle four in search of their supplies. Enjoying the fact that for once they were scavenging in a building that was clean and free of blood and destruction, she focused on finding the correct section and shelf. The longer they wasted time, the greater the risk.

"Here," she said softly, reaching the correct section and seeing the final four digits of the micro inverter printed on a shelf tag. Shining her flashlight up, she assessed the box until she found the same serial number printed on the side, confirming she had found what they were looking for. "Tara? Help me get it down?"

While Nicholas and Noah watched each end of the aisle, Carrie and Tara pulled the box down and then used their knives to open the top. Rifling though the foam packaging, they gave a soft whoop of success as they found what the exact micro inverter they had been looking for.

"Should we just take the box?" Tara suggested.

Carrie shook her head, critiquing how large and awkward it would be to carry. "No, let's just unpack it, that's what we brought the bags for. Nicholas?"

Taking his empty back pack, she and Tara started carefully packing the micro inverters, trying to maximise the amount they could fit into the bag. They needed at least twelve to get the solar panels up and running again that day, and though they could feasibly come back for more if they needed to, it would be better to get as many as possible.

Closing the bag and securing the zip, she handed it over to Nicholas and then peered back up at the shelf to look for another box. "We've got more bags in the van, right?" she asked, hearing the sharp sound of someone shooting their gun with a silencer, the empty shells clattering to the ground.

"Yeah," he nodded, slipping the bag onto his shoulders and heading off down the aisle. "I'll take this out and get some more. We should take as many as possible."

"Check for any instructions," Tara told her, gesturing to the empty box as the sound of Glenn's voice began to echo around. "I'll get the next box down."

Beginning to rifle through the foam packaging, Carrie tipped it onto its side and dispensed with it all, searching for any kind of paper work or instructions Eugene might not already have. Hearing Glenn start shouting at Aidan, she mentally rolled her eyes and then glanced up at Noah who stood halfway down the aisle. Hearing the commotion, he turned on his heel and followed its sound.

"Aidan! Stop!"

The explosion came without warning, the sudden eruption of heat, sound and power rendering everything else obsolete. It hit with a force greater than anything Carrie had ever felt, her entire body absorbing the shock wave that lifted her clean off her feet. As her entire world slipped from her control she felt herself becoming airborne, the brief sensation of weightlessness giving momentary reprieve from the explosion. But the reprieve was only brief, and suddenly she felt herself coming to a violent stop against something hard and immovable, her body slumping down to the ground as debris rained down upon her. As she waited for it to end she desperately tried to breathe, but her body refused to cooperate, allowing only small gasps of dust filled air to enter her lungs.

As quickly as the explosion began it was over, the atmosphere becoming still again. Slowly recollecting herself, she lay face down as she waited for her head to stop spinning, for her brain to finally connect with her muscles and allow her to move. When her mind caught up with reality the first things she was aware of was pain in her face, the taste of blood in her mouth and the painful ringing in her ears that was slowly beginning to recede. Gasping for breath, she managed to open her eyes and see only darkness, but as the moments passed her vision cleared and the ringing began to fade. Through the darkness she could make out a single beam of light, one that appeared and then disappeared a few times, encouraging her to get up, to go to it. She tried to move, instinct telling her to get up, but there was a painful throb that wracked her whole body. It kept her immobile for what felt like the longest time, and then she tried again.

Struggling up onto her elbows Carrie slowly moved upright, distantly aware of debris cascading down her body. She coughed as a plume of dust filled the air around her, but she gratefully breathed the air in, feeing her head begin to clear up as her lungs expanded with much needed oxygen. She gently pressed her hand to her painful face, feeling warm moisture that indicated blood, but she gave it little thought. With the oxygen came relief, the painful throb in her torso receding as adrenaline began flowing. Panic for the others saw her clumsily getting to her feet, her strength failing her at first. As she rose to her feet, she fumbled around to feel her holsters, relieved to find that both her guns, her knife and her machete were still in place. Her flashlight was gone, and so she moved through the pitch black surroundings, stumbling over debris and obstacles with one thought in mind. Tara had been right beside her…where was she now?

"Tara?" she called out, trying to find a balance between staying quiet and making herself known. She could hear the snarls of snapping teeth of Walkers near by, and so she lowered her voice again. "Tara, where are you?"

There was the sound of a soft commotion to her right, but before she could draw her knife two beams of light was shone in her face. Despite the discomfort, she was relieved to know that it was one of her people.

"Carrie?" Glenn panted, his voice sounding strangely distant. His flashlight illuminated his face, or what she could see of it through the shelves anyway. "Are you-"

"Give me the flashlight," she said urgently, her voice feeling rough and harsh in her throat. Stumbling over to the shelves, she and Glenn reached through from opposite sides to make the exchange, catching a glimpse of Noah's face beside him. "I can't find Tara." She had been right next to her…they'd been close enough to touch. Moving carefully, for every sound seemed to grate at her ear drums, Carrie began searching.

"Walker, on your left," Glenn said urgently.

Looking up that way, she was surprised to see a dark figure approaching her, having managed to get close to her. Figuring her hearing must still be suffering, and trying to adjust accordingly, she withdrew her Glock with the silencer to take care of it. Her body barely cooperating as it were, and she didn't trust her strength to take it on hand to hand. She held her gun and flashlight just the way Glenn had taught her, just the way Rick had taught him, and she quickly took out the Walker. Just like before the otherwise unobtrusive sound of the suppressor stung at her ear drums and made her wince.

"She's here!" Noah told them, though Carrie only just managed to hear him. "Carrie, back this way."

Taking her finger off the trigger, she turned around and hastened back down the way she had come, a large obstruction ahead of her blocking her way. Looking past it she could see Noah's flashlight shining on something the other side, and so carefully assessing the stability of what looked like heavy wooden boxes, Carrie holstered her gun and carefully climbed up and over it. She found Tara on the other side, slumped over as a steady course of blood streamed down the side of her head.

As Glenn and Noah struggled through the fallen debris to get to their side, Carrie took what she considered to be a necessary risk. Leaving herself with bare arms, she tore off her jacket and folded it up. After carefully determining the source of the blood, she pressed the fabric there and applied firm, but gentle pressure. Speaking softly, she tried to rouse Tara, grasping her shoulder and squeezing just like Pete had been teaching them to do.

"We need to get her out of here, now," Glenn said, he and Noah arriving on the scene. "The cage is open, Walkers are getting out."

"It's going to take three of us," Carrie told him, glancing up to the end of the aisle and seeing Nicholas standing there, filled with panic. "She could have a spinal injury, we need to keep her head stable," she said next, mentally beginning to run through everything she had learnt over the last few weeks. Planning their next move, she quickly looked Glenn and Noah up and down to see they looked horribly dishevelled, their faces covered in cuts and smears of blood, Glenn's hair practically looking windswept.

"Nicholas, cover us!" Glenn shouted. While he took Tara's torso, he directed Noah to take her head and Carrie to take her legs. "You guys ready? On three…one, two three."

They moved in perfect unison, and though at first they struggled under Tara's dead weight, they quickly began shuffling back towards the end of the aisle, Nicholas sticking close by with his gun drawn. With their hands occupied they depended fully on Nicholas, and Carrie wasn't too polite to admit that scared her just as much as the explosion had. By some miracle they made their way through the warehouse, but as the Walkers began appearing ahead of them in all directions, they diverted their initial course. Heading not for the way they had entered the warehouse, they instead moved towards one of the offices close by, deciding to take refuge in there for now. As Nicholas swept his arm across the desk and cleared the contents off for them, Carrie, Glenn and Noah shuffled in and then very carefully laid Tara down.

"Where's Aidan?" Carrie asked, double checking that Tara's head was still straight before reapplying pressure to her wound.

"He's dead," Nicholas said lowly, hastily closing the door behind them.

There was a terrible moment of silence as Carrie took this in, looking to Glenn and Noah to seek their confirmation. When they nodded, her heart sank into the pit of her stomach, the situation having just got even more serious. Aidan was dead. Not hurt, not trapped or stranded…dead. She wanted to ask what happened, how he had died and what had caused the explosion, but there wasn't time for that. They had to prioritise Tara, and so instead she asked, "Where's the med kit?"

"In Aidan's pack…it got blown to hell."

"She's got serious head trauma, we need to get her out of here," she said, looking down at Tara. She was breathing, and Carrie could feel the throb of her pulse, but she was losing a lot of blood. "There's another med kit in the van, if we…"

Carrie trailed off, the sound of an agonised scream capturing everyone's attention. There was a flurry of panic as Glenn, Noah and Nicholas darted over to the office windows, looking through the blinds out into the warehouse.

"Oh, Jesus," Nicholas moaned.

"Is he alive?"

"I checked him, I thought…I-I," Nicholas stammered.

There was a short pause, Carrie looking up at them in confusion. The agonising moan came again, this time weaker, and it was then she understood what she couldn't see…Aidan was out there, still alive.

"It's going to take at least three of us," Glenn began, already prepared to act.

"Have we got that kind of time?" Noah asked, turning around and looking at Carrie.

Nicholas was quick to intervene. "No! If we pull Aidan off there, we could kill him."

"So you're saying we leave him?" Noah said in outrage.

"We have to!" Nicholas shouted, cringing at the very words he was saying. "We have to leave him, we can't risk it. We could _all_ get killed!"

"Glenn?" Noah appealed, looking to him for support, and knowing he would get it.

Looking back out the window, Glenn was already moving back towards the door, his decision already made before he looked to Carrie to gauge her support too. Unable to see Aidan's predicament, to assess how difficult the rescue would be, Carrie ought to have kept her mouth shut. But she knew what Glenn wanted to do, she knew who he was at heart, who they all were…there was really only one decision. They had to try.

"Go. Save him," she said abruptly. "Tara would do it, we know she would."

"Alright," Glenn took charge. "We'll knock them back. Nicholas, do you still have that flare?"

Nicholas nodded. "Yeah."

"You fire the flare over the shelves," Glenn instructed, the three of them heading for the door. "It'll draw some of them over, we're going to hit the rest of them hand to hand. Carrie, if we don't come back-"

"You will," she said automatically, the words a reflex to say.

"If we don't," he said imperatively. "Then go. The exit's only twenty yards down on your left."

Needing to give him the peace of mind that she'd be alright, she didn't argue. "Okay."

"Alright, we're gonna go on three. One, two, three."

Working seamlessly, the three of them sprung into action. After a hearty shove Glenn threw the door open with a loud grunt, Nicholas stepping out first as bright red light bloomed as fired the flare. In seconds, the three men were gone and the door swung shut, engulfing Carrie and Tara in near silence. She could hear only the slightest sound of scuffle from outside the office, a loud yell indicating that they were making their way through the Walkers.

She couldn't see out the office windows, not when she needed to hold her jacket against Tara's head, but she was desperate to know what was happening. Her whole body quaked with fear for her friends, for her new family who were so horribly endangered right now. Unable to do a thing about it, Carrie instead focused her attention on Tara. Moving her head as little as possible, she made some adjustments and started winding the arms of the jacket around Tara's head, tying them in a turban-like bandage that would hold for now. Taking out Glenn's flashlight, she hastily looked over Tara's body, assessing any other injuries that she might be treatable.

A howl of pain caught her attention, one that strained at the person's throat. With Tara's head wound no longer occupying her hands, Carrie absolutely had to know what was going on, and so she rushed over to the window the others had been looking through. It took the longest time for her to make out what she was seeing, barely able to tell the shapes and the shadows from one another, but as the scream died down she managed to locate the source of movement and focus on it. Glenn, Noah and Nicholas were crowded around something, and in horror Carrie managed to make out Aidan's face. There was an air of panic among the four men, Glenn grabbing Nicholas' arm as he tried to back away. Regrouping, they returned to Aidan while Noah kept watch, firing his gun as Walkers approached and began closing in on them.

Aidan started screaming again, but he trailed off more quickly this time. Trying to understand why they weren't coming back with him, Carrie looked at Aidan and slowly realised he was stuck…he impaled on something.

"Oh, shit," she muttered, beginning to feel a little faint as what she was seeing made sense. They were trying to pull him off…trying, and failing.

There was frightened shouting now, the snarls and growling of the Walkers escalating as Aidan began screaming again, and this time Carrie didn't need to look to know what was happening. The scream was one of excruciating agony, a mournful effort to feel alive in his last moments. Picturing the Walkers converging on Aidan, Carrie covered her ears and staggered back over to Tara, trying to stifle the horrified sobs that were bursting out of her chest. She didn't want to hear any more, she couldn't bear witness to yet another person being torn apart, and yet the only reprieve she got was the silence that indicated Aidan was dead. As his screams died down and then stopped, she was left with only the sound of the Walkers tearing into him, groaning and snarling in satisfaction.

With a shuddering breath, Carrie opened her eyes and looked at Tara, slowly lowering her hands from her ears and returning them to Tara's injury. Trying to get control of herself, she focused on breathing in and out, feeling the oxygen reaching her brain while she watched Tara's chest also rise and fall. While she waited for the others to return without Aidan she focused on that, on making sure Tara kept breathing, that her quick pulse didn't falter. A minute or so passed without interruption, and waiting anxiously Carrie looked up at the office door. They should be back by now. Glenn, Noah and Nicholas…they should have been back already.

Leaving Tara again, she moved back over to the windows and looked out. Against her will, she forced herself to look at Aidan, and despite what it meant, she was glad she couldn't see him, that his body had been completely surrounded by Walkers. But to her horror, that was the only sign of movement from inside the warehouse. The red light from the flare was dying, but the longer she looked out and waited, the more she was certain that there was no one out there. For a brief moment she wondered if the others had become caught up in the Walkers while they tried to help Aidan, if they were all dead, but she rationalised with herself. There would have been more screaming, much more.

She looked down at her watch, taking note of where the seconds hand was. Sixty seconds…she could give Glenn and the others sixty seconds. Glancing back at Tara, she waited apprehensively, remembering what Glenn had asked her to do. The exit was twenty yards to her left…but Tara. If she had a spinal injury, any attempt Carrie made to move her by herself would only worsen it. What if she hurt Tara even more? What if she had a broken neck, and Carrie's attempt to help her left her paralysed? As the second hand counted down to sixty, she knew that was going to be a risk she'd have to take. Just as this thought occurred to her, she reached the sixty second time limit, but briefly losing her nerve she extended it to ninety. Ninety seconds…she could give Glenn that much.

But soon enough, ninety seconds had passed, and Carrie knew she had to act now. There was no movement from the warehouse, and though she knew Glenn and Noah would never abandon her completely, she also knew she couldn't wait for them much longer. Tara couldn't wait…they needed the med kit. Clearing her throat and determining her first priority, Carrie shook off her fear and stepped into action, knowing what she needed to do.

Even if she could lift Tara to carry her over her shoulder, it wasn't an option given her potential injuries. As she quickly determined the best way to transport her friend, Carrie sent silent thanks to Rick, finally seeing the bigger picture in the same way he had three weeks ago. Though Rick had come on too strong and too forceful by the end of it, his impassioned speech and declaration that everyone was going to undertake the training he determined was paying off now. Pete had taught many of them a great deal of emergency first aid, including how she'd need to transport Tara without assistance.

She paused only long enough to check her weapons, retrieving her spare magazines from the jacket pocket and slipping them under the strap of her bra instead. Setting her Ruger out on the ground by the door, she took a deep breath before sliding her hand under the back of Tara's head. Her manoeuvre was clumsy, her fumble possibly doing more damage than she was trying to prevent, but she persevered regardless. Standing behind Tara and supporting her head against her own neck, Carrie slowly lifted her up and began dragging her off the desk. Her feet fell down to the ground with a heavy thump, her head lolling for a moment before Carrie clumsily stabilised it, but then they were ready.

Winding her arms underneath Tara's armpits and supporting her head the way Pete had taught her, she dragged her backwards towards the door. The motion elicited a gasp of pain from Carrie, her back and shoulders aching from the aftermath of the explosion. Pushing on regardless, she paused only to grab her Ruger and to slowly open the door, leaving it slightly ajar before taking hold of Tara once more. Bracing herself for anything she might encounter on the other side she backed up into the door as quietly as possible, trying not to draw attention to her activities. She nudged the door open and looked out, and when she found no Walkers on the other side she moved swiftly. Without ceremony she dragged Tara through the warehouse as fast as she could, trying to stay low to evade detection from the Walkers.

The majority of them were occupied with Aidan, but those who had remained entranced by the red flare were Carrie's biggest threat. It had almost completely died out by now, and the half dozen or so in that direction were slowly losing interest, heading back towards her. Briefly losing her footing, she had to stop and readjust Tara's position again, trying to keep her head still as they started moving again. The Walkers that came towards them from the front were of less concern to her, for despite the difficulty in moving Tara, they was halfway to the exit already. It was the Walkers that came upon her from the side and behind that slowed her down. It was a futile task to keep track of all directions, and her groans of exertion were almost impossible to stifle, but she had to, and quickly. The warehouse was silent now that Aidan was dead and the others forced to flee, and every sound Carrie made was attracting attention.

Slipping, Carrie's foot slid out from under her, sending she and Tara crashing down to the floor. Trying not to panic, she clenched her mouth shut before wriggling out from underneath Tara, needing to get at her guns immediately. Her flashlight was gone, but there was just enough light streaming from the open door for her to see the Walkers that were approaching. Scrambling to her feet, she resisted the instinct to head for the nearest wall and take out the Walkers with her back pressed against it and instead stayed with Tara, standing over her as she raised her gun and started firing. Though she'd trained well with the Glock, and the silencer too, her shots were messy with panic, but effective nonetheless. Three Walkers were taken out in a flurry of rapid fire, and after two more appeared from the shadows her magazine was empty.

"Fuck," she whispered to herself, her voice hoarse with fear.

There were two others coming now, their faces passing the beam of light that came through the door. While she knew that Walkers had no conscious thought, for one horrible moment it was like the closet one looked directly at her and saw how scared she was, how easy she'd be to take down. Feeling the situation getting out of control, Carrie felt her first moment of overwhelming fear since the explosion happened. Fumbling in the dark to find the magazine release, she wished she had practiced this particular manoeuvre a little more, even though it was as easy as finding a button. Despite her preference for it, she couldn't draw her Ruger until the absolute last minute, knowing that the loud shots would draw more than she could handle.

Panicking as the two Walkers drew nearer, and with Tara to protect, she reverted back to her older, more preferred methods. Holstering her Glock, she knew her knife instead and went straight for the first Walker, knocking it's arms aside and plunging her knife through the eye. Her hands were slippery with Tara's blood and so the knife slipped from her grasp, and without time to retrieve it she drew her machete to take on the second Walker. This was an easier kill, allowing her to holster the machete and go straight back to Tara. She wound her arms beneath Tara's arm pits and started moving, persevering even when she lost her footing on the slippery floor yet again.

Miraculously, they reached the outer door through which they had entered, using her foot to kick it open all the way. As if to mock her relief, the heavy metal door swung back, the handle striking her hard in the side. The struggle to get Tara to safety felt relentless and never ending. This notion was reaffirmed the moment she managed to get her all the way down the steps and onto the road outside. Having been forced to leave the door open, Walkers began following her out, and yet again Carrie had to put Tara down. This time she didn't bother with her empty Glock and simply withdrew her Ruger, the noise be damned. She was exhausted, her body weary and struggling to move with the speed and coordination it needed. When she took out three Walkers in quick succession she staggered back up the steps and began dragging the corpses out of the way. Finally she slammed the door shut again, buying herself some time to get Tara safely in the back of the van.

Two steps forward, one step back.

Using all the sheer grit and determination she had left, Carrie picked Tara up once again and dragged her over to the van, the bright daylight showing her how helpless and vulnerable she was. It was this that gave Carrie the next boost of energy and adrenaline, determined that she was going to save Tara's life. She didn't know what had happened to the others, she didn't know if they were dead or alive, but she knew that Tara was depending on her, that she held her life in her hands. The rear doors of the van had been left open, and though her back strained and protested as she climbed in and dragged Tara with her, and it was with an alright gasp of relief that she lowered Tara down to the floor.

There wasn't time to waste, and so Carrie gave herself only one moment to recover before pushing onward. Her hands shook as she carefully readjusted the jacket pressed against Tara's head, wondering what she should do next. She knew that she was meant to turn Tara onto her side, that the recovery position they had practiced was the next step, but she didn't think she'd be able to do it on her own, not if she wanted to protect Tara against any spinal injuries Trying to think, she felt for Tara's pulse and then reassured herself that she was still breathing. But there was no denying that Carrie was completely alone in this situation, and she didn't know what to do.

What had Pete taught them? Could she move Tara onto her side by herself?

Plagued by indecision, Carrie looked out the rear doors at the empty road, waiting for the others to miraculously appear and help her. When they didn't she forced herself to once again take control of the situation and act. She knew Glenn well…if he hadn't come back to her and Tara by now, then he was the one in trouble, he was the one who needed help. Thinking for a moment, she pictured the floor plan of the warehouse before quickly deciding that Glenn and the others must have gone out the front into the reception. Her heart sank as she reached this conclusion, having learned from their perimeter check that the front area was heavily populated with Walkers, that they must have run straight into them. With that in mind, she leapt into action, acting on pure adrenaline and instinct. Using their bags to stabilise Tara's head, she slammed the rear doors closed and then climbed into the front seat, thanking God for their practice of keeping the keys under the sun visor rather than on their person. Starting the engine, she took the time to check both side mirrors just in case the others appeared behind her, and then took off.

She didn't know where Glenn and the others were, she didn't know what was going on, but she knew where to start. If the layout of the warehouse indicated they had gone towards the front of the building, then so would she. That was where she needed to start, that was where she would find them, and so she drove with as much speed as she dared, her eyes peeled as she looked for signs of human movement, of anyone from her group who might have made it outside. Feeling the van rocking as she took a corner too quickly, she corrected the squealing tyres and then raced down the final stretch, driving past the bright white semi trailers towards the front. Emerging into the main parking lot she braced herself to be suddenly surrounded by the crowd of Walkers, only to find that it was almost deserted.

Taken aback, it took her a moment to orient herself before she figured out what had changed, where the Walkers had gone. The crowd that had previously been spread out across the parking lot had moved, having converged on the front of the building in a large group. Feeling sick with fear, Carrie selfishly prayed that whatever was drawing their attention was Nicholas, that it was he who was dying, not Glenn or Noah. Quickly coming up with a plan, she lowered her window and drove the van over towards the front doors, squinting as she tried to make out exactly what she was seeing, what was going on over there. As she drew nearer, she turned around in her seat and glanced at Tara again, wincing apologetically at what she did next.

"Sorry," she whispered apologetically, reaching for the volume dial on the stereo.

Aidan's awful music began blasting from the speakers, and Carrie laid her hand on the van's horn as she moved them closer to the front of the warehouse. Taking a good look at her surroundings in all directions, she made absolutely sure she knew where all the Walkers were as she approached the crowd, watching as one by one they started to hear the music and horn.

"Hey!" she called out loudly, leaning out the window and banging her fist against the outside of the door. "Hey, over here!"

Bringing the van to a stop a few yards away, she lowered the clutch and then pressed on the gas, revving the engine to create more noise. The Walkers slowly began turning around, catching on to the new prey that was now in their sights. Still waving her arm so they would see her movement, she hastily brought it back inside and then raised the window to protect herself. As the Walkers began coming over to her, stumbling over the curb in their haste, Carrie desperately looked towards what they had been crowding around, and for a long moment she didn't understand what she was seeing. There was so much movement in her field of vision it was hard to distinguish what was what, but as the sunlight glinted off a few panes of glass, she managed to make out the top of a revolving door. By the time the Walkers begun reaching the van, she let out a loud cry of relief upon seeing the frightened faces of Glenn, Noah and then Nicholas.

Understanding how they had become stuck, and taking note of the Walkers that crowded them from the inside of the building too, Carrie got straight back into action as elation began to fill her. There was still danger to be managed, but this situation she was capable of handling, she knew exactly what to do. Putting the engine back into gear she gently eased her way past the Walkers that she had allowed to crowd the van, getting past them without issue and leading them away. It would be slow progress, but she had to get the Walkers well clear of the revolving door before she could go back and get her group out. Mentally planning, she knew that if she led the Walkers away but they saw her doubling back, they'd only follow her there again. Just like the night on the long supply run when she and Rick led the herd away, she had to make sure they kept going in one particular direction, meaning she'd have to drive in a loop right around the building to buy herself enough time. Once she got them out of the parking lot and they were following her around the building, she could speed off and get back to Glenn, Noah and Nicholas.

She questioned why they hadn't shot out the glass and climbed through, and figured they must have run out of rounds. But now with her there, all they had to do was wait for her to return. She knew Glenn and Noah, confident with how their minds worked and planned in a situation like this. If they couldn't safely escape on their own they would wait, they would have the confidence and trust to know that she was coming back for them.

Watching in her side mirrors, she observed the Walkers following her in a long procession, and then came to a stop near the corner of the building. Gratefully turning off the music, for she didn't need it now she had their attention, she lingered there and let them gather closer. The moment she had them all together she started off again and turned round the side of the building, moving halfway down before pulling to a stop and waiting. Trusting that Glenn and Noah would wait for her to get back, she put the hand brake on and climbed into the back to attend to her other charge. With shaking hands she gently checked Tara's wound, the bleeding from the head trauma beginning to slow down. Her breathing and pulse seemed steady, and her complexion was pale, but not grey, another good sign. Nevertheless, when she tried to rouse her, Tara still did not respond.

Leaving her for now, Carrie climbed back into the front and then looked in the side mirrors again, taking note that the entire group of Walkers had come around the side of the building in pursuit of her. Having fixed the problem of them following her back to the revolving door, Carrie started off again, driving around the building like a madman in her haste to get back to the group. Driving with one hand, she reached up into her bra and took out the spare magazines she had stashed there, planning to shoot out one of the large windows on the side of the atrium. If she freed the other Walkers from the interior and enticed them away, Glenn, Noah and Nicholas would be able to get out. Though the area should be clear of Walkers, she'd use the Glock with the silencer, for the last thing they needed was to bring more Walkers back around to the front.

Despite her planning, the moment she came around the last corner and entered the carpark, Carrie's heart sank into the pit of her stomach. The area was not clear as it should be, and though five Walkers were nothing she couldn't handle, she knew something was very, very wrong. The revolving door was moving again, and Walkers were streaming out of it one and two at a time, emerging into the bright sunlight and heading off. They were staggering off in the opposite direction, following the others who were still in relentless pursuit of the van, but that was the least of Carrie's problems.

"No, no, no," she muttered to herself, beginning to panic.

Going against everything she knew to do, she pulled on the handbrake and flew out of the van, pausing long enough to slam the door so shut that Tara could have some protection. Reloading her Glock, she raced over to the revolving door, an awful groan escaping her lips as she saw what was awaiting her. Dark blood was smeared all over the lower panes of glass, flesh and viscera covering the tiled floor, the Walkers tracking it outside leaving bloodied footprints in their wake. Carrie stood there in disbelief, trying to comprehend what she was seeing. The glass doors were in tact, the Walkers hadn't broken through…Glenn, Noah and Nicholas should be right there! Feeling her heart beginning to beat out of her chest, she took a breath and got herself together, knowing she needed to act. Somehow she began to move, her feet bringing her closer to a scene she didn't want to see.

"Glenn!" she called out loudly, desperate to see him, to find them all alive and well. "Noah! Where are you?"

Shooting the closest Walkers, she reached the door and tried to stop it, slipping over on the bloodied floor and landing in the mess. Hastily forcing the revolving door to stop, lest it force her inside the building, she clung to the wall as she pulled herself up from the floor, looking over her shoulder to make sure she was still safe. She'd already caught a glimpse of what was happening just a few feet away from her, the activity on the opposite side of the revolving door, but she forced herself to look again. Trembling, she gave a low cry when she saw that against all hope, the Walkers were in a feeding frenzy. Using all her strength she kept holding the door still, keeping the Walkers inside so that she could look, so she could force herself to see who it was. She thought of Maggie who waited back in Alexandria, fully expecting her husband to come home, because he always did. They always came back to each other against all odds. Trying to see, for she had to know, she selfishly prayed again that it was Nicholas who was dead, not the others.

"Carrie! Carrie, we have to go!"

A mournful cry escaped her throat at the sound of someone calling her name, devastated by who it belonged to. Her heart sank as she turned around and saw Nicholas frantically running across the parking lot, his eyes alight with panic as he shouted at her and pointed to the van idling thirty yards away. The immediate grief hit her hard, for if something had gone wrong and Nicholas had survived, then Glenn and Noah had to be dead. They'd been trapped in the same section together, if one of them had gone down, the other must have too.

Wrenching herself away from the revolving door, she dodged one of the Walkers that had come back for her and ran over to Nicholas. "What happened?" she demanded, trying to hold back the flood of angry tears that wanted to erupt from her. "Nicholas, what happened?"

His panic fading, his expression turned blank for a moment. "We're leaving, now."

"No, wait. We n-"

"They're dead!" he shouted at her, turning away and heading for the driver's seat.

"Both of them?" she asked, grabbing Nicholas' sleeve and making him look back at her. "Both of them?"

He looked her in the eye when he spoke next. "Yes…they're both dead."

Not breaking eye contact, Carrie stood there and panted for breath, trying to gauge whether or not she believed him. Though he spoke with conviction and certainty, Carrie did not trust him…she knew what he was like, she knew self-preservation was his priority above all else. If he were lying about what happened to the others, this would not be the first time. On the Georgia supply run when the two of them were scavenging together, he'd neglectfully let out a dozen Walkers and then left her for dead, and he'd lied about the circumstances too. While she'd forgiven him for the sake of wanting to properly integrate into Alexandria, this time she knew better. She thought of Rick, of being the one to tell him that Glenn was dead, of having to tell Maggie…

"We need to be sure," she said lowly. Glancing over her shoulder, she saw more of the Walkers getting out of the revolving door and approaching them. "Nicholas, we-"

"You come with me, or you-"

"We need to be sure!" she screamed at him, trying to make him understand. "I cannot tell Rick and Maggie that Glenn is dead if I'm not sure! I have to see it!"

Nicholas barely reacted, though his eyes did dart over her shoulder to look at the Walkers approaching. As though he was steeling himself for a fight, he took a deep breath and straightened his shoulders. "Either you come back with me, or you stay here and die with your friends," he said, opening the drivers door and beginning to get in. "Those are your choices."

She raised her eyebrows at him, flabbergasted. He was giving her an ultimatum? "You're being ridiculous," she muttered, trying to reach past him for the keys in the ignition.

"Those are your choices!" he shouted at her, seizing her by the arms and pushing her back. Taking advantage of her surprise he easily shoved her against the side of the van, his grip on her arms painfully tight as he shook her. "Decide, now!"

Rendered speechless, Carrie gaped at him in shock, unable to believe what he was doing. She knew what he was like, that his own self-preservation was his priority, but she had never expected to be set upon by him. Even though she knew what she wanted to do, that she wanted to take a deep breath and calmly tell him she just needed two minutes to be absolutely sure, she couldn't move. Taking her lack of response as her final answer, Nicholas' face twisted into a growl of frustration as he tried to shove her aside. At this action Carrie's fight or flight response kicked in, and she roughly pushed past him and lunged for the driver's seat. All she needed to do was get the keys and buy herself enough time to properly look for Glenn and Noah, to be absolutely sure, but as she wrapped her hand around the keys Nicholas was on her.

He seized her from behind and wrenched her back, and though she'd certainly fought aggressors larger and stronger than he, her flimsy attempt to snatch the keys worked against her. As she struggled against Nicholas she clumsily lost her footing, allowing him to pull her back and push her aside like it was nothing. She tried to break her fall as she hit the ground hard, her aching body complemented by a flash of pain in her arm, and she lay prone on the ground before struggling back up. She could hear the snarls of Walkers closing in on them, but it was to Nicholas that she turned her attention. He stood above her, horrified with what he had done, but too frightened to change his course of action.

"Y-you come with me now, or you die!" he repeated, his voice wavering fearfully. He looked up at the approaching Walkers, and he began backing himself into the driver's seat. "Carrie, you come wi - Carrie!"

She didn't want to hear anymore. In a split second she burst back to her feet and started running, nimbly slipping past the closet Walkers without bothering to take them out. Moments later she hard the van door slamming shit, the tyres squealing as Nicholas fled the scene, but she barely thought about it. Instead she focused her energy on getting herself away from the Walkers, on finding a place where she could safely recollect herself. She still needed to look for Glenn and Noah, she needed to be absolutely sure that they were dead before she even thought about how she'd get home to Alexandria. Breathless and in pain, she groaned as adrenaline kept her going, forcing her to keep moving, to keep fighting.

Making it to the other side of the parking lot she slowed to a stop and sank to her knees, holding in the emotions that were about to take hold when she looked back and saw that the van was really gone. Nicholas hadn't been bluffing, he really had left her behind. As this realisation hit her she fully expected to just lay down there and give up, to succumb to what he had done to her for a second time, but an inner strength she sometimes forgot about kept her going. Despite everything she found herself staggering back to her feet, a gut feeling telling her that this wasn't over. She turned back to the warehouse and looked at the figures ambling towards her, the distant shapes indistinguishable from one another…except for one. It took her a moment to realise it, but there was one figure that stood out from the others, one that was unlike the others.

"Carrie!" Glenn was yelling, jogging over to her. "Carrie, are you okay?"

At first it seemed too good to be true, that after what Nicholas had told her she was just seeing a figment of her imagination, of her deepest wishes. She looked at Glenn as though he were a mirage, something that would only disappear the moment she came close enough to touch. But there was no denying the sound of his voice as he approached, nor the agonised expression on his face. Realising that he was enquiring about her state, that he was concerned about her of all things, she let out a low laugh, unable to believe it. She looked at him properly for the first time since the explosion, worried by the physical state he was in, a state that was mutual. She turned to face him properly, her feet automatically bringing her closer.

"What happened?" Glenn asked. As he reached her he slowed down and looked back into the parking lot. "Where did you leave the van?'

With a shuddering breath, Carrie forced herself to tell him. "Nicholas left," she managed to say, her voice weak. "He left us."

"What?" he gasped, looking at her in horror. "He left?'

"I tried to make him wait," she explained, needing to tell Glenn, to explain that she had tried, that she hadn't given up. "But he wouldn't, he wouldn't check."

"Check what?"

"That you were dead!" she exclaimed, her voice approaching hysteria. "He told me, and I didn't believe him. I just wanted to check, but he wouldn't listen. He - he just pushed me out of the way and then left. I'm sorry, Glenn, I should have stop-"

Glenn seized her by the upper arms, forcing her to look at him, to focus. "Tara?" he began bluntly. "Is she still in the office?"

Carrie shook her head, calming down a little now that she could give an answer of use. "No, I got her to the van. He…he'll get her home." Clinging to that hope, she took a deep breath and looked away, steeling herself before she asked the next question. "Noah?"

There was silence, forcing her to look back up at Glenn. The look on his face said it all, his features pinching as he lowered his hands. "No."

She didn't need to hear any more than that. Unlike when Nicholas told her, she believed Glenn without question…she didn't even need to ask that he was sure. As it always did the immediate grief manifested itself as a physical pain, a tightening in her chest that made her struggle to breathe - but there wasn't time for that, not when they were the centre of attention for dozens of approaching Walkers.

"Come on," Glenn said shortly. Seeing that she cradled her right hand against her stomach, he reached out and took her left in his, squeezing it. "Come on, let's go."

She nodded, following his lead and beginning to look around. "We need a car."

"No," Glenn shook his head, letting go of her hand now that she was following. "We need to find somewhere safe, but visible. We need to wait."

"For what?"

He picked up their pace as he led her back towards the warehouse. "You think Nicholas is just going to get home and that Rick's going to believe his story? That Maggie would?"

Carrie gave a low laugh of relief, realising how short sighted she had been not to see this straight away. "Not a chance in hell. He'll come for us." She'd learnt this the last time Nicholas had abandoned her, that in this situation she needed to trust that her group would have her back.

"Yes, he will. We just have to find somewhere safe, somewhere they'll be able to see us."

Taking note that Glenn had lost his radio and that hers was in the van, she agreed with his plan to find somewhere visible. Walkers were coming at them from a few directions now, those that were streaming out of the revolving door coming from the right, and the group Carrie had initially led away had finally caught up to them on the left. They would be a problem while ever they were visible, but perhaps at the same time they would help draw Rick to their location in the same way the crowd of Walkers had drawn her to the revolving door.

"What happened to your arm?" Glenn asked as they ran, grabbing her left hand again so they stayed close. Trying to beat the crowd of Walkers that were approaching, they headed for the semi trailers that were parked down the side of the warehouse.

"Nicholas," she panted breathlessly.

"He did that?" Glenn looked at her in disbelief, continuing when she didn't answer. "Do you think you can climb up a bit?"

"Yes," she nodded, watching as he tried the doors on the cabin only to find them locked. "Glenn, come on," she hurried him, the Walkers getting too close. There cabin of the truck was preferable, but there wasn't time for them to search for an unlocked door. "We can get on top."

"You first," he said, pointing to the ladder on the side of the cabin.

When he took out his gun and started firing on the closest Walkers Carrie simply did as she was told and began climbing, ignoring the pain in her right arm. Though her instinct was to make him go first, now was not the time to be debating the roles of gender and impending parenthood in emergency situations.

"Come on," she shouted, reaching the top and clambering onto the roof of the truck's cabin. "Glenn!"

Holstering his gun he followed without further delay, letting Carrie cover him as he got started. In seconds he was safe, climbing over the edge and breathlessly collapsing down beside her. Planning ahead and knowing they needed to conserve their ammunition, Carrie holstered her Glock and then looked down at the Walkers, watching them surround the truck and trap them up there. Exhausted, she followed Glenn's lead and slumped down beside him, resting her right arm cross her stomach while her left hand found his. It was perfectly natural for them to take one another's hands, to mutter a few words that would hopefully comfort the other. As they settled in for the long wait Carrie looked out at the surrounding areas. She could see the top of the Capitol Building and the peak of the Washington Monument too, but the landmarks were of little interest to her. A cool breeze swept over them, carrying with it the stench of the rotting corpses that surrounded them.

"What happened to Noah?" she asked quietly, needing to know. Looking at Glenn fearfully, she could see the agony on his face, and she knew he was replaying whatever happened over and over again in his head. "Why didn't you wait for me?" she asked when he didn't respond, her voice getting tighter with emotion. "I was coming back."

"I know," Glenn nodded. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. When he opened them they were brimming with tears, and he refused to look at her. "We tried to break the glass, but when we couldn't we were going to wait…but Nicholas panicked." Pausing, he wiped at his eyes and took another deep breath before continuing. "He forced his way out, and the Walkers just reached in and…I tried to hold him, but they just…"

He trailed off, not needing to elaborate any more, for which Carrie was grateful. She remembered the blood and viscera that filled the vestibule, blood and viscera she had stepped in, that was probably still on the bottom off her boots…that belonged to Noah. This time she didn't try to stop the outburst of emotion, and she sat up as tears began spilling from her eyes. Bringing her knees up to her chest she wrapped her arms around them, her right wrist beginning to ache more noticeably, and it was that she paid attention to. She looked at it critically, moving her fingers and paying attention to what caused the most discomfort. With her mind focused on the growing pain it was easier to compartmentalise the emotions she was feeling, to keep her shit together for Glenn who was trying to do the same for her. Bringing both of them some comfort he sat up and moved beside her, entwining their arms and holding her left hand again.

"They'll be an hour," he said quietly. "Maybe two, depending on how the weather holds out."

Nodding in agreement, she raised her eyes and looked out across the skies. That morning the supply run had felt particularly urgent to complete given the impending bad weather. It wasn't ideal for them to be without power at all, but the weather only threatened to extend the time they went without. Now however, the supply run having been executed perhaps too hastily, it looked as though the skies were clearing a little, the heavy grey clouds beginning to thin. She had no doubt that their faith in Rick and their group would come through for them, that the moment they smelled the bullshit spewing from Nicholas' mouth they'd be gearing up to come and get them. The entire concept of being able to depend on people in your group was still something that felt a little new to her, having not really experienced that in any of her groups with the exception of a few who had long ago died. Right now, the entire situation was completely beyond her control, she was incapable of doing anything to help herself and Glenn except wait.

Despite her confidence in Rick, it had been a long time since she felt this scared.

* * *

A/N Sorry about the delay in posting on my usual day and time - especially during the exciting chapters! Thanks for the encouraging reviews, I'm glad you're enjoying.


	29. Chapter 29

_As the van skidded to a stop outside the infirmary, Rick glanced back down at the gate and double checked that it was closed. Looking back to the van, he watched on as key members of the community rallied into position, Holly and Rosita bringing out a stretcher and spinal board while Denise handed Pete some gloves. The engine died and Nicholas stepped out of the front seat, his face alight with panic and dread as he looked around at everyone._

 _"Tell me exactly what happened," Pete demanded shortly, pulling on his gloves before snatching the spinal collar from Denise._

 _"There was an explosion," Nicholas moaned, his feet heavy with exhaustion as he staggered around to the back. "I think she got thrown back and hit her head."_

 _"Did she immediately lose consciousness?" Pete asked, gesturing for Nicholas to open the rear doors._

 _"Yes, I think so."_

 _"Did you stabilise her neck?_

 _"W-we tried, but we had to move her."_

 _As the rear doors swung open, Rick calmly stepped back and watched from afar, knowing to give Pete and Denise some space. He would occupy himself checking on the others, assessing their injuries and finding out what had happened. Yet as he watched Pete swiftly climb into the back of the van, Denise following with a spinal board, Rick felt a cold shiver go down his spine. That made no sense…how was there any room in the back when no one else had gotten out yet?_

 _Realisation hit him without warning, rendering him immobile for a horrible moment before he managed to make his body move. His heart filling with dread he burst forward and looked into the back of the van, searching for the familiar faces he had yet to see, the people who absolutely had to be there. Tara lay limp and still, her head resting in a pool of blood while Pete and Denise made an initial assessment, but then no one else. Glenn, Carrie Noah and Aidan were no where to be seen. There was moment where an unexpected stupor came over him, for while he understood what this meant, he seemed incapable of actually comprehending it. Four people were missing, that much he understood. Glenn, Carrie…their names registered to him first, their faces appearing in his mind's eye._

 _Feeling dazed, Rick looked around at the crowd, certain that there was a mistake, that there was a perfectly reasonable explanation for their absence. Yet despite this, the haze of numbness began to lift incrementally, and his eyes fell on Nicholas as understanding dawned on him._

 _He didn't know what happened, but he knew who was responsible for it._

"Nicholas," Rick began loudly, advancing on him. "Where are the others?"

Turning around from watching Pete and Denise start work on Tara, Nicholas' apprehension was evident. His eyes were wild, and they darted around as he read the situation, seeing who was there that might back him up. "Rick…something happened, and I…we-"

"Answer the question!" he demanded loudly. "Where's the rest of your people?"

Uneasy murmurs began to spread, those surrounding Rick closest beginning to move back a little, fully anticipating a violent outburst. As someone called out to get Deanna, Rick clenched his fists in anger. "Nicholas!"

"They're dead," he finally told him. Warily backing away, for he knew Rick well, Nicholas hastened to explain, beginning to ramble. "There was an explosion, and Aidan died. We tried to help him, we did, but we had to go. Then we got stuck," he continued, explaining as fast as he could. "Glenn, Noah and me, we were stuck. They both went down, and I had to go, I had to. T-tara was hurt, I needed to get her back here."

Rick was rendered silent, the murmurs around them breaking into full blown horror. As word spread about the explosion and Aidan's death, a flurry of grief began to grow, people gasping and looking to one another in horror. Rick on the other hand gave no reaction other than to shift his weight onto his left foot. As Maggie came up beside him with Judith on her hip, her face alight with fear and her eyes brimming already, he put his hand on her shoulder. While others might have seen that as a comforting gesture in a time of grief, Maggie did not. Clutching Judith, she looked between Rick and Nicholas, still hovering on the edge as she waited, for she knew Rick had something to say.

"I suppose you saw it happen" he asked plainly, looking at Nicholas.

Nodding solemnly, Nicholas lowered his head. "Yes."

"You saw them die?"

"Yes."

Rick paused, stepping back only to make room for the others to start bringing the stretcher out of the van. Taking his eyes off Nicholas for a moment he looked at Tara as she was carried past, immediately recognising that the wad of material Pete was still holding against her head. It was Carrie's bright purple running jacket, the one she had been wearing when they left two hours ago. The scene played out in his head, and as he pictured Carrie applying first aid to Tara, he knew with absolute certainty that the conclusion he had already reached was true. As Deanna and Reg came running, Rick took his hand off Maggie's shoulder and looked back at Nicholas.

"You tried to help them?" he questioned.

"Y-yes, of course."

Deanna arrived in a whirl of panic, her hair wild and her hand clutching Reg's as she looked around, listening to what everyone was saying about her son. She looked to Rick and then to Nicholas, her lips parting as if to ask for an explanation, but she fell silent instead.

"You saw it happen, you heard them screaming…and you tried to help them."

Nicholas nodded, now avoiding Rick's eye. If there wasn't so much at stake he might have almost smiled…Nicholas knew he had been found out.

"Nicholas," Deanna intervened urgently, stepping between he and Rick. "What happened? Where is everyone?"

"Yes, Nicholas," Rick added, titling his head and looking at him. "Tell her what happened."

Rick's icy tone slowly rendered everyone silent, the sympathetic gasps dying away as everyone looked at the centre of attention, Nicholas. Watching him intensely, he observed the way he trembled and shrunk back again, stepping back again before he finally looked up. Panicking, he looked around at everyone who had gathered, seeking someone to step in and vouch for him, to help him. "There wa-"

"Don't lie!" Rick shouted suddenly, startling everyone. "Tell me the truth this time."

Nicholas gaped at him. "I…I-"

"Who have you left behind alive?"

"Wh…what?"

"This is not the first time you've left people behind to die. Carrie!" Rick shouted when he didn't seem to understand. "You set a room full of Walkers on her, left her to die, and then denied responsibility. Just like now!"

"That was different," he pleaded with him. "I tried to - I…" he trailed off, putting his head in his hands with a long groan. When he raised it next, he pushed his hands through his hair and looked at Rick down his pointed nose. "I tried to make her come back, I tried."

"Who?"

"Carrie! I tried to make her come with me, but she wouldn't! What was I supposed to do, f-force her into the van? She wouldn't come, and I had to get Tara back!"

"You left her behind?" Maggie cried in outrage. "What about Glenn and Noah? Aidan?"

"They're dead," Nicholas repeated, softening his tone as he looked at Maggie and then Deanna. "I'm sorry, everything just happened so fast, and-"

"Did you see it?" Rick demanded again, a great sense of urgency over taking him. Stepping forward, he seized Nicholas by the collar of his shirt and forced him to look at him. "Did you see Glenn die?"

Nicholas was trembling now, beads of perspiration dripping down from his hairline. Though they were surrounded by people no one stepped forward to intervene, either too intimidated by Rick or too horrified by what was being said. Frightened, Nicholas tried to step back, his hands going to his captor's wrist to push them away.

"Did you see Glenn die?" Rick repeated, twisting his hand in the fabric to tighten it. He barely restrained himself from tearing into Nicholas with his bare hands, from tearing his God damned faced off in a fit of justified rage. He needed to know right now whether or not Glenn as alive. Hidden behind his rage was heart sinking fear, the type that sent his body cold…Glenn could not be dead. Not him.

"I didn't see," Nicholas finally confessed, his voice barely a whisper.

"Noah?"

"I…I didn't see."

"Aidan?"

"He's dead," he nodded this time. "I saw it."

Rick believed him. "Carrie?"

"Sh-she's alive," he stammered, his face contorting with regret. "I had to leave her, she wouldn't come with me."

"What did you do to her?" Rick asked next. Seizing a firmer grip of his shirt, he moved Nicholas backwards, making him stumble when his feet hit the curb behind him.

"Nothing!" he denied.

"You did something to her, I know you did. What?"

"No, I-"

"Tell me what you did to her."

Clenching his eyes closed, Nicholas cringed. "I pushed her." His confession came in a rushed whisper, his head turned away as if expecting a blow at any minute.

"You pushed her?"

"She was fighting me."

"Fighting you?"

"She wanted to stay, and I said we had to go. I had no choice."

"So you pushed her aside, and then left her to die. Again?"

"No, I…" he trailed off, taking a deep breath. When he spoke again, it was louder, with conviction. "I had no choice. She wouldn't listen to me, and I needed to get Tara back. She's the one who ran from me!" he suddenly shouted. "I told her to come with me, but _she_ ran!"

Standing up straight, Rick nodded and looked around, taking in a few of the looks he was getting, seeing a mixture of horror and grief. Uncaring, he pressed his foot on top of Nicholas', pressing it down hard and then leaning forward again. Trying to compensate, he scrambled to find his balance, his jaw quivering and his eyes alight with fear.

"Give me one good reason that I shouldn't strangle you with my bare hands, right here" he requested, no longer bothering to keep his voice low. He didn't care who heard him.

"Ummm," he said urgently, panicking again. "I…I'll take you back there."

"I don't need you for that."

"D-Deanna will throw you out," he said next, grasping at straws.

"Not if you got her son killed."

"I didn't!" he protested urgently. "No, it was an accident, he-"

"That's enough!" Deanna intervened loudly, stepping forward.

For a small woman, her voice packed one hell of a punch, and both Rick and Nicholas fell silent. Not breaking eye contact, Rick stared him down, barely restraining himself from what he wanted to do. It took everything he had left not to do it, not to wrap his hands around his throat and squeeze, to pound his fists against his face until he never got up again. Questioning why he restrained himself, Rick clenched his fist and began raising it.

"Rick," Deanna began abruptly, not to reprimand him, but to get his attention. When he turned to her she looked at him imperatively. "Go and get our people," she ordered, her voice a harsh snap. "Find out who's dead, and who's not."

Looking back at Nicholas, Rick's lips turned into a twisted smile, not at all opposed to Deanna's order. "My pleasure," he answered. Letting go of Nicholas' shirt, he abruptly stepped back and let him fall in a heap, enjoying the gasp of pain he made. Not wasting any more time, he turned back around and looked for certain people. "Sasha. Michonne."

"On it," Michonne nodded, she and Sasha glancing at each other before heading off to the armoury.

He turned to the others now. "Carol, take watch from the north platform. Maggie, give Judith to Jessie, and you take watch from the tower, send who ever's there over to east. I need someone to go and get the construction crew," he called out, seeking a volunteer. "Holly? Is Holly here?"

"Yes," she said, rushing forward. "What do you need?"

"Construction crew," he said shortly, mentally kicking himself for not immediately calling them back when the supply run had departed. "I need you to get them, now. Take anyone and anyone weapons you need." As Holly gave a nod of agreement Maggie started towards him, and before she even spoke he knew what she was going to say. "Not a chance, Maggie. No way."

"He's my husband," she started to argue.

"And that's his baby you're carrying. No."

There was a brief moment in which it seemed Maggie was going to keep arguing, but she apparently thought better of it. "Who's taking the west post?" she asked, her face pale and tear stained. She clutched Judith against her side, unconsciously clinging to the child for support.

"I'll send Carl there," he said, putting his hand on her shoulder and making her look at him. "Maggie, he's going to b-"

"Don't you make me promises you can't keep," she cut him off fiercely. There was a long pause as Maggie took a breath, steadying herself. "If he's alive, he needs our help. If he's dead…then I don't wanna be waiting on him."

He nodded, understanding what she meant. She had to know what happened to him, no matter what. "One way or another, I'm going to find him," he assured her, embracing her and then kissing Judith on the cheek. "I promise."

From then on things happened very quickly. Knowing the route, Heath and Annie immediately volunteered to join the run, Michonne and Sasha returning from the armoury with Carl conveniently in tow. Thanking Heath and Annie, Rick gave them two minutes to be ready and then turned to his son, an explanation on the tip of his tongue.

"You have to go," Carl told him, anticipating what his father was going to say. "It's Glenn. Carrie and Noah too. You have to."

"Yes," he agreed, grateful for his understanding. "I'll be back as soon as I can. Until then, I want you to take watch from west. Get yourself a radio and rifle. We're going to need all hands on deck to keep this place under guard."

"Stay safe, Dad."

Embracing him, Carl accepted what had to be done, the measures that had to be taken to ensure the well being of their group, of their family. Saying nothing more, Carl headed off towards the armoury. Watching him as Ron Anderson joined him on his way, the friend that Rick only gave reluctant approval of, he turned away and kept moving, rushing through all the necessary checks. The crowd had not yet dispersed, and while he waited for Heath and Annie to join them, he looked into the back of the van.

At the far end there was a large pool of Tara's blood, a great deal of it smeared by those who had put her on the stretcher and taken her into the infirmary. Climbing into the back, he grabbed an old blanket folded there and hastily threw it over the blood, the coppery smell turning his stomach already. As he rifled through the contents, mentally checking off some maps and a first aid kit, his attention was drawn to a bright green back pack that was on the front seat. Opening it and looking inside, Rick felt his righteous anger returning in a fierce wave, clenching his hand around the top of the seat and trying to calm himself down. Righteous or not, he could not go into this run with his head filled with rage. No, rather he needed to be clear headed and methodical about this…he believed Nicholas when he said that Aidan was dead, but there were still other lives depending on him. Carrie was alive for sure, but Glenn and Noah?

"Good to see you had your priorities straight," Rick snarled, stepping out of the van and thrusting the bag at Nicholas. "You forgot half your crew, but you remembered the micro inverters."

Holding the bag as though it were his final damnation, Nicholas lowered his head again, filled with shame.

"You. My office. Now," Deanna snapped at him, pointing to her town house. "We need to talk."

It appeared she wasn't going to linger and wish Rick luck, nor Reg, an oversight for which he was grateful. Before he knew it Carol was there thrusting his jacket at him, knowing he'd need it for extra protection, and wishing them luck before heading to her post. As Sasha took the driver's seat and started the engine while Michonne climbed into the rear, he waited out on the street for Heath and Annie, watching as the others began dispersing the crowd. His eyes passed over Jessie who held Judith on her hip, and then over Maggie and Carol, the two of them armed and headed towards their designated watch posts. When Carl walked past in the same fashion, heading west, Rick gave him one last clasp on the shoulder before sending him on his way.

"You know how to get to Manning road?" Heath asked Sasha, taking the front seat and slamming the door closed.

As the two of them discussed their route, Rick thanked Annie again and helped her into the back before following her. Taking one last look around the streets of Alexandria, he braced himself for what he was going to find in Washington city, then reached out and slammed the doors shut.

* * *

Sitting atop the large truck next to Glenn, their arms entwined and their hands clenched together, Carrie looked down at the Walkers below. Her eyes scanning over the different faces, each in varying stages of decay, she imagined the truck being tipped over by an invisible force, by the hand of God who decided time was up for she and Glenn. Looking at the Walkers below, she wondered which of them would be the last face she saw if that happened, which snarling set of teeth would be the ones to tear into her face. Those bites would be a little different to the playful ones Rick liked to give, the sensual licks and bites that would leave marks on her skin.

Thinking of him, she reminded herself again to just wait, even though her body was screaming at her to do something, to start taking out the Walkers with whatever ammunition she had left and then make a run for it with Glenn. But no matter how often this thought crossed her mind Carrie stayed exactly where she was, knowing that Rick was coming, and certain that he wouldn't be the only one either. With a silent groan she thought about everyone who had gone out with the construction crew, that Aaron and Daryl were out recruiting again. Without them and without the construction crew, Alexandria would be vulnerable during the time Rick and whoever came with him were gone. Mentally trying to plan who would be put on watch, as if she really had any means of affecting that, she suddenly thought of Tara.

"Oh, shit," she groaned out loud, her heart sinking. "Tara."

"You said she was in the van," Glenn said urgently, looking up at her.

"She is," she assured him. "But she's on her back. I couldn't put her on her side without help. Fuck, I should have…what if she chokes? What if she…"

Trailing off, Carrie felt her heart speeding up and her stomach churning as she thought about her friend, picturing her in the back of the van choking to death if she vomited, or her head lolling forward and compromising her airway. Nicholas might not have even realised she was back there, that she was injured and might need care on the journey home. What if her head wound was worse than they thought? What if she bled to death right there in the back of the van? Right up until those moments, Carrie had been relatively in control of herself, but that was when she lost her cool, when she began breaking down into heavy sobs, clutching Glenn's hand and causing much the same reaction from him.

She clenched her eyes shut, trying to block it all out, to give herself sweet nothing to think about, but that only made it worse. All she could see was her friends, trapped and beyond her reach or help, Noah going down beneath a group of Walkers that quickly turned into a frenzy, Tara choking to death on her own vomit in the back of the van. She could hear it too, imagining things she hadn't even been witness to, as well as remembering the agonising screams from Aidan. Impaled and defenceless, there was nothing any of them could do as the Walkers converged on him, ravaging his body as he slowly died. Picturing that happening to herself, she could only hope that she had a bullet to spare in such a case, or that her friends could spare one for her.

Glancing down at each of her legs, she comforted herself with the presence of both her guns, knowing she still had a spare magazine for each…should the worst happen today, she'd inevitably be torn apart, but not while alive. Amidst her heavy tears she gave a small laugh to herself, for this wasn't the only time she'd entertained thoughts of suicide, and this wasn't even the worst situation she'd been in. At least now she had someone by her side and more help coming…before Rick picked her up off the side of the road almost three months ago, she'd never had that in this world, and yet still she entertained the idea of giving up.

Nevertheless, the guns strapped to her legs were a safety net, a way out should things go bad and she be left with no other way. Still hearing Aidan's death replaying in her mind, the Walkers below her serving as a steady background noise, Carrie's tears slowly subsided, she and Glenn clutching one another's hands as the minutes slowly dragged on by, eventually turning into an hour. Her head pounding and her cheeks dry at last, she still could not put her mind at ease. The noise inside her head raged on, making her want to throw her head back and scream, to do anything to silence it. But she did everything she could to quell to howl of misery that wanted to escape from the depths of her body, forcing it to stay inside. Instead she and Glenn waited in silence, not saying a word as they watched the main road outside the car park, just waiting for Rick to come.

Soon, one hour began approaching two, but Carrie entertained almost no conscious thought except for to replay everything that had happened. There was nothing for her to do now except question everything she had done, every decision she made in the heat of the moment. She should have taken Tara out to the van much sooner. Hopeful that they'd be back, she'd given Glenn and the others an extra thirty seconds before deciding to move Tara on her own…perhaps if she hadn't waited that extra thirty seconds, Noah might still be alive. Nicholas might not have panicked, he might not have been able to reach that stage had she got to them thirty seconds earlier. She shouldn't have waited…Noah would be alive if she hadn't. His voice was added to the cacophony that howled inside her head, blaming her for his death, asking her why she had done that to him.

"Carrie," Glenn whispered, squeezing her hand to get her attention. When she looked up at him, he gestured towards the car park. "They're here."

Raising her head, she watched as the van which had sped away nearly two hours ago returned. Innocuously approaching, it turned left into the car park and then slowed to a stop about halfway across. It lingered there in clear view of Glenn and Carrie, and a few moments passed before the rear doors swung open, quickly followed by the two front. Though her heart should have swelled with hope and relief to see her group, Carrie just watched on blankly. Rick was there, of course he was, Michonne, Sasha, Heath and Annie too. As Sasha leant back into the van and began blasting the horn, the others readied their weapons and spread out in a long line, Rick seamlessly directing everyone into positions.

The Walkers looked around in interest, moving in a slow procession as they turned and began approaching. After doing a quick look around in all directions, Rick nodded to himself and then gave the signal, the group of five opening fire. Yelping as the loud gunfire hammered at their sensitive ear drums, Glenn and Carrie released one another's hands and then covered their ears, whimpering at the discomfort. A short while later the noise ceased, Rick waving his hand above his head and telling everyone to fall back. Looking up and watching him, Carrie observed the way he loaded a new magazine into his rifle and then passed it to Annie, exchanging it for her empty one as they backed away from the Walkers. Working as a team, the group opened fire again, Michonne shouldering her rifle in exchange for her katana. She broke into a jog and doubled back behind the group, taking out stray Walkers that were appearing from the streets behind them.

Trying to drown out the noise, both internal and external to her head, Carrie kept her ears covered and then lowered her head to her knees. With her eyes closed she willed everything to stop…all she wanted was silence and darkness, to not hear the gunfire, to not hear Aidan dying or imagine Noah being torn apart in her mind's eye.

Sooner than she expected, she felt Glenn's hand on her shoulder, gently shaking her as he tried to rouse her attention. "Carrie…come on. You go first."

Slowly raising her head and opening her eyes, she came to the startling realisation that it was all over. There was no more gunfire, there were no more Walkers. Tentatively looking down, she saw Rick and Michonne standing below them where the Walkers had been, looking up in worry while the others stood watch. Though she could feel and hear Glenn trying to get her attention, Carrie found she couldn't move, that she couldn't register anything he was telling her. Frozen in place she looked at Rick, unable to take her eyes off him. She wanted nothing more than to go down to him, to seek the solace she knew he would willingly provide. He was looking at her too, his eyes somber and his mouth set in a grim line.

"Glenn," he said, looking away from her. "Just, come down. I'll get her."

The sound of Rick's voice seemed to snap something out of her, and there was a startling moment when it felt as though she had awoken, that she was aware of herself once more. Doing as he was told, Glenn squeezed the top of her knee supportively before he moved away, leaving her entire left side cold without him there. Managing to take a deep breath, Carrie turned and watched as he carefully climbed over the edge of the truck and descended the ladder, giving her a look of support before he disappeared over the side. Feeling a little more in control, she slowly stretched out her legs, feeling the circulation returning after so long seated in the one position. It seemed moving was a bad idea all around, for her body felt stiff and sore, but no worse than her right wrist. Glancing at it, she took note of a green bruise that was forming on the heel of her hand, barely visible beneath the blood and gore smeared up each of her forearms.

She heard the low murmur of Rick and Glenn talking, their soft voices blending into the background only to startle her when Rick spoke to her directly. "Carrie," he began, his voice soft and gentle. "Carrie, I'm coming up, okay?"

She hastily shook her head, lurching for a second. Taking a moment to breathe, she cleared her throat before slowly shuffling over to the place where Glenn had climbed down. Approaching the edge tentatively, she felt a whirl of vertigo come over her as she looked over the edge. Her right arm felt unusually heavy, putting her body off balance, but just as Rick was about to tell her to stay there, to wait for him to come up, she started. Holding the top rung of the ladder with her good hand, she slowly manoeuvred herself around and reached down with her foot to find a rung. Starting was the hardest part, and once she began to descend the process got easier, even with her right arm aching so badly. But despite the fight being over, the noise in her head refused to cease, and all she could hear was Noah.

 _"Why didn't you shoot the glass?" he was screaming at her, his face etched with despair. In the background, Aidan was coughing, struggling to breathe around the blood that filled his lungs. "Why did you leave us? You killed me! You left us!"_

"Slowly, Carrie," Rick told her, the twang of his accent comforting her in ways he didn't realise. "Take your time."

When she reached the ground her legs felt like they were going to give out beneath her, that she'd sink to the ground and be unable to get back up, but just like she knew he would be, Rick was there waiting for her. The moment she set foot on the ground his arms were slowly entwined around her, instinctually knowing their place, where they belonged. As he welcomed her into his embrace the noise in her head slowly began to die down, blissful silence finally engulfing her. After a long moment she finally returned his embrace, her hands moving around his waist to hold him tightly, to anchor herself to him. With silence came a sense of peace, that feeling compounded by the way Rick stroked his hand through her hair, his lips pressed to her forehead before he ushered her to start moving.

"Wait," Heath began tentatively. "Should we…shouldn't we go and get them? The others?"

No one needed to ask what he meant, who he was referring to. There was an uncomfortable pause, Carrie feeling the way Rick's arm around her shoulder tensed as he considered the suggestion. "No," he finally answered, always having to be the one who made the difficult calls. "We'll come back tomorrow, prepared. Ready."

Leaving the conversation at that, Rick moved on, his arm around her shoulder bringing Carrie along with him. Sasha was bringing the van closer, leaving the engine running as she got out and opened the rear doors for them. Glenn and Michonne got in first, followed by Rick and Carrie, then Annie. Letting Rick help her in after him leading her by the left hand, she did as she was told and sat down beside him. He removed his jacket and draped it over her shoulders, bringing the front together so she'd be warm. When he put his arm around her shoulder and encouraged her to rest against his side she did so without question. She allowed her body to relax into his, her head comfortably resting against his shoulder.

"Your arm's hurt," he commented softly.

As the van's doors closed and it lurched into movement a moment later, Carrie nodded slowly, unable to find her voice. She watched as he carefully took it in his own and moved it to rest on his knee, elevating it slightly. Against the contrast of his clean skin the blood on hers looked all the worse, and it highlighted how swollen her hand was becoming. Wondering if it was perhaps broken, an important question appeared in her mind, one that she should have asked immediately. Thankfully Glenn voiced it on her behalf.

"Tara?" he asked, panting as he lowered the bottle of water he had been drinking from. "Is she alright?"

"She's with Pete," Michonne answered. "We don't know any more than that."

Reaching across, Glenn held the bottle of water out for Carrie, but when she didn't take it Rick took it on her behalf. Removing his arm from around her he ushered her to sit up a little, removing the lid and handing the water to her. She knew his request would only be repeated, and so she took the bottle and drank from it, feeling the tepid water quenching her dry throat. She'd cried herself hoarse sitting atop that truck, and her body craved the moisture, so taking another mouthful wasn't even a conscious decision. Feeling her headache begin to ease a little, she handed the bottle back to Rick. As he secured the lid and then passed it to Annie on her other side, Carrie looked over at Glenn, checking on him.

Seated beside Michonne, he sat with his head back against the wall, his forearms resting on his knees as he looked into the front and watched the sky through the windscreen. His expression was blank, but she recognised the way his mouth was tense, the corners turned downwards as he tried to hold himself together. Looking around more, Carrie took in Michonne's familiar scowl and then Annie's sadness. Though she knew they understood, that they had seen the same things, she was unable to process their empathy, almost as if she resented them for understanding.

Rick put his arm back around her, the two of them returning to their former position as she rested her head against the front of his shoulder. She found comfort in his embrace, in the way he shifted his body more towards hers so as to hold her closer. Just like there had been when she saw him below her on the truck, his presence brought her the silence she needed, drowning out the sound and sight of everything that had happened. No longer thinking about what happened, she concentrated only on him, on the steady rise and fall of his chest, on the way his breath fluttered the hair on the crown of her head.

"Glenn…I need to know before we get back," Rick started, his tone apologetic. "What happened to them?"

Not wanting to hear the events recounted, Carrie closed her eyes for a little while, letting herself tune out to the conversation. With her head against his shoulder, she could hear Rick's voice rumbling in his chest, the deep sound making her feel as though she might fall asleep. The conversation was only brief, and having heard all he needed to for now at least, Rick fell silent and Carrie opened her eyes again. Aside from Heath and Sasha occasionally discussing their route, sounding as though they'd had difficulty finding the place, there was silence from the seven occupants of the van, a silence for which Carrie was grateful. She thought of very little for the entire journey back to Alexandria, her eyes either raised upward to look at the sky through the windscreen, or cast downwards, blankly focused on the pattern of wear on Rick's jeans. As if it would make everything better, she spent a great deal of time focused on assessing the quality of a patch that had been sewn onto his thigh, mending the place where he had been shot during the Governor's attack on the prison. With her right hand resting on his other leg to keep it elevated she reached out with her left and traced her fingers along the seam of the patch, absentmindedly touching the frayed edges.

"We're nearly home," Heath told them forty minutes later, looking over his shoulder as Sasha made a right turn onto the final road that would lead them to Alexandria.

A sense of reawakening seemed to sweep through the occupants of the back, Carrie feeling the way Rick took a deep breath. He shifted his position a little, sighing as he put his head back against the wall of the van. "I'll tell Deanna."

It seemed everyone had been waiting for this to be addressed, for there was a subtle but simultaneous reaction from those Carrie could see. Sitting up a little straighter, Glenn cleared his throat. "I'll tell our group," he added, his voice so soft they barely heard him.

"Michonne," Rick said next. "Will you stay with Carl, please. I don't know how long I'll be with Deanna."

"Of course."

At the mention of Carl's name and their proximity to home Carrie started to sit up, despite her desire to stay exactly where she was. But perhaps Rick shared this desire, for he didn't let her up…if anything, his arm around her tightened, asking her to stay. Nuzzling the top of her head, he sighed, "You need to go to the infirmary."

She gave a slight nod, not trusting herself to try and speak. All she wanted to do was stay right there with him, but short of that she'd let herself be patched up and then sit with Tara. Surely she'd be fixed up by now, laying in the infirmary with the worst headache of her life…they'd have to tell her about Noah and Aidan, but they'd at least be together in their grief. Despite Tara's injury and the potential impact, Carrie almost felt jealous of her…she got knocked out right when things went wrong. She didn't have to see or hear any of it. Tara was the lucky one, at least in Carrie's opinion.

"This is Heath," he said over the radio. "We're in sight. Someone open the gates for us."

Looking up through the windscreen, Carrie watched the sky and the tops of the trees, and less than a minute later Sasha was slowing down to enter Alexandria. Catching a glimpse of the gate and the walls she waited for the sense of relief to come, to feel glad that she and Glenn were back safely. Instead, it was an intense feeling of dread that over came her, and it almost rendered her immobile against Rick's side. They were going to have to face what had happened, to face the deaths that had occurred. She didn't know how to handle that, what she should say or how she should act. She'd handled deaths many times, and yet it didn't get easier. Knowing that reality was so close, Carrie closed her eyes and breathed in deeply, enjoying one last moment of solitude.

Feeling the car turn a corner and then slow to a stop Carrie sat up properly now, Rick reluctantly removing his arm from her waist and sitting up too. Squeezing her good hand he pulled his head away from hers just as the rear doors swung open, light streaming into the back of the van.

"Christ on a stick," Abraham said softly, looking inside and seeing who had returned and who had not.

Steeling herself, Carrie turned and looked out to find a dozen or so people anxiously peering into the van. Abraham was the closest, and when he looked at Carrie and Glenn his eyes widened and his expletive became significantly more vulgar. Exhaling, Abraham reached inside, helping Annie climb over the jumble of rifles in her way. As Michonne and Glenn stepped out too, squinting at the bright light outside, Carrie shuffled over with Rick close behind her, his hand resting on her elbow, steadying her.

"Be careful," Rick quickly told Abraham who was reaching out for her. "Her arm."

"I got you," Abraham said to her, his gruff voice surprisingly gentle, as was the way he took her by the left elbow and helped her out of the van.

She wondered why they were fussing so much, why Abraham showed such concern for her state, but as physical and mental exhaustion began to make itself known, she just went with it. Unsteady on her feet, she let Abraham slowly lead her up onto the pavement, Rick following with his hand on the centre of her back.

"I need to go," he said apologetically. "I'm sorry."

Understanding, for she knew what he needed to take care of, Carrie raised her head and looked him in the eye when she nodded. She tried to say something, to acknowledge what he had done and thank him, but the only sound she managed to make didn't quite count. Grateful, he looked at her for a moment longer before reluctantly turning and leaving, allowing her to look back at the ground. She didn't want to see any of the Monroe family right now, she didn't want to be privy to their grief for Aidan, certain that it would be more than she was capable of handling. Already she could hear the sadness spreading throughout the community, the two sudden deaths taking everyone by surprise. However when she heard Maggie's cry of relief, Carrie looked up to watch her reuniting with Glenn, her heart automatically seeking out the happy moment it needed to see. But looking up had been a bad idea, for it brought her face to face with the reality she'd hoped to avoid.

While Rick was heading towards the townhouses where the Monroe's were waiting for him, Michonne was nearby giving Carl the news about Noah. It looked like the teen was trying to be brave, but this facade crumbled quickly, his face falling as he listened to what Michonne told him. Almost as if he didn't believe her he made a point of walking towards the van and looking inside, just to be absolutely sure she was telling the truth.

"Carrie," a firm, but gentle voice started. "Carrie, can you look at me?"

Blinking, she was surprised to find Denise standing before her, pulling on a pair of sterile gloves while she peered at her. She felt a brief moment of confusion as she reoriented herself, remembering that Abraham was with her, that she was meant to be going to the infirmary. Intending to follow Denise inside, she started forward only for the doctor to stop her.

"Stay out here, I need the light," she began, raising her fingers and resting them under Carrie's chin. "Tilt your head up slowly, easy does it. Did you lose consciousness during the explosion?"

"No," she whispered, speaking for the first time since she'd been sitting atop that truck. Her voice was a hoarse whisper, feeling like it didn't really belong to her.

"Okay. Any discomfort in your eyes?" Denise asked, letting her lower her head and then shining a small flashlight into each of them.

"No."

Nodding, Denise put the flashlight away and then gently raised one hand to Carrie's face. "I'm going to be as gentle as I can, but I need to lower your right eyelid," she said, placing her fingertips on her forehead and then using her thumb to do so. "Look up."

Not completely understanding the fuss, Carrie did as she was told, flinching as Denise' thumb on her lower lid did in fact hurt. They went through the same process with the top lid, Denise making her look in every direction before she seemed satisfied. Moving on, she gently touched Carrie's nose and then cheek bone, the latter making her flinch away in pain.

"You're going to need some stitches on your scalp, but probably not on your cheek," Denise continued, moving on from her face and then tentatively moving her hair aside to look at her scalp again. Removing a stethoscope from around her neck she put the buds into her ear then slipped the other end under Carrie's shirt, gently pressing it against her ribs. "Take a slow, deep breath please. Any pain in your abdomen?"

"A…a little."

"Rate it out of ten for me."

"Uhh," she faltered, struggling to answer the simple question. She tried to come up with a number, but none of them seemed to correctly correspond, and so what came out of her mouth was, "I don't know."

Not protesting when Denise raised her shirt and looked at her stomach in the middle of the street, Carrie waited patiently for her to be done. Her gaze was fixed on the Infirmary door, wanting to go straight inside to see Tara, but she knew no one would let that happen until Denise was satisfied with her initial assessment.

"Carrie?" Denise said to her, peering at her in concern. "You with me, Carrie?"

"Yeah," she said impatiently, blinking rapidly as she looked at her.

Taking her left hand, Denise firmly pressed two fingers to the inside of her wrist to feel for her pulse. "Do you know what day it is?"

She answered without thinking. "Spaghetti Tuesday."

Abraham cleared his throat and then clarified. "She means Wednesday. Spaghetti Tuesday is every Wednesday…don't ask why."

"Okay," Denise nodded slowly, still peering at her in concern. "Let's get you inside and sitting down, okay? I'll get you some ice for your face and your arm, and then something for the pain."

"Have you got this from here?" Abraham asked gruffly, unsure of whether his company was still required.

"I think so," Denise reassured him.

Taking his leave, Abraham gently clasped Carrie on the shoulder. "It's been one ass fuck of a day, I'll tell you that."

Smiling out of reflex rather than amusement, she went with Denise to the infirmary, looking over her shoulder as they stepped up onto the porch. Everyone was still congregated out on the street, a few people hugging, most people crying, her own group included. Carl stood stoic with Michonne by his side, and although his face was pale and downcast, not a tear slipped from his eyes. As if he could feel her watching him, he looked over at her now, his expression softening into sympathy for her, looking her up and down before turning away. Glenn and Maggie were approaching now, the couple hand in hand as they too headed for the infirmary.

As more and more people kept looking at her as she left, Carrie turned away and focused on what she was doing, on walking slowly so as to not jostle her arm as much. Entering the infirmary with Denise by her side and Glenn not far behind her, she had to take a moment to let her eyes adjust to the interior, and when they did she looked over to the bed first. She could see Tara laying there, her head swamped in a crisp white bandage, her eyes closed. Eugene sat awkwardly by her side, looking completely out of place, but Carrie had no doubt that he wouldn't be leaving any time soon. It was darker than usual, the only lamp and monitor being run off a heavy duty battery.

"Can I see h-"

"No," Denise cut her off gently, steering her towards a comfortable reclining chair and gesturing for her to sit down. "You need to let us get you cleaned up. Right now, you're a walking infection."

As if she had only just realised the state she was in, she looked down at herself. Her clothing was a mess from the explosion and it was spattered in gore from the Walkers she had killed in the warehouse, from the mess she had slipped and fallen in. Not blaming Denise for her refusal, Carrie sat down and let the doctor fuss, breathing a sigh of relief when her sore hand was gently placed on a soft pillow in her lap. She glanced over at Glenn for a moment, watching him sink into another chair with a long groan, flinching as he gently twisted his torso. Maggie was there fussing over him, looking him up and down, already dabbing at a cut over his eyebrow

"Ice packs. One for Glenn, two for Carrie," Denise said, looking over her shoulder at Rosita who had appeared out of nowhere. "And a smaller one for her eye."

As Rosita headed into the kitchen, Denise fussed a little, readjusting Rick's jacket around Carrie's shoulders before laying a blanket across her lap, spreading it up and over her stomach too. When Rosita brought over some wrapped icepacks and gently applied them, she and Denise talked a little, the two women thinking out loud about their newest patients.

"There's no perforation, or debris," Denise remarked, looking into Carrie's ear with an instrument before wheeling her stool around to her other side and repeating the process. "Same on this side. How's your hearing? Does it feel a little funny?"

"A little," she answered, still looking at Tara across the room. Seeing her lying there, her pulse a steady beep on the battery run monitor, she wondered where Pete was.

"In what way? Is there any ringing, or maybe it feels muffled?"

"Just, like…"

Trailing off, Carrie didn't bother trying to regain her train of thought. Completely exhausted, she settled for silence, allowing Rosita to make her rest her head back, giving her a small ice pack to hold against her right eye. Although she could hear Denise telling her a few things she was probably supposed to be listening to, Carrie found she just didn't care. While she tolerated their plans to patch her up, she wanted nothing more than to drag this chair over to Tara's bedside and curl up in it, to turn her mind off and just wait for her to rouse.

"Where's Pete?" she asked abruptly. Sitting up a little, she removed the ice pack from her face and looked around. Why wasn't he with Tara? He should be right by her side.

Denise and Rosita exchanged a loaded glance. "He's gone to patch up Nicholas," Denise answered.

The mention of this name put Carrie on edge, her heart rate speeding up and her throat suddenly feeling tighter. Ignoring Denise' plea that she not, she sat up properly and looked around as if Nicholas was going to suddenly appear from one of the adjoining rooms. "Where?" she demanded. "Where is he?"

"Carrie, don't you waste a single thought on him!" Maggie said loudly. Turning away from Glenn, she looked Carrie in the eye, her southern accent stronger as her passion and anger grew. "Not after what he did."

White hot anger surged through her body, and before she could even consciously think about it Carrie was on her feet. Her haste to leave saw her bumping into Denise's trolley of instruments, the pillow, blanket and ice packs falling to the floor while Rosita hastened over to intercept her. Nicholas' face was crystal clear in her mind, and she could hear Noah's voice screaming at her, screaming that she get him an explanation. She burst outside, the bright sunlight forcing her to shield her eyes as she strode across the porch and back out onto the street.

Rosita was following after her, falling into step by her side as everyone looked around at them, surprised to see her back before she'd been cleaned up. Ignoring them all she managed to shove past Abraham who tried to stop her, knowing instantly where she was going, and why. Her blood boiled at the thought of what Nicholas was doing, that he was avoiding the infirmary for a reason, that he was too cowardly to face what he had done. She wasn't going to let that happen…he wasn't going to make excuses this time, and nor was she going to be stupid enough to forgive him.

Going past the exterior wall of Deanna's courtyard, Carrie made a point of not looking up into the house, wanting to avoid the Monroe's at all costs. As she passed their garage she could hear crying through an open window above, Rick no doubt in there to deliver the news that Aidan was dead. Knowing that Nicholas lived in the shared townhouse with his son Mikey, and that the garage was used as the school, Carrie went straight there, noticing the garage door was wide open. Rosita was still with her, trying to talk her down from whatever she was planning, but Carrie ignored her, feeling a little betrayed in fact. Surely Rosita knew what she was experiencing, that she understood the white hot anger that demanded a resolution.

Bursting into the school garage, she was momentarily stunned to see Nicholas sitting at one of the desks, Pete sitting across from him and applying a line of stitches to the back of his forearm. If he was trying to hide from those he had nearly killed, he was doing a poor job of it. Hearing the commotion, he looked up in surprise, his dark, beady eyes frightened of her already.

"C-Carrie," he breathed, his whole body slumping in what looked like relief. "You're alr-"

"What have you told them?" she growled angrily, looking him in the eye as she advanced upon him. In one fluid motion Pete stood up and faced her, holding his gloved hands up to make her stay back.

"The truth," Nicholas said.

"Oh, the truth?" she questioned, stepping to the left so she could see around Pete. "Do you know what the truth is? Because I seem to remember you had a pretty big problem with it a while back!"

"I told Rick what happened," Nicholas argued, clutching his forehead for a moment as he tried to think. "I told him everything," he said in a deadpanned voice, looking up as their argument drew more people.

Mikey and Ron hovered in the doorway towards the rest of the house, and footsteps behind her indicated that more people had followed, that they had an audience now. In one respect Carrie knew this should have influenced her behaviour, that she should calm down and watch what she said, no matter how justified she was. But it felt like her civic duty to inform every person in Alexandria what Nicholas had done, what a danger he was…the people here thought Rick was a danger to them. Trying not to laugh, Carrie knew their worst danger was people like Nicholas.

"Did you tell him how you killed Noah?" The voice that was coming out of her mouth was not her own, it didn't sound like her at all. Too filled with grief and anger, her voice was harsh, her tone and volume borderline hysterical. "Did you tell him that you wouldn't go back for Aidan?"

"He was impaled on a fork lift!" Nicholas shouted back at her, the chair scraping loudly across the concrete as he stood up. "Impaled!"

"You said you checked him, that he was dead! And then you wouldn't even try to help him!"

"There was nothing we could do!"

"Then you killed Noah!" she accused, making herself heard over Pete who was trying to stop her. "You killed him. All you had to do was wait for me to come back, and I would have got you all out of there!"

"I didn't know you were coming back," he tried to argue, his eyes darting around to all of the spectators, waiting for someone to come and help him. "I didn't know…"

Carrie was momentarily dumfounded, and she gave a short laugh of disbelief. "Where did you think I was going?" she asked incredulously. "Honestly, tell me. Where did you think I was going?"

"I…I didn't know, I just-"

"Did you think I was acting like you? That I was running away?"

"No, I thought that…" he spluttered, trying to come up with something that wouldn't bring the blame upon himself. "I was trying to-"

"To what? Kill us?"

"No!"

"But that's what you did!"

"No!"

"Yes!" she screamed now. Taking a shuddering breath, she saw Rick appearing in the corner of her vision, hovering on the sidelines and ready to intervene. "You forced your way out, you knew it would kill Glenn and Noah! You left them for dead, and then you left me too!"

"Carrie, I-"

"I just wanted one minute to be sure! One minute to make sure that we couldn't save them, but you left me there!"

"I thought they were dead," he appealed, shrinking back away from her. "There was no point."

"He wasn't dead. Glenn was alive, and so was I."

Nicholas shook his head to himself, taking a deep breath. "I had to get Tara back," he reasoned. "She was bleeding, she was…I had to get her back."

Carrie's expression fell, and for a moment she was shocked into silence, surprised that he had said what he did, that he could be so impossibly stupid. But even more stupid was she and Glenn, for they had trusted him…they had trusted him for months now, and he was nothing but a liar with only his own self-interest at heart. Her own stupidity hurt almost as much as her grief did.

"You had to get Tara back?" she questioned incredulously.

"Yes!" he insisted. "You wouldn't come with me, I tried to make you…so I had to go. I had to, for Tara."

There was silence, Carrie's breathing slowing down as she saw the resolution was near, that Nicholas had just hammered the final nail into his own coffin. Brushing her hair off her face, she cleared her throat and then looked him in the eye.

"Liar," she stated boldly, not bothering to keep her voice down. When Nicholas' face fell, Carrie barely withheld a smile, pleased by his reaction. "Liar!"

"I'm not-"

"You didn't even know she was in the van!" she screamed at him, advancing towards him. "You didn't know she was there!"

In his haste to get away Nicholas stumbled backwards, clumsily bumping into another school desk.

Her fists clenched and her brain telling her to attack, Carrie started forward towards him, determined to make him pay, to make him suffer. But the others got there first, and it was short sighted to think that they wouldn't. Still, she couldn't help but feel betrayed when her group stepped in to stop her, Rick grabbing her elbow with one hand and putting his arm around her waist, Rosita grabbing her other arm. Together they wrestled her back and into submission, robbing her of the vengeance she wanted to extract on behalf of Noah. Her anger increased exponentially, especially towards Rick…the night in Franklin when Aidan and Nicholas had lied he had been allowed to extract his revenge. He'd punched Aidan, and he'd tried for Nicholas too…he understood the need she felt, and yet he didn't let her fulfil it.

Though she knew she couldn't fight Rick and Rosita off, that she didn't stand a chance, Carrie fought roughly to make them release her, the white hot anger that surged through her veins not allowing her to see anything other than Nicholas. In that moment she'd never wanted to hurt someone as badly as she wanted to hurt him, not even the men who had raped her. She wanted to afford Nicholas the same death he had given Noah, to take him outside the walls and throw him into one of the pits of Walkers, to hear him screaming in agony as they tore him apart while he was still breathing. She'd stand and watch every moment, never taking her eyes off him until the Walkers were done, until the feeding frenzy stopped and it was all over.

"Stop," Rick said lowly, holding her around the middle. "Carrie, stop. You're hurting yourself."

"Let me go," she growled. "Rick! Let me go!"

To her surprise, he did. Exchanging a glance with Rosita, he slowly loosened his restraint, but their hold on her did not completely cease. With Rosita still clutching her left arm and Rick still holding her elbow, they stepped back just enough to let her say her last, while still preventing her from attacking Nicholas. Looking at him again, at the way he practically cowered on the other side of the room near Pete and his son, Carrie took a deep breath before starting again.

"You weren't thinking of Tara," she started hoarsely. "You weren't thinking of your group. You were thinking of you!

Nicholas ran out of things to say, and he finally shut up, finally giving Carrie what she wanted. His non-response was about as close to an admission of guilt as she was going to get, and so with that in mind, she continued, repeating his offences and laying them all out for him.

"You wanted to leave Aidan for dead, without even trying to help him. You got Noah killed. You left Glenn for dead, and then you left me for dead too. Then you lied about it all, just so no one would know the truth about you."

"The truth?" he asked, looking up at her. He trembled nervously, his bottom lip shaking as he awaited her conclusion, her final statement about him.

She nodded, shrugging her arm out of Rosita's grip and pointing her finger at him. "You're a fucking coward," she told him, her tone factual rather than emotional. "You're the one who should be dead, not them."

Not responding, Nicholas looked at her for a moment longer before turning away, nervously looking around at everyone else who was there, watching his public trial at the hands of someone he had wronged. Having taken all the satisfaction that would be afforded to her she wrenched her elbow out of Rick's hand and then left, grateful when he allowed her to. Shoving her way past everyone, and avoiding the gaze of Spencer who had also been present, Carrie burst out of the school and headed towards the solar panels, needing to be surrounded by the wide open space rather than suffocated by four walls and a roof.

Not entirely sure of where she was going, knowing only that she was in no condition to go outside the walls, Carrie slowed to a stop and then sat down in the middle of the grassed area where Gabriel occasionally held an outdoor mass. She knew people had followed her at a distance, watching to make sure she was okay, but there was only one person she would allow to join her. Only one person was welcome to share in her grief and anger that very moment, and it wasn't even Rick.

A few minutes later Glenn joined her, slumping down on her left with a long sigh. She glanced at him, glad to see that just like hers, his face was read and tear stained. He carried with him the ice packs she had abandoned, and vehemently insisted she allow him to apply them. Laying one across her lap, she rested her right arm across it and then let him put the next one on top, his touch gentle so as to not hurt her. Using his sleeve to wipe at his damp cheeks, he applied his own ice pack to his jaw and then looped his arm through her left one, their hands automatically entwining with one another. They sat exactly like that had atop the truck only an hour ago.

"You need to come back to the infirmary," he said softly, clenching his fingers around hers.

Carrie shook her head, maintaining her refusal. "No. Not yet."

"When?" he pressed, sounding a little disappointed.

Lowering her head into her lap, Carrie shuddered for breath as she clenched her eyes shut, but nothing she did would stem the tears that were falling. "I don't know," she said shakily, not wanting to face anything back there. "Just not yet."

* * *

A/N Dear **ren** (guest) - thank you so much for your review and your feedback, it's always such a joy to read about how engrossed people have become in my story. Reviews can work as you please - the vast majority don't review, whereas those that do tend to become repeat reviewers, so I often see the same screen names popping up. I do my best to reply to all reviews, but on if you're not logged in then I can't respond to your review directly. If you'd like me to respond to any reviews you post then please sign up and log in to read (sign up for chapter alerts too), otherwise just review at your leisure. I love reading people's reactions and what they loved most, and what they're looking forward to/scared of in future chapters. It's a great boost when I'm writing, especially when I'm struggling. Thanks again ren!


	30. Chapter 30

Love seeks not itself to please, not for itself has any care, but for another gives its ease, and builds a Heaven in Hell's despair. - William Blake

* * *

The evening brought with it heavy rain, a not so subtle echo to what the community of Alexandria was going through. With water dripping through his hair and running down the back of his shirt, Rick readjusted his blazer as he concluded his evening rounds, trailing his fingers along the cool, damp metal of the walls that protected them. He both dreaded and looked forward to the thought of going home that night. He wanted to crawl into his warm bed and close his eyes, but at the same time he did not, because he knew exactly what he would see. Walking past Gabriel's garage church, which was still alight with candles and a prayer group, Rick avoided looking inside, resenting those people who still had faith from which they could find comfort. Instead he looked up at the townhouses as he passed them by, seeing a little light glowing from their windows…even through the death of their son, Reg and Deanna remembered to close their curtains so Alexandria could keep a low profile at night. He recalled the moment he had told Reg and Deanna that Aidan was dead, and that he was was certain. Though he hadn't seen it with his own eyes, Glenn and Carrie had, and that was the only confirmation he needed to deliver the news.

Prior to the outbreak, Rick had delivered far too many death notifications, had seen first hand the way denial and grief would tear a person down to nothing. Normally a death notification to next of kin was a fairly standard affair, one in which he knew what to expect and how to handle, but today had been different. Not only did he have a highly personal relationship with the family, but he was delivering Reg and Deanna his own worst fear - the death of their child. When he delivered the news and watched the way they moved straight past denial and into grief, Rick had to wonder who was luckier - them or him. When he thought Judith had died he blocked it all out, allowing himself to feel nothing while he focused on the survival of his remaining child. But as the few days passed and things settled down with the arrival of Michonne and then Daryl, the quiet moments of grief came, moments he intentionally hid from the others. Despite this, his grief for his daughter came to an end a few days later…Deanna's would not.

As the rain began to fall a little heavier Rick reluctantly picked up his pace and returned home, knowing he couldn't put it off forever. He looked at the infirmary as he walked past it, knowing that Tara had not only Eugene and Rosita by her side, but Pete too. Regardless of what had happened between them that afternoon, with Pete barging into his house and making thinly veiled threats towards Rick's children and Carrie, he was grateful for the doctor's experience and expertise. Tara had a serious head injury, and she wasn't looking like she was in the best state right now. But Pete assured them she would pull through, and so far she had.

Arriving back home, he found Carol sitting on the front porch waiting for him, a camping lantern burning low on the coffee table. Joining her, he shook the majority of water off his blazer and then slumped down onto the two seater. There was comfortable silence for a few moments, the two of them still absorbing all the events of that day.

"Is that for us?" Rick enquired, suddenly noticing two glasses filled with amber liquid sitting on the coffee table.

As if she'd just remembered it, Carol got up from the rocking chair and reached for them. "I think we deserve them," she muttered, taking one for herself and handing him the other. "To Noah."

"To Noah," he echoed her toast, touching their glasses together.

Given money didn't matter, these days they enjoyed the finer taste of thirty year old whiskey, and this one didn't fail to disappoint. Drinking it down in one go, Rick sighed as he put the glass back on the coffee table and then slumped back into the seat, both physically and mentally exhausted.

"Judith's been up for a while tonight. She went to sleep about an hour ago," Carol told him softly. "Carl too."

"Really?" he frowned, looking at his watch. It was only nine o'clock now…that was too early for Carl to be going to bed. And yet just as this thought occurred to him, so too did the explanation. What else was there to do in the midst of grief but hide in your bedroom for privacy?

"I think he's reading. Are you ready for tomorrow?"

"No," he answered. "But yes."

With only a slim chance that there would be much to recover, Rick was leading a group back into Washington to try and retrieve the bodies of Aidan and Noah…or what was left of them anyway. Glenn had drawn them a map of the warehouse, had told them where the remains would be located. There was not one of them going who didn't dread the task of pulling Aidan off the prongs of the fork lift, nor scraping what was left of Noah off the atrium floor. He'd been next door for the last few hours, running through their plans and preparing contingency solutions. Abraham, Sasha, Annie, Heath and Scott would be joining him, along with two body bags that they weren't certain they'd even need.

Abraham was right when he'd commented that it had been an ass fuck of day. So much had happened in such a short amount of time, some of it Rick wasn't even aware of until an hour ago. While he had been scrambling to put together a run crew and head back into Washington to retrieve those Glenn and Carrie, Abraham had been scrambling to save Francine after an incident with the construction crew at the mall. When Walkers had appeared out of nowhere, the crew had fought back as usual, but to everyone's surprise, Tobin had faltered at the last minute. Despite everything he'd learnt on the supply run to Georgia with Rick's group, Tobin lost his nerve at the last minute and called for the crew to fall back, abandoning Francine who was injured after falling from her watch post. As he always did, Abraham stepped up to the plate and handled the situation, simultaneously saving Francine's life and earning the new role of construction chief. In the aftermath, Tobin had all but resigned from the position, horrified with his uncharacteristic loss of nerve.

As he recalled Tobin's involvement in the Georgia supply run, he recalled Aidan's involvement too, one particular moment coming to mind. In light of the young man's youthful arrogance and pride, it was easy for Rick to forget that he had been integral in saving Carl's life the day of the car accident, the day he took a stray bullet to the upper thigh. Aidan had been one of those applying first aid. Having trained in the ROTC and under Pete during his early months following the outbreak, Aidan had treated Carl's injury throughout most of the supply run. In light of his flaws it had been too easy for Rick to forget what Aidan had done for his son.

"I'm going to bed," Carol decided, her voice breaking Rick from his thoughts. Getting up from the rocking chair, she collected their whiskey glasses and passed him the blanket that had been around her shoulders. "Try to get some sleep, okay?"

"Thank you for today," he started as Carol walked past him. He caught her eye as she looked at him curiously. "For Carrie."

It made his heart hurt when he thought of what she was going through, the grief and trauma she'd be struggling to get past for some time. After everything had died down following the fight with Nicholas, Glenn had eventually convinced Carrie to come back to the infirmary. Confident that she was being looked after, Rick had been forced to return to the Monroe's, to do his duty to them by answering their questions, giving them all the information that he could. Only after promising that he would organise a group to attempt retrieving Aidan's remains, Rick left, knowing he was of no more use to them, that they needed to be alone with each other. On his way home to find Carl, he had stopped in at the infirmary, needing to check on the three members of his group that were presently there.

He'd fully expected to find Maggie by Glenn's side, as well as Eugene by Tara's side, but it was who was with Carrie that took him by surprise. It was Carol who sat by her side, Carol who pressed the ice pack against her face and supportively held her hand. He suspected Carrie didn't even notice his arrival, one eye covered by the ice pack, the other looking out the window with an absent expression, but he knew Carol's presence by her side was a comfort. Even after two months, Carol hadn't exactly adjusted to Carrie's unexpected arrival, nor to Rick's insistence that she was now an integral part of their group. Carol's preference to keep her at arms' length had been disconcerting to Carrie, keeping her always one step behind and wondering what she did wrong…to see Carol supportively sitting with her was a relief.

In response to his gratitude, Carol just nodded. "She's one of us now."

As Carol retired to her bedroom, Rick managed a small smile for himself, beginning to understand what went on in Carol's head. Before he returned to Alexandria after the supply run, he and Carrie had three weeks worth of shared experience, of dealing with threats and having one another's back…Carol had not had that. He understood now that her resistance to Carrie stemmed not from mistrust or dislike, but from their lack of shared experience with one another. Today had changed things…they were sharing their grief for Noah, they were sharing the injustice of what had happened. Furthermore, Carrie had more than proved herself to be an adequate team member…she had saved Tara's life, and she'd called Nicholas out on all his shit. For Carol, that must have been adequate.

Beginning to think about Noah, a renewed sense of guilt grew in the pit of his stomach, for one could not think about Noah without thinking about Beth. She'd died trying to have the last word with Dawn, trying to avenge the injustice of Noah being forced to stay while she was allowed to leave. When the initial shock of her death had worn off, and the group had dedicated their next move to getting Noah home to Richmond, it had been on behalf of Beth. Every day Noah lived had been on behalf of Beth, and while Rick knew he wasn't meant to think this way, he'd sometimes resented Noah for that. The day they did the exchange for Beth and Carol, the only reason he'd fought for Noah's release was in return for his help, and for Beth too. When she died, he had resented Noah, as if he was to blame, not Beth herself. Now that Noah was dead too, Beth's death felt even more pointless.

An hour had passed by the time Rick found the strength to get up, to go back inside and get ready to try sleeping. Wiping his wet eyes with the back of his hand, he cleared his throat as he loaded the dishwasher with the mugs and cutlery that were left out, going about the normal routine that fell to the last person who went to bed. Double checking all the windows and doors which were never locked anyway, he hit the lights and then slowly made his way upstairs, mentally counting down the days until he should expect Aaron and Daryl to return. What he wouldn't give to have Daryl back right now, to have his strong but silent support in wading through the shit storm that had gone down, and the other shit storm with Pete that he could feel brewing. This was the second time Daryl had left on a recruiting run, and the second time shit had hit the fan in his absence. He dreaded having to tell him about Noah's death, for although they weren't particularly close, Daryl cared about him because Beth had.

Reaching the top of the staircase, Rick hovered at the threshold and looked down the hallway. Every bedroom door was closed, their first line of defence against unexpected Walker attacks during the night, but what he didn't expect to find was light visible underneath two of the doors. To his left, light streamed out from beneath the two double doors that led to the shared master bedroom, and straight ahead at the front of the house light came from beneath Carrie's bedroom door. Looking at his watch and seeing that it was approaching ten thirty at night, he knew that by their household standards it was getting rather late. They were in the habit of early to bed, early to rise, and by now typically the whole household was fast asleep.

Though he knew he should be going straight to bed, Rick felt torn by the light coming from Carrie's bedroom, feeling the need to check on her. She'd spent almost the entire day at the infirmary, first being patched up and then sitting by Tara's bedside, waiting for her to awaken. Departing only with the assurance that someone would come and get her if Tara awoke, she had reluctantly come home. But she hadn't eaten, and nor had she been in the mood to talk. Letting Carol help her secure a plastic bag around the cast on her broken wrist, she'd taken a well deserved shower and then stayed in her room. Only Carol had been with her that evening, helping her dry her hair with a hair dryer before helping her get comfortable in bed. She'd been alone now for a few hours, and Rick had presumed she'd gone to sleep…he should have known better. As if she could possibly sleep after everything that had happened.

Glancing at his own bedroom door, he figured that the light was still on because Carl had fallen asleep reading. It was a usual routine of theirs…they'd go to bed, and most nights Rick would wake up near midnight to find Carl asleep with a novel or comic book flat against his chest. Despite the grief he was feeling, Rick was certain that Carl would be reading tonight, most likely the next Harry Potter book. When he'd once questioned Carl's liking of wizards, dragons and flying broomsticks, Michonne had explained it very well…these days, reading was about the only form of escapism they had. Why wouldn't Carl be interested in the story of a boy who was plucked from his miserable life and sent to a magical school? With that understanding that, Rick rarely told Carl off for reading so late into the night.

Checking on him, he opened the bedroom door and looked in, unsurprised to find him exactly the way he did every night, the book on his chest and his head tipped back. Going in for a moment, he looked into the crib and adjusted the blankets around Judith, surprised to see that she had spit out her pacifier, that she was sleeping happily without it…for now, anyway. Her duck with the brown piece of fabric stitched onto it was held loosely by her side, close by for when she needed a little extra comfort. Satisfied that his children were sleeping, he changed out of his clothes that were slightly damp from the rain and into his regular sweats before creeping out of the room. Closing the door behind himself, he softly made his way down the hall towards Carrie's bedroom, hoping that he would find her fast asleep, the light having been left on by accident. He lightly knocked on her bedroom door, both glad and disappointed when he heard her inviting him in. Opening the door and stepping inside, he looked at the bed to find her sitting upright, her knees pulled to her chest and a book in her lap. Judging by the state of the bedding she had been trying to sleep, only to give up and seek distraction instead.

"I hope you don't mind," she began tentatively, showing him the cover. It was the James Patterson book he had been reading, that had been on his nightstand. "Carol said it would be okay."

Closing the door behind himself, Rick nodded. She could take anything she needed from him. "Can I stay with you a little while?" he asked, already settling himself onto his unofficial side of the bed.

She didn't reply verbally, but she gave a short nod as he moved beside her and put his arm around her shoulder. Much like they had in the van that afternoon, he pulled her against him, the two of them gently shifting around until they were both comfortable. With a long sigh she settled against his chest, her broken wrist resting on a pillow by her other side.

"I can't stay for long," he apologised, letting her know in advance.

"I understand," she whispered, looking up at him for a moment. "How's Carl doing?"

Rick sighed. As he pondered this question he trailed his fingers through her hair, mindful of the cut on the back of her scalp. "He'll be okay. He just needs time, I think."

"They were friends, weren't they?"

He nodded, Noah being the only one of Carl's friends that he held more than reluctant approval for. Looking down at Carrie, he was grateful that she had thought to ask about Carl. He should have expected that of course, for she cared about Carl a lot. Observing her closely now, he felt his heart clenching to see the damage the explosion had inflicted upon her face. Her right cheekbone and lower eyelid were swollen, bearing a sickly yellow bruise that only highlighted the contrast of her inner eye. Pete had assured them that bleeding inside her eye looked worse than it really was, that it would fade away over the next few weeks. There was no harm to her vision, but the injury was awful to see, a blight on her otherwise beautiful eyes. He looked at her right arm now, checking on her fingers and making sure there was no more swelling. They'd been warned to watch for that, to ensure that the cast Pete had put on wasn't too tight. She'd be wearing that for at least six weeks, and it would serve as a reminder in the same way her injured eye would…what had happened to Aidan and Noah would be with her for a while yet.

Feeling his heart aching for her, Rick kissed her forehead tenderly, wishing he could make it all go away, that he could fix this. Looking back at the book she returned to her reading, not needing to explain to him that she was trying to turn her mind off, that every time she tried to sleep she was reliving everything that had happened. He knew what she was experiencing, and he knew better than to try and make her feel better with just words. What she needed now was the knowledge that support was there, that she didn't even need to ask for it. Enjoying the comfortable silence, Rick rested his jaw against the side of her head, breathing in the scented shampoo she had used. He remembered the numbness that flooded his body when Nicholas had first returned, when he had looked into the back of the van to find only Tara. Rubbing the top of Carrie's arm, he thought about the long drive they had taken into the city to find her, to find anyone else who had survived the crisis that had befallen them.

They had rode in absolute silence, the only words spoken being between Heath and Sasha as they made their way through the city itself. Sitting in the back of the van with Annie and Michonne, Rick had been preparing himself for the very worst, and despite his disbelief in him, he'd actually payed to God…for once he had come through. There was no describing the sheer relief he had felt upon finding Glenn and Carrie sitting atop the trucks, seeing that they had been patiently awaiting their rescue. Seeing them both alive had made everything better, even though it simultaneously confirmed that Noah and Aidan were likely dead…selfishly, if Rick could bargain with God to choose two survivors, it would have been Carrie and Glenn without question.

But even then it wasn't over, and when they cleared the Walkers and approached the truck, it was clear that Carrie and Glenn had been through absolute hell. While Glenn would at least look down and respond to them, Carrie sat completely still, her hands covering her ears and her face buried in her knees. It was only at Glenn's prompting that she actually raised her head, but even then it seemed that was all she was capable of doing. Fearing she was practically catatonic, Rick had been fully prepared to climb up there and bring her down himself, the logistics be damned, he'd find a way, but she'd come around. As if Glenn's departure from her side had awoken her, she blinked and seemed to pay attention, slowly making her way down the ladder and letting Rick engulf her straight away.

She was a sight for sore eyes, but finding her alive didn't alleviate the pain he felt upon seeing her state. She hadn't spoken a word to him on the journey home, to anyone for that matter, and when he'd heard the commotion coming from the school following their return home he barely recognised her voice. Hoarse and strained, Carrie had been borderline hysterical when she confronted Nicholas, and though he hated to prevent her extracting the vengeance she so deserved, Rick had stopped her from attacking him. Bad enough that she had two guns, a knife and machete strapped to her body, she would only be hurting herself even more.

Feeling her give a soft shudder he looked down at her. Though he'd been there fifteen minutes now, she hadn't turned a single page in the book. Paying attention he nuzzled her forehead and realised she was crying, detecting the distinct aroma that he was more used to than he'd like. His heart ached for her, his nature telling him to bring her some kind of comfort, he just wasn't sure how. There was little he could say to relieve her suffering, and nothing he could do to make her forget. Brushing her hair off her face, he gently prompted her to look up at him, glad when she did. Readjusting his arm around her he reached up with his other hand and gently brushed the moisture away from her cheeks, being even more gentle on her bruised skin. There was only one thing he could think of that would bring her any kind of comfort, something that shouldn't have waited so long in the first place.

"I love you."

The words were easier to say than he expected, and he said them without fear or apprehension. It was shitty timing, that much he acknowledged, for he would have liked to tell her this during happier moments, but he needed to say it now. He'd been wrong to wait so long in the first place, his cowardice meaning that she had to go through this entire ordeal without knowing that he loved her, without that knowledge to support her. Looking her in the eye he repeated the words with ease and then kissed her forehead again…he wasn't scared about what was going to happen next, about how much it might hurt if she rejected him. She deserved to hear it, to know how he felt.

Her reaction was not what he had expected, not in any scenario. Clenching her eyes shut she lowered her head to his shoulder, not letting him see her face. He felt the way her body tensed, knowing that even as she turned and reached over to properly embrace him she was trying to hold herself together. There was a long moment of silence, and the only thing to be heard was her heavy breathing. A few moments later she drew a deep breath and held it, letting it out slowly as her body relaxed. Only then did she lift her head and look at him.

"I love you too," she told him, her voice heavy with emotion. Tears spilling from her eyes, she took a deep breath and then repeated herself. "I love you, Rick."

He didn't feel relief as he had expected he might, more just that something had come full circle, that a sense of equilibrium had been gained. Hearing those words from her brought a feeling of completion, that something he had worried about was no longer a problem…he loved her, and she felt the same way. Feeling the moment call for it he shifted his position a little and kissed her. It was a soft kiss, gentle and filled with a new type of uncertainty he hadn't felt before, almost as if they were acknowledging that something new had begun in that moment. Everything they had been pretending to be was done with, the mask of friends with benefits falling away as their lips met.

Pushing her hair behind her ear he opened his mouth for her, letting her deepen the kiss at her desire. His body flooded with arousal, instinct telling him that sex was the natural progression, even though he knew it shouldn't be. With a few key words said the entire spectrum of their relationship had changed…simply put, merely having sex with her was not enough. Things were different now, and though he hated the corniness associated with the term **_making love_** , he knew that's exactly what Carrie deserved from him, what they both deserved. But even with that understanding, Rick could not give her that right now. She was in no condition for sex, physically or mentally, and so he forced himself to resist the advance she soon made.

"Carrie, no," he whispered, catching her hand as she reached for the top of his sweatpants.

She abruptly pulled back from their kiss, and he could see the hurt and confusion that crossed her face. "What?"

"Just not now," he told her, trying to soften the blow with another tender kiss. "Not like this."

It seemed his kiss was not enough, and he could feel her heart rate speeding up, her torso beginning to shake a little. Ignoring him, she clumsily slipped her hand under his shirt, spreading her fingers across his skin.

"Carrie, no," he said firmly, removing her hand. Shifting further onto his side, he tried to give her a little more of what she wanted, and he caressed her jaw as he kissed her again, trying to convey everything he felt with just that motion.

"Why?" she asked again, her voice hoarse as her lip trembled. "I need you, Rick."

"I know," he told her, looking her in the eye. "I know you do, and I'm here…I'm staying until you fall asleep, okay?"

For a moment it looked like she was going to argue with him, to vehemently insist that he give her what she wanted, but she quickly crumbled. Closing she tried to hold her breath as a low sob escaped her lips, her emotions becoming too much to hold back. "I can still hear them," she managed to say, her words muffled as she tried to hide her face from him. "I can see them…I just want them to go away."

Understanding what she referred to, he kissed her forehead and began to reassure her. "It will, I promise," he said softly. "I promise, it will go away."

Entwining his arms around her, he didn't try to stop her tears, knowing they needed to fall. He held her tenderly, his hands stroking her upper arm and lips pressed against her forehead as he repeatedly whispered that he loved her. Crying, her body shook with emotion, her one good hand clinging to his shirt, a silent gesture that he was doing the right thing, that he absolutely should not leave. Despite this, he knew what the next step ought to be, what she needed even if she didn't know it herself. He kissed her forehead and apologised as he got up, his sudden departure making her raise her head and look at him. Assuring her that he wasn't leaving yet, he rounded the bed and looked at her nightstand, studying the small notepad that bore Carol's handwritten notes on what medication Carrie had taken. Immensely grateful for what Carol had done for her, he helped Carrie sit up and then broke two pills from the blister pack.

"Two Tylenol," he said, holding the two little pills out for her to take.

She followed his instructions without request, her cheeks reddening and her eyes averted when he passed her the glass of water from her nightstand. "Sorry," she mumbled hoarsely.

"Don't be sorry," he said shortly, removing the lid from an orange prescription bottle and handing her the lone pill Pete had dispensed. "Take the Valium too. Unless you plan on operating heavy machinery."

She gave a small laugh at this, wincing as it strained her injuries, but nevertheless a brief smile crossed her face. As Rick held the lone pill out to her she looked at it for a long moment, and then finally she took it, slipping it into her mouth and then chasing it with some water. Almost as if she didn't know what to do now Carrie stayed as she was, laying down again only when he prompted her to do so. He bustled around for a few moments, setting her book aside and pulling up the comforter as he helped her get comfortable. Once she was resting with her broken wrist laid out on a pillow he turned off the main light and lay down behind her, carefully putting his arm around her waist and letting her move back into his chest. Though he wanted to fall asleep next to her Rick forced himself to stay awake instead, keeping his mind occupied by listening to the way her tears of grief slowly settled and began to ease.

Twenty minutes later she was fast asleep in his arms. He felt at peace and wanted the moment to last, but he eventually had to leave, knowing that if Carl awoke and found him gone, there would be questions. But even as that particular thought occurred, Rick did not feel the usual dread he associated with it. Instead, he felt a small flicker of hope. It wouldn't happen just yet, the deaths of Aidan and Noah were too raw, but as soon as things had settled down, as soon as he and Carrie had time to regroup with one another and discuss things a little, it would be time to tell Carl. It could go a few different ways, Rick knowing that on some level there was going to be a poor reaction from his son…knowing him well though, he suspected that the bad reaction would be less to do with Rick starting a new relationship, and more to do with his long delay in sharing the news. Nevertheless, he felt hopeful for the future.

Kissing Carrie on the forehead and whispering again that he loved her, he carefully extracted himself from around her. She stirred only a little, her shoulders hunching until he lifted the blankets up further. Making sure she was warm enough, he walked around her bed and into her bathroom, turning on the light and then pulling the door almost closed. The lamp on the nightstand was particularly bright, and if she roused at all it would probably awaken her properly. The dim light from the bathroom however would be exactly what she needed. Awakening in the middle of the night with a plaster cast on her arm would be disconcerting, and he was confident that the bathroom light would be enough to reassure her of her surroundings, but not too much to awaken her.

Double checking that her broken wrist was elevated and comfortable on the pillow, he stroked her hair and kissed her cheek before leaving. Hoping that she slept through the night, he slowly made his way back to his own bedroom, wishing he could have stayed with her. Instead he returned to his children, knowing that although Carrie needed him, so did Carl. He went about his usual evening routine in silence, looking at his face in the mirror while he brushed his teeth and wondering when he had started to look so old…today had certainly pushed him. Washing his face with cold water, he braced himself before returning to his bedroom, dreading the idea of trying to sleep. Just like Carrie, he too could still see and hear every death he had been witness to, his imagination kindly crafting imagery of the ones he hadn't. He'd lied to her when he promised that it would go away, and surely she must have known he was lying…it never went away, you just eventually learned to live with it.

Returning to the bedroom he gently pried Carl's fingers off the cover of the book, slipping the bookmark between the pages and setting it aside, not surprised when he roused. Not completely asleep in the first place, his eyes flickered open, grunting in confusion and reaching in midair for his book. Quickly catching up, he gave a long sigh and then rubbed his eyes, looking up at Rick.

"Thanks, Dad," he muttered, still rubbing his eyes.

Carl turned onto his side, his arms curling up and around his pillow. Rick could always tell how stressed Carl was by the way he slept. When things were fine he slept peacefully on his back, and when things were not fine he slept on his side, his arms and legs often unconsciously reaching across the bed towards his father. Taking note of this, Rick wearily sat down on the edge of the bed beside his son, taking his hand and watching as his eyes opened to look at him in confusion. There was a few moments of silence as they looked at each other, and when Rick leant down and kissed his forehead Carl let him. Taking full advantage of the opportunity, one that would become less frequent as puberty progressed, Rick held him tightly and breathed him in, grateful that after everything he'd been through, he hadn't been robbed of his children.

"I love you," he whispered to him, sitting up and brushing Carl's too long hair away from his face.

"I know," Carl nodded, the innocence of this remark making Rick smile. Carl had absolutely no idea how much he was loved…he wouldn't understand it until he had his own children. "Love you too, Dad."

Though most agreed that Carl took after him, particularly as he grew older, in that moment Rick could see his late wife staring up at him through his blue eyes. As it was occasionally, the resemblance to Lori was painful to recognise.

"Try to get some sleep," he requested, letting go of his hand and getting up.

Though Carl nodded, by the time Rick made it around to his own side of the bed, he had turned over to face him. "Dad?" he started tentatively, his tone indicating he was about to make a request. "Can we bring Judy in with us? Just for tonight," he added, seeing his father's hesitation.

Considering the request, Rick looked over into Judith's crib, heartily agreeing with Carl's request that they have her sleep between them. Though he grumbled each morning when he brought her into the bed, that was less to do with her presence and more to do with the fact he had to get up to do it. Heeding Carl's request, he pulled back the bed covers and moved their pillows out of the way, making sure Judith would have enough room to herself. Thanking whoever had put a king sized bed in the master bedroom, he gently scooped his daughter out of her crib and laid her into the bed, watching the way she wriggled around, her hands reaching for something. Recognising her cues, he quickly followed up with her stuffed duck and then her pacifier, seeing her mouth open and closing in search of it. Having everything she wanted, Judith immediately settled back down as though nothing had happened, allowing Rick to slip into the bed alongside her.

Before he turned off his lamp, he caught a glimpse of Carl's face, seeing the sadness he felt. He and Noah had grown closer after their arrival in Alexandria, and it was clear that Carl somewhat looked up to him, a benefit of their five year age difference. And yet while Noah went on supply runs as Carl went to school, an easy going friendship had developed, one which Rick approved of more than the one with Ron and Mikey. Noah's loss, sudden and violent in nature, was going to take its toll on Carl's spirit. That afternoon when he'd finally managed to take care of his duties regarding the Monroes, and then Glenn and Carrie, Rick had returned home to take care of his next duty, Carl.

Michonne had delivered him the news when they got back, telling him as gently as she could. By the time Rick got home, Carl was somehow managing to hold himself together, but he was angry and confrontational. It was a short while before he realised that his son was trying to hold himself together because Rick was, that this was yet another moment when Carl unconsciously looked to him for guidance on how to behave, on what was acceptable. As he yelled and swore about what Nicholas had done, Rick felt like he was looking into a mirror, realising that he'd accidentally been teaching his son that it was not alright to show emotion other than anger and outrage. Needing to remedy that, Rick had done the first thing that came to mind, simply telling Carl to stop shouting, and then embracing him. In the middle of the kitchen they stood there in silence, Carl's arms tight around his waist, the front of Rick's shirt growing damp with quiet tears of grief.

In the silence and darkness of the night, Carl took advantage of Rick not being able to see him. "I wish Nicholas was dead," he confessed lowly. "Not Noah."

With a short sigh, Rick knew what Carl was trying to tell him. Recalling a conversation they'd had almost two months ago on the morning of Judith's birthday, he remembered Carl telling him that he still harboured dark thoughts, the kind that he didn't know what to do with, how to handle. He felt ashamed of them, guilty for the way his mind needed to work through the trauma he experienced. With what Carl had just said to him, Rick knew he was still struggling with this. Reaching out in the darkness, he found Carl's hand and squeezed it, warming his fingers.

"Me too."

* * *

It was with a great sense of dread that Rick arose the next morning and got dressed, preparing himself for the necessary supply run into the city of Washington. They had to retrieve what was left of Aidan and Noah's bodies, and when he pictured what the task would entail, he smartly decided to forgo having breakfast. The group of choice piled into two cars, Rick and Sasha taking the van that had been used yesterday, while Abraham, Heath, Scott and Annie took the minivan. As dawn broke over Alexandria they departed and returned to the city none of the six occupants needed to discuss their plans…in fact, Rick was pretty sure they were riding in complete silence. Their task didn't exactly foster an enjoyable conversation. In the end, it really was as simple as their plans made it out to be. With one vehicle taking the front and one taking the back, they opened the respective doors to the warehouse and then hit the music, and five minutes was all it took to draw the remaining Walkers out and take them down. They regrouped and went inside together, taking caution despite the apparent emptiness of the warehouse.

Rick was never going to forget the things he had to see that day…the sight of Aidan's corpse impaled on the forklift, barely anything of him left, was burnt onto his retinas. Then there was Noah, whose corpse was so ravaged there was little left other than bones, some scraps of clothing and a little flesh. The rest of him was either consumed or smeared across the floor of the otherwise pleasantly decorated atrium. Trying to completely disassociate from what they were doing, Rick and the others simply pulled on some sterile gloves and then laid out the sheet they had brought with them. Starting with Aidan, the more difficult of the two, they simply laid out what they could recover on the sheet, wrapped him up and then carefully laid him into the body bag. Rick's group did the bulk of the work, taking sympathy on the others who simply weren't accustomed to this level of gore. So while Scott, Heath and Annie lost their breakfast while they stood on watch, Rick, Sasha and Abraham simply completed the task as quickly as they could.

"No one tells Deanna and Reg," Rick warned them all, having just put his knife through the back of Aidan's neck when they found he had reanimated. "Is that clear? Their son did not turn."

He really didn't need to say it in the first place, but everyone nodded in understanding, Rick's request only adding to the burden of the task they were completing. They finished up with Aidan, moved his body to the back of the van and then started on Noah…it was not an exaggeration to say they were scraping him off the floor, and as this thought came over him, so too did a wave of unstoppable nausea. Standing over the dead potted ficus which he had been dry heaving into, Rick thought of Beth again, still feeling like he had failed her.

With the two bodies retrieved, they stayed only long enough to take another box of micro inverters, planning for the future possibility of more power failures and corroded connections. As they finished up and left through the rear door, Rick slowed down and took his flashlight out, observing the marks on the floor. The place was a mess thanks to the explosion, but he could clearly make out a long drag mark that cut through the blood and debris, most likely coming from Carrie dragging Tara out to the van. Observing the marks a little more closely, he could make out where Carrie had slipped over, a hand print about her size indicating that she had pushed herself up, foot prints demonstrating her struggle. Watching it playing out in his mind's eye, he was amazed by Carrie's perseverance, by her determination to not leave Tara behind.

Returning home, they brought the bodies into Gabriel's makeshift church and laid them out, though they made a point of leaving them in the body bags for now. Two graves would be dug in Alexandria's cemetery, and a funeral would be held that afternoon. As he left, Rick avoided looking up at the Monroe townhouse as he passed it by, almost if a death in the family was contagious, something he could acquire through association. Trying to go about his normal day, he checked in with those on watch, reviewed some of the security footage, and then went outside to make his rounds. The fresh air and open space helped him clear his head, helped him temporarily rid himself of what he could see going on in his head. It was no small wonder that Glenn and Carrie had suffered such extreme reactions to what Nicholas had done, particularly given the horrible deaths they had seen occurring before their eyes. Rick had only seen the aftermath, and still after everything he'd been through, those images would resonate for some time.

Before returning home, he stopped in at the infirmary to see Tara, glad to find that it was Rosita sitting with her, Pete having gone home after spending the night. Saddened to see Tara's eyes still closed, Rick took a seat beside her and put his feet up on the opposite chair, relieved he had remembered to clean the blood off the bottom off his boots. With Rosita not trying to engage him in small talk he sat quietly with Tara for some time, reflecting on the young woman he'd first met when the Governor had rocked up at the prison gates, the reluctant solider who had no idea what she had gotten herself into. It still amazed him how easily he had forgiven her, how he'd welcomed her into his family after what she helped do…he supposed Glenn and Maggie had something to do with that. He couldn't help but wonder if he had the capacity to forgive like that anymore, and whether or not it was a good thing.

Looking at Tara sadly, Rick felt sick to his stomach. Only yesterday he had made a point of telling Pete that he was replaceable now, that Alexandria didn't need him as a doctor. It had been a clear threat, one that indicated Pete shouldn't taunt Rick when it came to his kids and Carrie. But as if to prove his own worth, Pete had quite possibly saved Tara's life yesterday, for there was no real way of knowing if she would have the same outcome with only Denise as her doctor. Pete had proven how much he was actually needed.

"Did Carrie and Glenn come by to see Pete today?"

Rosita nodded. "They came by first thing this morning," she answered, glancing at Rick when she continued. "Carol brought Carrie."

It seemed Rosita shared his relief for this, for the whole group knew that Carol hadn't quite yet accepted Carrie as one of their own. The simple act of caring for her after yesterday's events indicated that had changed. Not commenting further, Rick looked around at the whiteboard near Tara's bed, reading the treatment and procedure for handling seizure. "Why do you need that?" he asked in concern, gesturing to it.

Rosita's face fell, and she looked back at Tara. "She had a seizure during the night."

"Shit," he swore under his breath. "What's her…prognosis?"

Hesitating, Rosita sighed. "We're keeping her sedated for now." Thinking out loud, she stood open and opened Tara's eyelids, shining a flashlight into each of them. "Hey pupils are still responding to light, so the pressure in her head is staying down. Pete's optimistic." Resuming her seat and noting down her observations, she gave a long sigh. "You know…the others and I were talking last night."

"About?"

"Spaghetti Tuesday."

Rick met her gaze, torn between exasperation and annoyance. "Seriously?"

"It would be for Noah. He liked Spaghetti Tuesday."

Rick rubbed his hand over his face and nodded. "Yeah, alright."

"I can cook, if you want a break."

"Something wrong with my spaghetti?" he challenged, looking back up at her with a wry smile.

"Just being nice," she rolled her eyes and then muttered something under her breath in Spanish.

"Okay, spaghetti for thirteen…shit…" he trailed off, realising he had misspoken. They were one less now…two less, counting Tara. "Eleven."

"Make it twelve," Rosita corrected. "Eric. You always forget to count Eric."

He shrugged. "It's not intentional…I'll tell him to make some garlic bread."

"Which house we eating at?"

"Mine. There's more room."

"We'll bring the booze…we'll need it."

It felt strange to be talking about dinner plans while they sat beside Tara's unconscious form, while Spencer and Abraham were digging graves for their respective losses, and yet it also felt necessary. Noah had always been a vocal advocate of Spaghetti Tuesdays, his youthful enthusiasm always helping those suffering from a difficult day. Their lives had to continue…that was something they'd each slowly come to learn and accept with each passing death. Mentally running through the change of plans, knowing he'd need to prepare the meal before the funerals that afternoon, Rick kissed the back of Tara's hand and then tucked it under her blanket. He returned home and relieved Carol of baby sitting duties, knowing that she wanted to be out and about in the rest of the community, checking in with people and updating them on the plans for the funerals. There was a prayer group scheduled for later than morning too, and whether or not Carol had faith anymore, Rick knew she'd be there.

Checking in with Carl, Rick resisted the urge to check in with Carrie too, and instead buried himself in a task. Going about his usual routine for a Wednesday, although one day late, he set out the ingredients he would need and began preparing what was perhaps the only full meal he knew how to. Having lived off pasta in his bachelor days during college, Rick and Shane had long ago refined the art of Spaghetti Bolognese, and to this day it was the only thing other than a BBQ or breakfast that he confidently knew how to prepare. The task of handling Spaghetti Tuesday had fallen to him upon their arrival in Alexandria, and given it was about the only household chore he found himself doing, he did it without complaint. It did however require a little more creativity than he was used to, given their lack of beef, or most meat for that matter. Nevertheless, with Daryl always leaving the freezers full of meat before he left recruiting, and the occasional animal that Sasha and Carl caught when they went hunting, a ration of minced meat was spared for the Grimes households each week. So long as they didn't ask what exactly it was they were eating, no one complained too much.

Listening to Judith babbling away to herself as she wandered in and out of the kitchen, he caught the sound of movement upstairs, instinctually attuned to pick up any change in his environment. A few minutes later he heard footfall across the landing and then slowly coming down the stairs, and he didn't need to look up to know who it was coming.

"Good morning," he said as Carrie entered the living area.

"Hey," Carrie said softly, entering the living area and pausing in surprise when she saw what he was doing. "Let me guess…for Noah?"

Rick nodded, opening some tinned tomatoes and tipping them into the large pot with the other ingredients. His eyes automatically looking, he checked on Judith in the living room, having grown worried when she was quiet all of a sudden. A quiet toddler often meant trouble. Finding her happily turning the pages of one of her books before leaning down to lick it he let her be, turning his attention back to Carrie. It was difficult to see past her injuries, to not look at them. Her broken wrist was safely enclosed in a plain white cast, but it was the myriad of small bumps and scrapes that drew his attention most, the minor injuries easily visible thanks to her plain tank top. When she gave him a tentative smile, all Rick could see was the swollen bruise on her cheek bone and the blood in her inner eye.

"Should I pour you some coffee?" he offered, realising she had noticed him staring.

"No, thanks. I got it," she said, glancing at his mug as she headed for the pot. "You need a top up?"

"Please."

There was a comfortable silence as Carrie took out a clean mug and then poured herself a cup of coffee, the use of her left hand forcing her to go slowly. Joining him at the island bench she topped up his mug for him, her elbow brushing his as she did so, but he suspected this wasn't intentional. Returning the pot to the cradle she slowly made her way around to the other side and then took a seat on one of the stools, allowing Rick to take a good look at her while he began grating carrot to go in the pot. Her movements were slow and well thought out, her body sore and suffering the effects of the explosion, of being thrown back against the shelves. The warehouse had been an absolute mess, and he hated to think that people he loved had been caught up in that. They were lucky to have survived it.

"Have you taken something for the pain?" he asked in concern.

Judging by her expression she had been awaiting this question. She nodded, the corners of her mouth twitching as she held back a smile.

"Have you eaten?"

Again, she nodded. "She's been taking care of me," she remarked, and this time she smiled. "Even helped me get dressed."

Rick raised his eyebrows at this, having not expected that a tank top and sweatpants would require much help, even with only one hand.

"The clasp on my bra," she explained.

"Right," he nodded, turning back to the celery he was chopping into small pieces. Another day he would have smiled and told her to forgo the bra, but today such a flirtatious remark was not called for. "I'm glad she's been taking care of you."

"She's been great…everyone has," she stated, her tone making him look up at her.

She held his gaze, the intensity of it making him think she was about to say something else, and he suspected that it was about last night. What had been said was a big deal, but the spark of self-doubt that would always linger made Rick wonder if she regretted what she said, if perhaps she was going to take it back. Her serious tone indicated that perhaps she might, but they were interrupted before she could say anything. Footsteps on the staircase echoed down to them, the type of heavy and obnoxious footfall that could only belong to a teenager.

"Hey," Carl said, entering the living area, some comic books tucked under his arm. Looking at the celery Rick was chopping, his eyes narrowed. "You're not putting that in the spaghetti, are you?" he asked apprehensively. Though Carl was well accustomed to eating what he was given, and hadn't turned down the celery noodle casserole Carol had once served him, he seemed to have something against celery itself. Perhaps it was too healthy for him to willingly eat it.

"No," Rick assured him, amused by the look of relief on his face. "Carol wanted this for a soup or something."

"Good," he sighed gratefully. "I'm going to see Tara."

"Be home by four," Rick requested. "The service is at five."

Carl seemed pleasantly surprised by this, for although he didn't have to ask permission to spend the day how he pleased, normally he had to check in and let Rick know where he was, an after effect of the chaotic collapse of the prison. The request that he merely be home by a certain time gave him carte blanche to do as he pleased without checking in, a freedom Rick was happy to allow him, particularly that day. With Noah's sudden death Carl had a lot to start working through…he didn't need to be constantly updating his dad on where he was. As Carl kissed his sister good bye and then left, Rick turned back to the celery. Using his hands to scoop up what he had chopped, he promptly dumped it in the pot of Bolognese.

Carrie laughed in amusement, a sound Rick enjoyed hearing. "I thought you said no celery?"

He just shrugged. "Carl's been eating celery in Bolognese since the day I started making it, and he has no idea."

Carrie laughed again, shaking her head to herself as she reached out and stole a piece of celery from the chopping board. Glad to see her appetite had returned, for she hadn't eaten the previous night, Rick didn't tell her off like he normally might. Their comfortable silence resumed, punctuated only by the sound of Judith babbling to herself, pushing one of her balls around and then chasing after it.

"Rick," Carrie began, making him look up at her. "Thank you for last night."

He nodded, feeling his pulse speed up a little. "You're welcome," he said sincerely. Looking her in the eye, he forced himself to say what he needed to, to bring up what had been discussed. "I meant what I said…that I love you."

A smile graced her face, albeit a small one. "I meant what I said too."

Feeling the moment call for it, Rick set aside his knife and then quickly rinsed and dried his hands. Moving around to the other side of the bench, he gently slid his hand around the side of her neck, tilting her head so that she looked up at him. Exalting in the knowledge that everything felt so right, he leant down and kissed her, hoping to share his happiness with her. Their kiss was tender, his lips moving softly over hers as they reconnected with one another, remembering the way everything had changed last night.

"What now?" she asked when they broke apart.

Understanding the intention of her question, Rick took a moment of pause, to think and make sure he found the right words. "We get through today," he said, thinking of the funeral for Aidan and Noah. "Then we…try."

"Try what?" she pressed.

He gave a short sigh, realising she was going to make him lay all his cards on the table first. "Us. A relationship…if that's what you want."

"It is," she said without hesitation, taking his hand. "That's what I want."

"Me t-" he started, being cut off by Judith. She had strolled over to him, babbling to get his attention and then holding out that god damned book, Pat the Bunny. "Later. In five minutes," he told her firmly. "In five minutes."

Knowing he could drag out the five minutes for up to an hour, he watched her shoulders slump as she turned around and slowly went back into the living room. Trying once more she hopefully turned back and showed him the book again, her eyes narrowing when he told her she had to wait. Exasperated, but knowing she would wait for him, he turned back to Carrie, needing to tell her everything while he had the opportunity, before the moment was gone.

"Carrie," he began, unsure exactly of where he was going with this. "I should have told you all this along time ago."

To his surprise, she actually laughed, her eyes crinkling before she flinched a little, aggravating the injuries on her face. "Me too," she admitted. "Why didn't you say anything?"

"Because I was a coward," he told her honestly, stroking her hair behind her ear, enjoying the way it felt beneath his fingers. "I was worried about changing things, about ruining what we already had."

"Yeah," she agreed. Reaching out, she took his hand and entwined their fingers. "Same. I guess I knew that I wanted more, but I didn't know if you that too. With Lori, and your kids…I didn't know if you'd be ready for it."

Feeling the need to be honest, Rick braced himself before he spoke next. "Honestly? I don't know for sure that I am," he told her, glad when he didn't see disappointment or apprehension cross her face. "But I'm willing to work for it…for you."

"Thank you."

Having said what they needed to say, he leant down and kissed her again, enjoying the newfound understanding they had reached. It was filled with some level of uncertainty, neither of them entirely sure where this new stage of their relationship was going to take them, but both willing to find out for the sake of one another. Just like last night, their kiss had a different feel about it, for although Rick still felt their usual passion and attraction, he felt something more too, something he'd been longing to welcome and acknowledge. They broke apart a few moments later, and just as he was about to speak, to repeat that he loved her, he noticed her frowning at something behind him.

"Rick…" she whispered. "She's still standing there."

Turning around, he found Judith standing exactly where he had left her, her favourite picture book still firmly in her grasp. Her stance and patient expression indicated that she was going to wait right there for him to finish with whatever he was doing, and he cursed just how like her mother she was becoming. Sweet and lovely most of the time, Judith's desire for independence and choice had begun to flourish the moment she started walking properly. She knew exactly what she wanted, and though she didn't always get it, she was willing to wait for it. Giving a long sigh, Rick looked back at the kitchen, seeing all the ingredients he had yet to prepare, and then back at Carrie, seeing something else he very much wanted to indulge in.

"Judy Pie," he sighed, looking around at her. "You have to wait. Five minutes."

"Rick, it's okay," Carrie began. "I-"

"She'll wait," he assured her, and indeed a moment later Judith gave a long sigh and turned away, heading back to her toys and tossing her book aside. "See? She's fine."

"Okay," Carrie nodded, watching Judith go.

There was an awkward pause, both of them wondering how to recover the moment they had lost, Rick cursing Judith's interruption. "What are your plans for the rest of the day?"

"I want to see Tara again," she answered solemnly. "I need to remind her about Spaghetti Tuesday."

Rick smiled at this. "She knows the rules. If she misses dinner, there're no left overs."

"I'll be sure to tell her that." Picking up her mug she drank the last of her coffee and then pushed it towards the sink. "I should go now, I think Rosita's expecting me about now."

Not wanting to let her go, Rick indulged himself and kissed her, wishing she could stay a while more, that she didn't need to go. Just like before, their kiss was restrained and gentle, trying to show one another how they felt, to reinforce it. Longingly thinking of when she'd recover, both physically and mentally, he couldn't help but think about being with her again, how much he was restraining himself from his desire for her. Soon, things would be different, and when they had told Carl and the news had settled in for everyone, they wouldn't have to hide their affection for one another. As this thought occurred to him, Rick gently broke their kiss, delaying her departure by bringing up the next point they needed to discuss. Though it wasn't a sensitive subject, it was an important one.

"I want to tell Carl," he said seriously. "About us."

She nodded in agreement, matching his tone. "I think that's a good idea." She moved her hand around in his grasp, entwining their fingers and rubbing her thumb across the back of his. "When?"

"Not yet, but soon," he told her, thinking out loud. "We need to…we need to let everything settle down a couple of days, maybe a week. I don't want to pile too much shit on him at once, there's only so much I want him trying to deal with at a time."

"How do you think he'll take it?"

Considering this, Rick sighed to himself. "I think he'll take it okay. We'll need to explain why we didn't tell him months ago. That…"

"That it only became serious recently," she supplied. "That we've been figuring it out."

"Yes," he agreed, laughing shortly. "We just took our damn time about it."

"That we did…I'll follow your lead on when to tell him. Until then," she began to conclude, looking disappointed. "I should probably go."

Taking one last kiss, he deepened it a little and brushed his tongue over her lip, enjoying the soft sound she made in the back of her throat. Returning his kiss for just a moment she sighed before putting her head against his shoulder, her good arm reaching around his waist. Grateful for each moment he got to keep her, he slowly returned the gesture, his arms around her gentle than hers, not wanting to aggravate any injuries. A few peaceful moments passed as they stood there and held each other, still absorbing the impact of what had happened the previous day, of the understanding they'd reached the previous evening.

"Thank you, again," she said, letting him go and looking at him.

Kissing her on the cheek, he stepped back from her before he tried to hang on even longer. He ignored her gratitude. "I love you," he reminded her, the words easy to say.

She smiled, and he could tell what they meant for her to hear. "I won't get tired of hearing that," she remarked, slowly walking backwards towards the door. "Love you too."

"Go," he told her, seeing her hesitate. "Annoy Tara and wake her up."

Nodding, Carrie reluctantly turned on her heel and left. "I'll see you later."

Standing in the kitchen he watched as Carrie walked up the street and then disappeared from sight, resisting the urge to go out on the porch and watch her all the way to the Infirmary. It was with reluctance that he picked up the knife and continued preparing the ingredients for the spaghetti, simply going through the motions. So much had happened, both to the community and his group…to Carrie, and he didn't know which problem to deal with first. Aidan and Noah? Nicholas? Carl's grief? Carrie's? What about his own?

It wasn't long before Rick found himself standing motionless at the kitchen, the knife in his hand still. It wasn't even a conscious decision when he put the knife down, but a short while later he was topping up his coffee and heading into the living room. Setting the mug onto the coffee table he picked up Judith's book and then got her attention, rejoicing in the look of delight she gave upon seeing him with it. She raced over and let him pick her up, happily settling into his lap and resting her head back against his shoulder. Having waited patiently, she finally got what she wanted, and in some respects, so had Rick too.

"You're lucky I love you," he told her as he opened to the first page. "Pat the God damn Bunny…"

* * *

A/N (Takes a bow...) You're welcome!

No seriously, thanks to my readers and reviewers for hanging in there, I hope this moment was satisfying in all the right ways. Thanks for hanging in there guys!


	31. Chapter 31

A/N Happy Tuesday everyone! I was meant to post two chapters last week just to help speed things along, but alas I completely forgot! So instead of my usual update on Thursday, here is Chapter 31 a little early, and Chapter 32 should be out by around this time Sunday. Enjoy ridiculously.

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Leaving the front door open, Carrie stepped out onto the front porch with a sigh of relief, enjoying the fresh air after being inside for most of the afternoon. Glancing over her shoulder at the person she had left bustling around in the kitchen, she took a slow, deep breath to steady herself, and then made her way over to the sitting area. It was with a mixture of nerves and happiness that she sat down on the love seat, relaxing back into the soft, welcoming cushions as she looked out across the gardens. This afternoon was going to be a big moment, one that had to go well…it had to.

Sitting back and waiting patiently for her company to join her, she began to reflect on the week that had passed, the days having slipped by so quickly it felt like she was sleep walking her way through them. The first day after Aidan and Noah's deaths had been the hardest, for despite the mutual understanding she and Rick had reached about their relationship, she couldn't let her happiness of that show. Both physically and mentally exhausted, Carrie had spent most of the day sitting by Tara's bedside, others from their household also spending their time in the Infirmary with her. Though it hadn't been said out loud, Pete seemed to have drawn the conclusion that a concept such as visiting hours did not apply to Tara. So long as they were reasonably quiet, he hadn't protested the large number of people who occupied his Infirmary throughout the day and night.

Aidan and Noah's remains had been laid to rest the day after their death, the sky darkening and light rain falling as the service commenced. The entire community crowded into the small cemetery, Gabriel reading passages and speaking of love and friendship, not that Carrie had listened much to the words he had to say. It was difficult to concentrate on the service when the cause of their pain was barely ten yards from her, Nicholas' presence made all the worse by the fact that she couldn't do anything about it. He, Paula and Mikey stood near the front, his head bowed and his eyes averted from the whispers and stares directed his way. Presently most of the community had their wires crossed about exactly what Nicholas had done, misbelieving that he had not only caused Noah's death, but that he had caused Aidan's too. Carrie had heard whispers to this effect, hushed conversations from those who thought she wasn't listening. She knew that Aidan's death had been unpreventable, that if Glenn had tried and failed then there was nothing that could be done….despite this she didn't correct any of the false rumours that Nicholas had caused Aidan's death. She wouldn't waste even her breath on Nicholas anymore, though that had been an understanding she struggled to come to. The moment she saw him among the grieving she'd been infuriated, unable to believe that he had the nerve to come to the funeral of a person he had killed. The vicious truth she had shared yesterday was on the tip of her tongue again, the demand that he leave ready to be shouted, but she never got to voice it. Just as she had drawn breath she was inevitably stopped by those around her.

"Don't," Carol said gently, noticing where her attention was directly. Having been by Carrie's side most of the last twenty four hours, Carol's support seemed to be unwavering until this moment.

"He shouldn't be here," she said shortly, still looking at him.

"No, he shouldn't," Carol agreed, but continued nonetheless. "But today is not about him. It's about Aidan and Noah…and them."

Following Carol's indication Carrie looked properly, and it was only then that she saw Nicholas was standing with Deanna, Reg and Spencer, that he was in their company. He was there because Deanna wanted him to be, he was there for Aidan. The realisation that she couldn't make him leave only furthered her frustration, the lack of satisfaction making it harder for her to deal with everything happening. At Carol's insistence she finally looked away and tried to listen to Gabriel, gratefully taking a Kleenex and letting Carol supportively take her hand. It still felt odd to have Carol by her side, to have support coming from a woman who had up until recently made every effort to keep her at arm's length, but she sure as hell wasn't complaining. Following her confrontation with Nicholas, Carol had come to sit with her in the Infirmary, had held the ice pack against her face for her and held her hand until she took her home. In a uniquely unobtrusive way Carol had fussed over her well being, helping her dress the following morning and then insisting she eat. A part of Carrie wondered if Carl was doing this because Rick had asked her to, while the more pragmatic part of her understood that Carol wanted to, that something had changed between them. In a way what had happened on the supply run had allowed Carrie to prove herself in Carol's eyes, to demonstrate that she was worthy of being in Rick's group.

Despite Carol's insistence that she not, Carrie found herself constantly looking up at Nicholas throughout the funerals. He raised his head only a few times, and for the most part stood with his shoulder's hunched and his hand in Paula's, but Carrie kept watching him. Despite not being able to send him away, she took satisfaction in the realisation that Nicholas didn't want to be there either. He was there for Deanna, Reg and Spencer, because he was Aidan's friend and run partner for so long. What was satisfying was the fact that while she and Glenn were the subject of many whispers and sympathy, Nicholas was only the subject of rumours and mistrust. Perhaps his attendance today was the start of his punishment, of inevitably being shunned by the people he had provided for. With that possibility in mind, Carrie felt a small slither of vindication.

And then, it was over.

With the funeral's completed and the remains buried, the Monroe family retreated into their townhouse to grieve in private, and Nicholas retreated back into hiding for the near future. But it was what the rest of the Alexandria did that surprised Carrie most. The next day it was like the entire community closed down, everything being put on pause while they mourned Aidan and Noah's loss. The construction crew ceased work on the trenches outside, book club was postponed, school was cancelled…though Carrie understood the Alexandrian's need to mourn, their complacency frustrated her, and the rest of Rick's group too.

The ability to put life on hold in order to mourn was something from the old world, something that was not afforded to them these days, especially to an entire community. There was no time to sit around and do nothing, to not make progress on the walls or not be out checking the snares…and yet the Alexandrians seemed to think there was. Nevertheless, it hadn't been allowed to last for long. With an unspoken understanding, Sasha continued managing the watch posts, Carol turned up to her usual pantry duty shift, Carl collected the compost, and Rick and Michonne completed their usual rounds, clearing the impaled Walkers and checking on the pits. Even the construction crew got back to work a day early, Abraham rallying everyone back to work despite it being a Sunday…Carrie knew that something had happened to the construction crew the day of the failed supply run to the warehouse, and though she hadn't asked what, it seemed there had been an exchange in leadership between Abraham and Tobin.

As for supply runs? With two members of the run crew dead, two injured and one no longer welcome, that left Glenn, a one man run crew. Having broken her dominant wrist, Carrie was now almost useless with both a gun and a knife, meaning the only thing she could contribute would be to drive, and even that felt like something she would probably screw up. There were so many things that the run crew still needed to achieve too…there was the cabling for the fourth surveillance camera they still needed, an agricultural feed store on their radar, not to mention a few stores closer to the city that ought to yield some more summer clothing for the kids. Though she tried not to think about the supply runs, for she knew Heath, Annie and Scott had postponed their next departure to help, it was difficult to not feel like she was letting Glenn down by not being there, by not being able to back him up.

Despite the way everyone else in her group seemed to move seamlessly back into their usual routine, Carrie was the only one who couldn't resume her normal activities. Pete had been very thorough with his follow up checks for Glenn and Carrie, and though they got a general all clear from the doctor, they also got indisputable instructions that they was not the leave the walls for a few days. Though nothing near the severity of Tara's they'd both suffered blows to the head, and without the ability to properly assess them with a CT scanner, Pete seemed to be under the impression they could drop like stones at any second. So with that in mind, Carrie had been confined within Alexandria, not that she would have gone out anyway.

With her body still recovering from the explosion and the heavy cast on her arm, Carrie wouldn't have been able to protect herself, and she was unwilling to make her safety a burden for someone else to worry about. Aside from that, she admitted only to herself that her confidence had taken quite the blow, that a part of her wondered if she was up for this again, if she was even capable. So while she hadn't been able to venture outside the walls, she hadn't been able to make herself useful anywhere else either. She was of little help in the pantry, watch or the gardens, and she couldn't help the construction crew by taking watch, and so she was left in a state of limbo, feeling the need to do something useful, but unsure of what. It left her feeling completely out of place in her own community, but soon she came to realise exactly where she was needed…she should have seen it sooner.

Finding her required role, Carrie spent most of the first few days by Tara's bedside with the rest of the family, although she and Eugene were practically permanent fixtures. It was Friday night before Pete was confident enough to lower her sedation, and Saturday morning before she began to rouse properly. Letting her come around as slowly and gently as possible, they refrained from immediately telling her about Noah and Aidan. For over an hour Tara seemed to drift in and out of sleep, like a teenager reluctant to get out of bed. When she finally seemed to awaken a smile had crossed her face when she noticed who was by her bedside, but it quickly faded when she saw the state of Carrie's face and her broken wrist. She lay there for a few minutes and took it all in, and then everyone could see the moment understanding dawned on her. Figuring everything out, Tara looked around at those who were there and those who were not, knowing before they told her why Noah was absent. She closed her eyes, her lips pressed into a thin line as she raised her hand and rubbed her face.

"I missed Spaghetti Tuesday, didn't I?" she started weakly, trying to avoid the news for as long as possible.

"I'm afraid that's the case," Eugene said bluntly. "We kept you a plate…but I ate it."

"Asshole."

"As the evidence does indicate that I am an asshole, I have no scathing reply."

There was a short pause, Carrie looking over at Maggie and Glenn, hoping that they would handle this, that they would tell Tara the news. She didn't think she had it in herself to actually say the words, she didn't have the strength for it.

Still trying to delay the news, Tara looked at Carrie's broken wrist and wise cracked, "I hope that's not your dick hand."

Laughing more for Tara's benefit that amusement, Carrie held her hand and kissed the back of it, and it was then that Glenn told her. Like they had expected she seemed to take it well enough, having not had the time or opportunity to really come around to the events that had occurred. For the rest of the day she slept on and off for periods of time, and as the hours passed and Noah still did not turn up to visit her his death became a reality that could not be denied. Thankfully the days following passed quickly and Tara was released from Pete's care on Sunday evening, but rather than going home she went straight to Noah and Aidan's graves. Having wanted to wait for Tara, Carrie had not been back there since the funeral, and Tara's grief felt like the final piece of the puzzle that indicated it was all over. Until then it had still felt like the situation was ongoing, that it wasn't finished yet, but the night Tara came home a sense of conclusion was reached.

Monday had brought about change, and as though awakening from a long sleep, the whole community seemed to reboot their usual routine, with the Monroes and Nicholas being the exception. Things went back to normal relatively quickly, Carl even returning to school without being reminded. He'd simply turned up downstairs with his bag slung over his shoulder, his lack of protest taking Rick by surprise. Thinking back on this, Carrie knew that moment had been what allowed him to let his guard down a little, to mentally relax. Carl going back to school was a step in the right direction…a very good step. Tara slowly settled back in at home, still taking it easy while she adjusted to the deaths and allowed herself to grieve. It was then that the _visits_ began, with the Alexandrian's frequently stopping by to check on them, to offer comfort that was rejected as politely as possible. One hand Carrie resented the fact that they waited until the following week to begin making these visits, but on the other hand she understood. That was the culture around here…things happened very slowly.

The sound of footsteps was a welcome interruption from Carrie's thoughts, and she looked up at the front door with a small smile on her face. Even if he wasn't the only other person at home she would have recognised his unique gait, the nuances of his footfall having grown more and more familiar with time…no one else walked quite like him. She felt her worries ease as Rick appeared at the front door, his presence filling her with a new type of hope, the type she'd once believed she'd never experience again. He carried with him exactly what else she wanted to see, a mug of steaming hot green tea with the bag still in…and her favourite mug, no less.

"Thank you," she said, taking it by the handle when he passed it to her. Feeling the temperature, she realised he had added a little tap water too. Just like she was, Rick was perceptive of the little things.

"Don't get used to it," he quipped. He took a seat not in the rocking chair, his usual place with Judith of an evening, but on the two seater alongside Carrie. Removing the cap from a bottle of Yuengling, an unusual indulgence for him, he kicked back and put his feet on the table to get completely comfortable. With a sip of the beer and a long sigh, he relaxed.

Turning side on so that she could see him properly Carrie balanced her mug on her knee, using the fingers of her broken wrist to keep it steady while her other elbow rested on the top of the chair. She wanted to take the chance to admire him while she could. He wasn't paying attention, his eyes focused on the gardens across the road, possibly mapping out the next phase of the seedlings that were ready to be planted or worried about the wheat crop. Most of the plants they had removed from the prison gardens had settled well, some even having produced good amounts of food a few weeks ago. Despite having other things to attend to and plenty of help from the Alexandrians, Rick never failed to keep up with the vegetable gardens, a long standing practice that relaxed him.

Taking advantage of his inattention, she observed his facial features at leisure, always trying to commit them to memory. Her focus moved from his blue eyes down the length of his nose, taking in the shape of his lips, his jaw hidden behind stubble. Resisting the urge to reach out and touch it she looked at his facial hair for a moment, admiring the hint of salt and pepper colouring she could see whenever it was longer. Though he was at liberty to keep it however he liked she enjoyed seeing the way it changed his face, always watching and observing how long he went in between shaves.

"What?" he asked when he noticed he was the object of her attention. Looking at her affectionately, he took a well deserved sip of his beer while he waited for her answer.

"What?" she shrugged in return.

"What are you looking at?" he asked again, raising an eyebrow. A worried look suddenly crossed his face, and he raised his hand to the side of his neck. "You didn't leave a-"

"No," she laughed, knowing he was worried she had given him a hickey. She wouldn't do that…at least not where anyone could see it.

"Then why are you looking at me?"

Carrie just smiled, taking a sip her tea. It was strong just the way she liked it. "Can I not look at you?"

Seeing that she was playing with him, Rick just smiled and shook his head to himself. With a dramatic sigh he shifted closer to her, careful not to jostle her hot drink. Sliding his hand around her lower leg he leant over and kissed her, starting out sweetly and then deepening it. Smiling, she returned his kiss with equal fervour, getting a taste of the crisp, cool beer that lingered on his top lip and immediately wanting more.

"That tastes nice."

Rick nodded, pulling away so that he could look at her properly. "And that tastes like grass," he returned, gesturing to her tea. As he passed her his beer he looked at her drink as though it had insulted him. "How do you drink that?"

"It takes a well rounded palate to appreciate."

Sipping at the beer, she smiled again at the crisp taste, liking the way it felt in her mouth. Returning the bottle she kissed him again, making sure he got to taste what still lingered in her mouth. Unable to help themselves Rick moved closer again, his hand stroking the side of her neck, his fingers brushing through her hair as he held her. Feeling passion stirring inside her Carrie did her best to hold back, to not get them started on anything they couldn't finish. Besides, they both ought to be more than satiated by now, having finally been able to act on the desire they'd been putting aside.

Though they'd occasionally found time alone together over the last few days, they'd held back from doing anything about it. Regardless of how much she wanted Rick, how much she wanted to resume the more intimate aspects of their relationship, Carrie was still recovering from an explosive shock, her body sore and uncooperative. For the first few days even something as simple as climbing the stairs had made her very bones ache, and it hadn't been until she'd taken a long soak in the bathtub that she felt a change that indicated recovery. Utilising Rick's ensuite for the bath tub, she'd soaked her sore body in warm water and more bubbles than necessary, her right arm being the only part of her that saw no benefit. As she stretched out and relaxed her sore muscles, she mentally noted for future reference that the tub was more than big enough for two.

Feeling an overall improvement in her body she had made a point of telling Rick how much better she was feeling, knowing that her injuries had been one aspect of why he too was holding back from acting on his desires. But even after the dust had settled on the unexpected deaths and Carrie was feeling better, they still were not afforded much time together until that very day. While they had occupied their time well, the Grimes's group spent the weekend sticking close to home, wanting to help Tara settle in. Carl too had spent most of his time at home, quietly struggling through his own grief with Rick and Michonne intermittently by his side. While it was necessary for the two households to spend time simply being together, it hadn't exactly allowed for she and Rick to find time to be alone together.

When Carl went back to school on yesterday, they should have found the opportunity to be alone then, to reconnect properly and spend more than a few minutes with one another. But even though they'd been largely uninterrupted throughout the afternoon, Judith had been uncharacteristically grumpy, her short temper and Rick's refusal to meet her every demand not exactly setting the mood for intimacy. Instead they'd settled for simply being together, Carrie putting on a DVD that neither of them were really interested in, but that they watched nonetheless. It was nice sitting beside him on the couch as if they were a couple who did this all the time, despite the necessity of him being constantly distracted by Judith's demands. By the time he had successfully put her down to sleep, Carrie too had succumbed to her body's needs, falling asleep on the couch as she waited for Rick to come back downstairs.

They'd been denied further time together until today, the date marking not quite a week since Noah's death, since the meaning of their relationship had changed so deeply. Carl went to school again, and almost as if they'd been told to make themselves scarce, Carol and Michonne were nowhere to be found once Judith had been put down for her afternoon nap. With at least an hour before she woke up, more time than they'd had alone since the first night they'd slept together in Alexandria, Rick and Carrie had retreated to her bedroom, finally getting the opportunity to act on their desires. It had been exactly what she wanted, what they both needed. They'd taken their time with one another, not dictated by a short time frame and thus needing to rush through the motions.

Rick had always been the one with the most self-control, always the one content to savour the moment, a habit that had done them both well that afternoon. By the time they were both naked and he was reaching for a condom she was a sweaty hot mess, her hand shaking as she reached for him, pulling him down on top of her. When he finally entered her, his hips gently rocking as their lips met, Carrie's chest actually hurt as unexpected emotion welled up inside her. With everything finally out in the open, the love she felt for him was an intense reminder of how long she'd waited for this, and how much it meant to her, to both of them. Feeling her eyes welling up against her will, she buried her face in his shoulder as they made love, gasping out that she loved him and then hearing it in return.

Even when they'd finished, the two of them laying entwined as they caught their breath, Rick wasn't finished with her. Sitting up, he had nudged her to move onto her front, laughing when she only made it to her side before giving up. Helping her move the rest of the way and get comfortable with her broken wrist stretched out above her head, he'd gently started rubbing her back, having expressed this very desire the day before. She enjoyed the feeling of his hands moving over her skin, his gentle fingers massaging the top of her shoulders before moving onto the back of her neck and shoulders. He was careful with his touch, avoiding the areas of her body that he knew to be sore and bruised, his consideration making it all the much better. Enjoying it immensely, she had to physically stop herself from moaning too loudly, feeling her muscles relaxing as he slowly moved down her back, his thumbs rubbing along each side of her spine. By the time he'd reached her lower back, she didn't know whether she was more relaxed or aroused. Too relaxed to do much else, she simply pointed to her nightstand with a content sigh, hinting that he should grab another condom.

He'd taken her exactly as she lay before him, stretched out on her front, content to let him have her any way he wanted. When he lay on top of her his body felt like it completely encompassed hers, his embrace tight, but tender at the same time. He held her left hand in his own, his right reaching underneath her hips while he rocked against her, maintaining a slow but steady pace. It was astonishingly intense, and all she could see, smell, hear and feel was him all around her. It was completely overwhelming, both physically and emotionally, and she didn't know whether she needed to laugh or cry. She focused on rocking her hips back and forth, trying to do her part as a stream of nonsensical mumbling passed her lips. Hearing this, Rick had done the worst thing and slowed to a stop, his breaths heavy and his body shaking as he asked if she was okay.

"I'm alright," she managed to gasp, her hips jerking back to make him keep going. She turned her face into the pillow, feeling the need to hide her overly emotional reaction, to not show the intensity of what she felt for him. Not letting her do this, he let go of her hand and then gently coaxed her to turn back to him, refusing to move his hips until she did. Kissing her, he robbed her of whatever breath she had left before finally rocking his hips again, picking up right where he left off. Her whole body tensed when she came with a hoarse cry, one whose volume she couldn't stifle even if she tried, and it was Rick's name on her lips. Completely overcome he'd followed suit in much the same fashion, and when he finally stopped they stayed exactly as they were. With him trying to keep most of his weight off her, Carrie clutched at his hand to make him stay, welcoming the way he felt on top of her, the warmth of his breath against her neck and his skin against hers.

Not once did it occur to her that this was the very position in which Granger and his group had preferred to rape her, that holding her down in this manner had been their way of controlling and degrading her. But despite she and Rick engaging in much the same thing, Granger and the others hadn't crossed her mind they way they occasionally did. With Rick it wasn't just a position for sex, a means to an end. It was an embrace, it was his way of holding her close, almost as if he was trying to get more and more to her, that what he had wasn't enough. Despite everything, she'd never felt safer than when she was with him, she'd never felt more loved and revered, and she only hoped she could make him feel the same way in return. He deserved that from her, and she wanted to give that to him.

Though she really hadn't done much more than being there, Carrie was exhausted, her eyes closed and her limbs heavy when Rick got off her. Sleepy, but still needing to feel his body against hers, she hadn't allowed him to go far, thanking him with a kiss when he returned to her side. Imagining the goofy look that must be on her face she tried not to laugh at herself as she thanked him, and she looked him in the eye when she told him again that she loved him. She wouldn't tire of telling him that, and she got the feeling he felt the same way. They'd kissed languidly for some time, but then Carrie made the mistake that he normally did, believing that she could close her eyes for a few moments without falling asleep. When she'd awoken she was pleased to find him still beside her, though to her disappointment he was completely dressed. He sat on his unofficial side of the bed while he read the book he had lent her, reacquainting himself with the plot. Warm and comfortable, she noted that not only had he had thoughtfully covered her with the comforter, he'd gone to the effort of making sure her broken wrist had a soft pillow upon which to rest.

"What time is it?" she enquired, wondering how much longer she'd be able to spend with him, regardless of the clothing required.

"Almost half past three," he answered, quickly stopping her when she jerked in alarm. "It's fine, we've got time. Stacey doesn't let class out early."

"Okay," she breathed, glad to hear it. Snuggling back down, she closed her eyes. "Is Judy still asleep?"

"I took her next door. I've asked Maggie to watch her for us."

His reference to _us_ made her open her eyes, getting the feeling that he wasn't quite done, that he had something he needed to say.

"Maggie's got her," he repeated, sounding as though he was checking off a mental list. "Carol and Michonne will stay out for the rest of the afternoon, and Carl will be home at four."

"Okay?"

Closing the book, he looked her in the eye. "I want to tell Carl…today."

"Today?" she confirmed, trying to hide the alarm and panic she felt. "Like, in half an hour?"

"Yeah. I figure he's settled back into normal life…he's getting on with his friends again, he hasn't got too much on his plate. Now would be a good time."

"Alright," she muttered quietly, processing the news. She slowly sat up, rubbing the pillow marks from her face as she woke herself up properly.

"Would that be okay?" he asked, needing to be sure.

"Yes," she said vehemently. Kissing him on the cheek, she slowly got out of the bed. "If you think this is a good time, then I trust your judgement. We'll do it today…I am going to need a cup of tea though."

With that agreed, Rick seemed to breathe a massive sigh of relief, no doubt glad to get this secret off his chest, to be honest with his son. When she had gotten dressed again he quickly helped her tidy her bedroom, and as they helped one another make the bed Carrie knew this was something she could get used to. A simple chore like making the bed made bearable by the person helping on the other side. They shared one last kiss as they checked one another's hair, and then they returned downstairs, Rick insisting that she sit down on the porch while he made her tea.

That's what had brought them to the present, the new couple sitting side by side on the porch, enjoying the warm sun as they prepared to tell Carl the news. Definitely feeling as though they were in the honeymoon phase, they kissed at leisure, both of them looking forward to no longer having to hide their relationship. While she anticipated that a certain level of self-restraint from affection would be needed until Carl fully came around, at least they wouldn't have to hide. They'd be able to share an innocent kiss goodbye, the touch of a hand as they walked by past another.

"Rick," she scolded, breaking their kiss as his hand on her leg began to reach higher. Worried, she glanced up the street to look for Carl. "He'll be home any minute."

"Stacey doesn't let them out early," he insisted, stealing her lips once more but then finally showing some restraint.

Looking at her fondly, he sat back in the chair and held her gaze. Without breaking eye contact he took a sip of his beer, his fingers running through his hair to straighten it a little, prompting her to admire the curls. Taking note of the lighter strands that highlighted his otherwise dark hair, she let her attention wander down to his lips, resisting the urge to kiss him again when she found them wet from his drink. Clearing her throat, she looked away and drank her tea, but she lasted mere moments before looking back at him. He was still looking at her, a small smile on his face.

"What?" she asked self-consciously. "Why are you looking at me?"

He seemed surprised by this, but she could tell this had been his intention all along. "Can I not look at you?"

The very words she had spoken to him were now returned, Rick teasing her with them. Glancing at her watch, she took a deep breath and wondered how he could be so flirtatious at a time like this. It was edging closer and closer to four o'clock, and with Stacey always keeping the students right until the hour Carl usually raced out of the classroom in a bid for freedom. He could be home in minutes, finding his father and Carrie sitting on the front porch wanting to talk to him…it was going to happen any minute.

"Aren't you nervous?" she blurted out.

Rick held his smile for a moment longer, but then appeared to take sympathy on her. "Yes," he admitted.

His acknowledgement of this made her feel a little better, though she had known he would have to be. Carl's reaction to this would determine the course of their relationship, at least for the next few weeks anyway. While she was confident in some respects that Carl would be okay with things, in other respects, there was a reason she and Rick had been so secretive. Rick had told her that on the rare occasion that such a topic had been discussed between he and Carl, the teen's opinion of his father moving on with his life was less than supportive.

"What if…" she started nervously, trying to get her thoughts straight. "What if he hates me for this?"

"That's a possibility," he said under his breath.

Carrie sighed…he was not helping. "You're not meant to say that. You're meant to say, he'll be thrilled I'm banging his dad."

Looking at her seriously, Rick reached over and put his hand back on her leg, making sure her attention was on him. "You're not banging his dad…it's not like that."

"Well, not anymore," she conceded. "But for over two months it _was_ like that."

"I know. We just need to explain the difference, explain why we didn't tell him until now."

She nodded, letting out a slow breath and then taking a sip of her tea, needing to occupy her hands. "I just want this to go well for you," she said quietly. "I don't want our relationship to hurt the one you have with him."

"It won't," he said emphatically, trying to reassure her. "Carrie, I know my son. He's going to struggle with it, maybe for a while. He'll feel like I'm replacing his mom, that I'm just filling a vacancy, but he will be okay."

"I hope so."

"I can't put my life on hold forever. It might not happen straight away, but he will accept that."

There was a short pause now, both of them digesting what the other had said, letting the silence straighten out what was going through their heads. As she sat in thought, Carrie's eyes were drawn to Rick's left hand, watching as he engaged in a habit she suspected was unconscious. His left thumb was curled under his palm, and he restlessly turned his wedding ring around on his finger. She'd never given a second thought to his wedding ring, knowing that wearing it had been necessary to keep their relationship private thus far, but for the first time she felt a very small pang of jealousy. Would he take it off now? If he did, would it be for the right reasons, or because he thought she wanted him to? She thought back to what he had told her last week, his admission that he didn't know whether or not he was ready to move on, but that he was willing to try. With that in mind she wouldn't begrudge him continuing to wear it, but she suspected the pang of jealousy in the back of her mind wasn't going anywhere.

Casting her mind back to a month ago, she thought about something Carol had warned her about, for there was no way she couldn't think about it given what she and Rick were about to do. In no uncertain terms, Carol had warned her against not stringing Rick along, but more importantly against not getting in between he and his children. Yet that's exactly the risk she was taking now…if things went badly with Carl, her relationship with Rick would be the problem. The last thing Carrie wanted to do was cause a rift between Rick and Carl, but even as this thought occurred to her, she told herself to calm down. She had to trust Rick's judgement, to trust that he knew his son well, that he could handle this. Still, it was no wonder she was nervous.

"We should have a signal," she blurted out suddenly, making Rick visibly jump. "A way for you to tell me to get lost if you need to talk to Carl on your own."

Raising his eyebrows at her, Rick stifled a laugh. "Should I tap my nose?" he slowly suggested. "Pull my ear? Cough three times?"

"Rick…"

"How are you with morse code?"

She glared at him, even though she was grateful for him trying to be so lighthearted, to help balance her out. "I'm trying to be serious."

He seemed to just shake his head at her. Glancing over his shoulder to see if Carl was home yet, he took a long sip of his beer and relaxed again. "We don't need a signal. I expect that he will want to talk to me, just the two of us. We'll just get up and go for a walk. No morse code required."

Not that reassured, she ran her hand through her hair, pushing it behind her ear before squeezing the fingers of her right hand, the circulation a little slower given it's low use. "I just…I want this to go well for you," she said, repeating what she'd said before. Trying to remember any past experience she had of her friends whose parents had died or divorced, she gave a short laugh when she came up with a poor solution. "I wish I could buy him off, you know? Buy his approval."

Again, he shook his head at her in amusement. "You'd buy his approval?"

"Hell yes, piece of cake. Would he have preferred a Lamborghini or Ferrari?"

His eyes widened, and he looked at her in surprise. "He'll take an X-Box, but I'll take the Ferrari." He looked at her a moment longer, another small moment in which he got insight into her old life. "You could just go out and buy a Ferrari?"

Feeling embarrassed, she shrugged. "Well…I would lease it."

"Shit," he swore under his breath, clearly envious. "A Ferrari…you ever drive one?"

She nodded her head.

"Was it-"

"As good as you're imaging?" she interrupted, knowing what he was going to say. "Yeah, it was pretty awesome."

"What model was it?"

She hesitated, feeling the pressure of his surprising enthusiasm for the topic. "Ummm," she started, wishing she knew. "A red one," she said lamely, giving an apologetic shrug. "I didn't pick you as a car enthusiast."

"I'm not. But a Ferrari?" he questioned, glancing over his shoulder to look for Carl. Swearing under his breath, he leant over and kissed her deeply, giving her keen insight to just how enthusiastic he could be. "We always want what we can't have," he remarked, breaking the kiss quickly.

"Well, one of the rare good things about this world is that money doesn't talk anymore. I'm sure there was a Ferrari owner living in Washington."

He sighed at this, moving away and putting a more platonic distance between them. "That would be…"

When he trailed off wistfully, Carrie couldn't help but laugh, so surprised by the excitement in his voice. This was definitely not something she'd expected from him. "I'm going to find one, just to see the look on your face when I drive it through the gate."

"If that's the case, you and I would have to make excellent use of it."

She burst out laughing, enjoying his lighthearted flirtation. Beginning to feel better about everything, she was grateful for his effort in engaging her in conversation, the laughter having helped ease her nerves. Enjoying his easy company, they talked idly for some time, Rick looking out at the gardens and wondering aloud when they ought to do some more planting. She hoped it was soon, having enjoyed watching him work when they'd first expanded the gardens. Much in the way she did with exercise, Rick buried himself in the gardens and seemed to relax despite the arduous work involved. She'd spent a great deal of time looking over in his direction that day, thoroughly distracted by the hope that he might take his shirt off. To her disappointment he had not, but perhaps when summer truly arrived he would.

"He's here," she said quickly, seeing Carl approaching. It was difficult to see at a distance and through the porch railing, but she could see two familiar figures stopped by the intersection at Jessie's house, and she knew it had to be Carl and Ron.

Turning around to look too, Rick nodded in agreement, bracing himself for what happened next. There was a short pause before he turned back to her. "You good?"

She nodded, feeling much more at ease now. There was still a certain amount of nerves inside her, an reaction that she needed to hide for the duration of the conversation, but it was nothing she couldn't handle. This was far from the most nerve wracking thing she'd ever done, but right now in that moment, telling Carl was the most important thing she'd done since her interview with Deanna. This had to go well, it simply had to.

"He's taking his time," she commented.

"Yes," Rick agreed, looking back up the street again. A slight frown crossed his face, his lips parting as if he were going to say something and then stopped. "He's talking to Ron," he finally muttered. "It looks heated."

Watching Rick's expression, his apparent concern made her feel a little off centre, that something was wrong. She waited for his features to relax, for him to chuckle and say it must have been a debate about a comic book or something, but that didn't happen. In fact, he set his beer down on the table and then stood up to look properly, an action Carrie followed. Standing side by side they looked up the street to where Carl and Ron stood outside the latter's house, their body language defensive, their voices raised but inaudible. Clearly angry, Carl shook his head and tried to walk away but Ron grabbed the back of his sleeve to stop him, quickly darting in front of him and saying something.

Rick shifted his weight nervously, taking a step backwards before stopping himself. Carrie knew what he was thinking, that he was torn between the instinct to intervene on the argument, and the desire to give Carl autonomy. After all, dealing with disagreements among friends was something he had to learn the hard way, just like everyone else had. Folding his arms, Rick simply watched on from a distance, his jaw flexed and his brow furrowed, and Carrie simply waited nervously. Looking back to the two teenagers, she felt a brief moment of relief, seeing that Carl had stepped back from Ron, that he was trying to walk away again. Ron was shouting now, shoving Carl hard enough to make him stumble back a few steps, and Carrie's heart fell, having no doubt about what was going to happen next. Drawing the some conclusion, Rick swore under his breath and started backing up while Carl did the exact opposite.

His face twisted into an angry scowl, he gave no thought to the consequences as he marched straight back to Ron and punched him.


	32. Chapter 32

A/N This chapter is dedicated to Carl Grimes, who deserved a better punch up than that pissy bull shit he got in 6x05!

* * *

What had seemed to be a regular, run of the mill disagreement between friends had escalated without warning, the whole thing taking Rick by surprise. Standing on the front porch with Carrie he'd watched the two teenagers arguing over something, but had fully expected it to blow over, for one of them to blow the other off and then head home. What he hadn't been expected was to see Ron shoving Carl hard enough to make him stumble, nor his son retaliating without so much as a second thought. Well rehearsed in the matter, though never practiced in real life Carl had come back swinging, throwing a well executed punch that would have made Rick proud in any other situation.

By the time Rick reached the pavement, the shove and subsequent punch had escalated into a full blown brawl, the two teens fighting and grappling at one another. Fists and elbows were thrown, heavy kicks were landed, and though Ron was taller, Carl managed to hold him off just enough to protect himself and land a few blows of his own. Racing up the street, Rick yelled at them furiously, his hand automatically drifting to the capsicum spray on his duty belt, though he knew he'd never use it on them. But in the seconds it took for him to get halfway there it seemed a brief impasse had been reached, Carl managing to push Ron far away enough to use distance as a defence.

Stopping in his tracks Rick fell silent, cautiously hopeful that this was the end, that the two of them would reach the conclusion all on their own. For a moment it certainly seemed like that would be the case, the two boys standing a few yards apart, their fists clenched and their chests heaving for breath. Just as Rick had been about to step in and demand an explanation Ron made another move, a stupid one at that. Completely losing the element of surprise, he gave an angry yell as he advanced on Carl and took an almighty swing at him. Having practiced this manoeuvre with Daryl again and again Carl simply stepped back as Ron swung at him, and his own momentum simply spun him around and exposed his back.

Carl acted quickly and seized him from behind, wrapping his arms around Ron's chest and restraining him. They grappled for a moment, and Ron's display of aggression horrified Rick to see, having not expected to see a teenager trying to head butt his best friend. As Ron managed to throw his elbow back and strike Carl in the stomach, Rick reached them before any more injuries could be sustained. Seizing Ron's forearms, he looked Carl in the eye and spoke firmly.

"Back off, now."

Carl obeyed, letting go and stepping back. Turning his attention to Ron now, Rick looked him in the eye and told him to calm down, but Ron was unwilling to listen. As other residents began flocking towards the fight, the sound of Jessie's outraged shouting able to be heard, Ron looked over his shoulder at Carl.

"Don't fucking do it, Carl," he growled. "You don't know what you're doing."

Carl's eyes widened in outrage. "Me? You're the one who doesn't know!" he shouted. "You're dumb as fuck if you thi-"

"Enough," Rick snapped, glaring at the two of them. "That is enough, you hear me?"

The boys fell silent, though it seemed both of them still had a lot to say. "Let me go," Ron said a moment later, trying to yank his arms out of Rick's hands. Though his grip was not tight, it was restrictive.

"Look me in the eye," he requested calmly, waiting until Ron did so. "I need you to tell me that you're calm. I need you to say the words."

There was a short pause, Ron's face twisted into a scowl that made him look a little too much like Pete. But a moment later Rick felt the muscles in his arms relaxing, his fists unclenching. "I'm calm."

Holding him a moment longer, Rick slowly released his arms, a gentle nudge making him back up a few steps. There was an eerie sense of calm now, the two boys glaring at each other as silence fell. Looking back and forth between the two boys, Rick tried to figure out who had been the antagonist in the argument that had preceded the fight, seeking the root cause. Taking a deep breath to steady himself, to recollect his thoughts, he quickly glanced around and took stock of who else was there, glad to see Michonne hovering near by, always appearing out of no where when she was needed. Standing on the pavement was Jessie and Sam, while Pete was making his way over from the Infirmary.

"Would you like to explain yourselves?" Rick began, this being more of a command rather than an offer.

To his surprise it was Carl who spoke first. "Yeah, we would," he answered, still glaring at his friend. "Ron?"

"What?" he said in a deadpan voice.

"Seriously man, come on."

Ron just shook his head, his mouth twitching. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Getting frustrated, Carl stepped towards Rick, looking him in the eye and lowering his voice. "Dad, he-"

Jessie quickly intervened, cutting him off. "Carl, it's fine," she said urgently. "It's just a misunderstanding, honestly."

"Either way," Rick began slowly, trying to gauge the many different emotions being displayed right now. "I'd like an explanation."

Jessie sighed, looking rather pained as she glanced up through the crowd, making eye contact with Pete before she answered. "This morning, Carl overheard something that he may have misund-"

Jessie didn't get to finish, her explanation cut short as Ron lunged for Carl again, the attack too quick for Rick to grab him. There were loud gasps of horror as the two teenagers began brawling again, Ron laying into Carl again and again until he raised his arms to protect himself exactly like Rick had taught him to do only a week ago. Doing the only thing he could, Carl threw all of his weight around Ron's middle and pushed him to the ground, gaining the advantage, and now it was no longer a matter of self defence. Losing his temper, Carl returned the favour and began punching, his jaw clenched as he clumsily prevented Ron from pushing him off.

Not needing to spare any more than a glance for each other, Rick and Michonne seamlessly stepped into action. Seizing Carl around the chest he hauled him up and off of Ron, his own anger growing when Carl didn't give up, still desperately trying to land a kick as he was pulled away. His yelling incomprehensible, Carl's incessant struggling made Rick stumble and lose his footing, the two of them falling backwards. Protecting his son, he twisted and made sure he bore the brunt of the fall, but even the shock of hitting the ground didn't stop Carl, not that he could blame him when he saw Ron lunging for the both of them. Blinded by anger and adrenaline, Ron acted stupidly and tried to attack them again, Michonne swiftly stepping in and restraining him with little effort.

"You're so fucking stupid!" Carl was screaming, apparently not done either. He pushed himself back up to his feet, forcing Rick to follow suit. "You're-"

"Stop," Rick said firmly, seizing him and pulling him close. In front of them, Michonne manoeuvred Ron down to his knees and held him there. "Carl! Stop, now!"

Refusing, Carl roughly tried to get out of Rick's embrace, yelling at him now, demanding he be released. Holding tight, he braced himself to endure, knowing that soon enough Carl would either give up or wear himself out. But mere seconds later he fell silent, his body going still the very moment Pete stepped through the crowd of onlookers and approached his son. Furiously demanding that Michonne release him, Pete swooped down and hauled Ron to his feet, Rick watching the interaction with growing concern. Somewhat perturbed, Michonne slowly backed away, sharing a brief glance with him.

"Ron?" Pete asked slowly, his hand clenched in the collar of his son's shirt. "What's going on?"

Watching carefully, Rick slowly released his grip around Carl's chest and arms, feeling how still he had become at Pete's arrival. Keeping a hand on Carl's shoulder to remind him to behave, Rick looked at Pete critically. Though clenching his son's shirt was an effective way of restraining him, for some reason it raised Rick's hackles, making him feel strangely protective of the teen who had just attacked his own son.

Sniffling, Ron used his sleeve to wipe up a stream of blood coming from his nostril. "Nothing," he answered, his voice deadpanned. He looked at Carl now, his pointed expression indicating that he too should speak.

"Yeah," Carl said shortly. "Nothing."

Rick looked at him in surprise, stepped around beside him to look his son in the eye. "What was that?"

"Nothing," he repeated, never taking his eyes off Ron. "Just a misunderstanding."

Roughly tugging his shirt down, Carl pressed the back of his hand to his mouth, stemming the blood that was running over his bottom lip and dribbling down his chin. Apparently having nothing more to say, he started walking away, but not if Rick had anything to do with it.

"Don't take another step," he said firmly. Still looking between Ron and Pete, he watched from the corner of his eye as Carl came to a stop, giving a long sigh of frustration. Clearing his throat, he looked around at the crowd of people, needing them to dissipate. "Everyone go home, please."

Their faces a mixture of concern and disappointment, the crowd began to disperse, people like Michonne and Glenn stepping up and hurrying people to leave. As he waited, Rick looked at Carl, frustrated when his son refused to meet his eye. Something was going on here. Right up until Pete's arrival, Carl had been ready to spill everything, desperate to. Now, it was all just a misunderstanding? Rick smelled bullshit, and he was not prepared to let it fly.

"Take a seat," he said to Ron, indicating to the front steps of his house. "Carl? You too."

There was an awkward pause, both of the teenagers delaying what they had been instructed to do for as long as they could. Making the first move, Ron yanked his shirt out of Pete's hands and turned away, his demeanour petulant as he sat down and brushed off Jessie's concern.

"Go inside, Sweet Heart," Pete told her, giving her what seemed to be a reassuring nod. "We'll take care of this."

Rick watched on as Jessie did what she was asked to do, albeit hesitantly. She looked at Carl apologetically, and it looked as though she was going to say something to him until Pete spoke again, repeating his instructions. Taking Sam by the hand, she led him up the steps and into the house and as she closed the front door she looked out at Rick, but he was unable to read her expression. Increasingly worried, he sighed and turned to Carl.

"Do not make me ask you again," he warned.

Receiving a gentle nudge, Carl bent down and picked up his fallen hat, holding it tightly as he trudged over and sat down next to Ron, the two teenagers sitting as far apart as physically possible. Turning his attention to Pete now, Rick wondered how this was going to go, keenly remembering what had happened between the two of them a week ago, the day of the failed supply run. Drunk, Pete had all but barged into his house and threatened to tell Carl about he and Carrie, to tell him about Judith's paternity. Words had been exchanged, threats made, but with everything that had happened since then there had been no other interaction between the two of them other than discussing Tara's recovery. With all that in mind, Rick was not optimistic about how the two of them were going to work together to sort out the problem between their sons.

"So, who's going to start?" Rick asked, looping his thumb through his duty belt as he stood there before the two teens. They sat silently, their eyes trained on the ground in front of them.

"Start what?" Ron asked, never looking up.

"You're explanation," Rick said impatiently. "I want to hear it. Now."

"Yes," Pete chimed in. Taking a few steps closer, he leant his hand on the top of the steps' railing, and Rick couldn't help but notice how he seemed to be towering over his son. "I'm very interested to hear this, Ron."

"It was nothing," Ron said blankly.

"Carl?" Pete asked now, looking at him expectantly. "Do you have anything to add?"

Raising his head, Carl looked up at Pete, his expression taking Rick by surprise. Carl looked like he was barely restraining himself, his jaw clenched in anger. Refusing to answer him, he looked at Pete as though challenging him, unafraid of his authority. Breaking eye contact first, Pete turned back to his own son, relaying the question again. Watching on in silence, Rick knew that his instincts were right, that something was seriously wrong. He couldn't help but feel as though Pete was trying to intimidate Ron, that he was towering over him for a reason. Though his behaviour was restrained, and was well within his rights as a parent, it made Rick rather uncomfortable to watch. There was a difference between exerting authority and being intimidating to your own child.

"Carl?" Pete asked again. "Anything at all?"

Rick knew he had to put a stop to this, with or without an explanation. It was clear to him that Carl was holding back, that he wanted to tell Rick what was wrong, but he couldn't. As soon as Pete had stepped in, Carl had clammed up, suddenly changing his story and agreeing with Ron that nothing was wrong. Taking into account the whole situation, he knew he had to give Carl the opportunity to speak to him alone, to someone he trusted…that was the only way Rick was going to learn anything.

"Carl, go home. Now."

Pete looked up abruptly, as if only just remembering Rick was there. His face softened, concern showing. "No, I should check him over. I should…" he trailed off, watching as Carl got to his feet and walked away without another word. "Rick, I should really check his leg."

Watching his son leaving the situation, Rick turned back to Pete. "No, thank you," he said stiffly.

Without another word, he ignored Pete's insistence and set off after Carl. As he fully expected she would, Michonne fell into step right by his side, patiently awaiting him to tell her what he needed. "Something's going on," he said quietly. "Stick close to Pete for me."

"Got it," she said shortly, this being all the information she needed. "I'll have Abraham back me up."

Thanking her, Rick continued on his way, briefly sparing a glance for Carrie as he passed her on the street. In that moment he remembered what they had been planning to do, that they had been ready to tell Carl about their relationship, but those plans would have to be set aside. Clearly understanding this, Carrie didn't try to stop him to talk, merely wishing him luck as he passed her by. He breathed a sigh of relief as soon as he stepped through the front door of his house, knowing that he would now get to the bottom of this.

"Carl," he called out, hearing his footsteps racing up the stairs. "Come back down, please."

The footsteps slowed, and there was a long pause before they started again, this time much slower. As Carl came back down the stairs and entered the short hallway he looked at Rick apprehensively, perhaps thinking he was going to be in trouble, that Rick was about to start yelling. While he felt that need, the desire to yell at his son and punish him for brawling in the street, he did not, knowing that Carl was caught in the middle of something he didn't know how to handle. Yelling at him would not achieve anything, least of all the trust he would need to tell him what was going on.

"Is your leg okay?" he asked, addressing the biggest concern first. The gunshot injury had been sustained three months ago, and though it had healed well Rick was still concerned, particularly if Pete had expressed a desire to check it over.

"It doesn't hurt." Slowly entering the living area, he looked particularly glum.

Relieved to hear it, he gestured to the dining room table. "Then take a seat."

Waiting until Carl did as he was told, Rick headed into the kitchen. Collecting a glass of water and the first aid kit, he took a moment to collect his thoughts, to wearily rub the bridge of his nose while he took stock of his own injuries. Carl had kept struggling when Rick pulled him off Ron, his movements making them both fall backwards. He'd grazed his right elbow, and his shoulder was aching like hell, but he would deal with that later. Taking the seat adjacent to his son, he handed him the glass of water and then opened the first aid kit. Attending to the blood first, he looked at the cut inside Carl's lip, the area already beginning to swell. Seeing that he had bitten his inner lip, Rick pressed a swab against the cut and then told him to hold it there, turning his attention elsewhere. The left side of his face had borne the brunt of Ron's blows, his eye and cheekbone showing signs of swelling and tenderness. Fetching him an ice pack for it, he gently dabbed at a few cuts and scrapes on his knuckles and arms, then tended to a graze on his side.

Carl winced as Rick dabbed at it, apologising as he tried to clean out the debris. Judging by the location it had occurred when they'd fallen backwards together, when they had landed on the road. The bleeding was minimal, but it was clearly rather painful. Nevertheless Rick had to continue, trying to be as gentle as possible. Finding a dressing large enough, he had Carl hold his shirt up while he applied it, smoothing down the edges and protecting it.

"Anything else?"

Carl shook his head, but his eyes darted to one of his fingers, making Rick look too. The fourth finger on his right hand was red and swollen, and while at first he thought it might be broken, he looked closer and saw that the nail's cuticle had split through to his skin. Rifling through the medical kit, he wondered what would be best to use, finding some butterfly strips and deciding on those. Needing to get close to the wound, he pulled on some gloves before applying a damp swab to the area, cleaning off the dried blood.

"You can tell me what's going on now." When Carl didn't reply for almost thirty seconds, Rick looked up at him. "You seem to be under the impression that you have the right to remain silent…I don't feel the Fifth Amendment applies. Is this about Enid?" he enquired, starting with something unlikely to prompt Carl into answering.

Carl scoffed at this, finally speaking. "Come on, give me some credit."

"Then tell me what's going on."

Again, Carl hesitated. Knowing he would speak when he was ready, Rick let him be, not nagging him to answer, though he wanted to. Drying off the skin on his finger, he carefully applied some butterfly strips and pulled the skin back together, going slowly and apologising when Carl flinched. Glancing up at him, he watched as he took a breath and then lowered the ice pack from his face.

"This morning when I went to school, I stopped at Ron's house to walk with him. Jessie always tells me I don't have to knock, that I should just come straight in…so I did."

"Alright," he said, indicating that he was following.

"I went in, and I could hear them arguing…Jessie and Pete. Their bedroom is downstairs." Pausing, Carl sighed before he continued, and now the words came tumbling out of his mouth. "I thought I could hear him hitting her…like I could hear bumps, and then something smashed I think. I didn't know what to do, so I just knocked on their door and interrupted them."

Rick's heart sank, and as Carl continued to explain, a few things began falling into place.

"Pete and Jessie came out, and everything seemed normal. I didn't know what to do, so I just asked where Ron was, and then Pete got really weird with me…like he was angry at me for something."

"Did he hurt you?"

"No," he said hastily. "But he seemed mad…he told me to go away, so I had to." There was a short pause, Carl looking at him apprehensively. "Dad?"

"Keep going," he requested. "What started the fight with Ron?"

"I knew he could hear what happened, his bedroom is right above theirs. But he said nothing was wrong. I tried to talk to him, but he just wanted to go to school, so I had to let it go."

"Why didn't you come and talk to me?" he asked in concern, trying not to make Carl feel bad.

Carl's voice was soft when he answered, his tone apologetic. "I didn't know if I was being stupid or not. I didn't actually see anything…I thought if I just asked Ron, I could figure it out. I finally got him to tell me when we took a break in class, but he didn't seem worried about it."

"But you were?"

He nodded, starting to look frustrated. "We were coming home, and I tried to convince him to tell you. I told him you'd help, but he just kept telling me to butt out, that it was none of my business."

"What started the fight?"

"He started it," Carl said defensively. "He shoved me first, and then he said th…" Trailing off, he scratched the back of his neck. "It doesn't matter. I threw the first punch."

"What did he say?" he pressed, wanting to know everything.

Watching as Rick gently applied a waterproof dressing around his finger, trimming the edges to size, Carl answered dejectedly. "We started arguing, I got mad at him because he didn't seem to care about his mom. Then he said that because I killed my mom, I'm not allowed to care about his."

"Ouch," Rick commiserated, finally understanding.

"I shouldn't have let him get to me…he was just being an asshole."

"Yes, he was. Doesn't mean it didn't hurt to hear that."

Finished with the first aid kit, Rick removed the gloves and started piling everything back in, trying to collect his thoughts. When he'd awoken that morning, the last thing he'd expected to be doing was handling a punch up between teenagers and reports of domestic violence…hell, he was meant to be sitting on the porch with Carrie and Carl, telling him about their relationship.

"You okay?" Rick asked his son, concerned about more than just his physical health. Showing him a blister pack, he cracked two Tylenol pills into his palm.

Carl nodded dejectedly, pulling a face as he swallowed the pills and chased them with some water. "You know Ron can't lift his arm higher than his head? He said that was from an accident."

"You don't think it was?" he enquired, already drawing his own conclusions.

"No. I think Pete hurts them too. Sam has a lock inside his cupboard," he added. "I noticed it ages ago when I was helping him with something…I thought it was for Walkers."

"What else do you know?" Rick pressed, hoping that Carl had further insight. When he didn't answer, he went more specific. "Do you know if Pete has a gun in the house?"

"If I'd seen one I would have told you already. Do you think he might?"

"I don't know. I'd rather be sure though."

"We should check the armoury," Carl suggested urgently. "Make sure there're none missing."

"I will," he agreed thoughtfully, though he didn't expect to find discrepancies.

Like every other adult, Pete had the access code to their general use armoury, which consisted of their hand guns and a few of the easier to use rifles. It would be easy enough to check that everything was accounted for, to make sure that all weapons carried by people were accounted for too, but he suspected Pete was smarter than that. If he had taken a gun, he would have done it long before Rick enforced the new armoury system. Prior to that, handguns and ammunitions were stored without being catalogued, making it possible for people like Rick and Carol to steal a few. Though Pete had never shown an interest in having a handgun kept at home, Rick knew better than to take this on face value.

"Dad, what do we do now?"

Looking at his son and seeing the compassion and worry on his face, Rick felt a surge of pride for him, while simultaneously feeling guilty. Carl was mature beyond his years, already worried about a domestic violence situation at fourteen years old. Even with the world as it was, Rick still wanted to protect him from things like that, for him to not become hardened or cynical…he wondered how long that would last.

"If anyone asks why you and Ron were fighting, tell them it's none of their business. I don't care if you have to be rude, tell them to butt out. For now, we keep this to ourselves, alright?"

"But, what are you going to do about it?"

"I will handle it."

"You should make Jessie kick him out," Carl insisted angrily. "Kick him out of Alexandria!"

Taking a breath, Rick tried to remember who he was talking to, to take into account his lack of understanding. "It's not as simple as that."

"Yes, it is. He's hurting her."

"I know," he assured him. "The situation is simple to you and I…but it's not simple for Jessie."

"He's hur-"

"I need you to trust me, okay?"

Looking away in frustration, Carl readjusted the ice pack on his eye, looking as though he was barely restraining himself from a tirade of venting. Knowing his thought process, Rick understood what he was feeling, what it was like to be unable to do anything about someone in trouble, someone who needed his help. He'd been through this type of situation many times before, attending many domestic violence call outs as a police officer, but even back then there was only so much he could do in some situations. Thinking things through, he knew Carl was going to need an explanation, something to satisfy his rightful frustration.

"If this is really happening to Jessie and her boys, it's not a simple problem for her," he began to explain. "To us, he should be made to leave, or she should leave him."

"Yes," Carl agreed lowly.

"Jessie won't see it like that. There're many dimensions to this situation that make it hard for her. I doubt that she wants to leave him. He's her husband, she loves him."

"How could she love him?" Carl questioned, outraged by the mere thought.

"Because she does. Same goes for Ron and Sam…he's their dad. Do you understand what I mean when I say that to us it's simple, but to them it's not?"

There was a long pause, but then very slowly Carl nodded. With a long sigh, he looked up at Rick. "We can't let him keep doing it."

"I need you to let me handle it."

"What are you going to do?" he asked again.

Taking a breath, Rick knew that Carl needed solid answers, but he couldn't give them to him just yet. "I don't know yet, but I will handle it."

Carl nodded, getting the hint. "What can I do?" he asked, needing to help.

Closing the first aid kit, Rick got up and returned it to the kitchen cupboard, answering as he went. "You're not going to want to hear this, but Ron's going to need a friend." As he expected he might, Carl scoffed in derision, but he trailed off with a sigh. "I know you don't like him very much, neither do I for that matter. But he's having a tough time…he's going to need a friend to be there for him."

"That's all?" Carl questioned skeptically, clearly feeling as though he was being brushed off.

"That will make all the difference. Trust me."

Though he seemed generally dissatisfied with not knowing what would happen next, Carl slowly nodded. Trusting that he would do as he was told, that he would follow his lead, Rick prepared to leave. Removing the child lock from the front cupboard, he took out his knife and machete before opening the gun safe for his Colt.

"I want you to stay home, keep that ice pack on," he instructed, opening the chamber and checking the rounds like he always did. Securing it in his holster and checking the spare rounds in his duty belt, he continued. "Lock the door behind me, the side door too. If Pete, Jessie or Ron come over, don't let them in. Even if they're here to apologise."

"Do you think they know that I've told you?"

"Yes."

"Do you think he might be-"

"Hurting her now? No," he assured him, though this was only a presumption. "If he thinks we're looking at him, he'll be husband of the year. Michonne and Abraham are close by, just in case. Either way, you're not to let them in. Lock the side door too," he reminded him.

"Where are you going?" Carl asked now, following him to the front door.

"To do rounds, and then see about a few things. I don't know when I'll be back."

"Okay," he agreed, though he sounded reluctant. "Thanks, Dad."

Halfway across the front porch, Rick stopped in his tracks and then turned back. Proud of his son, he returned to him and gently pulled him into an embrace, careful not to aggravate any bruises that might be developing. "I'm very proud of you," he told him, reminding himself to say this more often.

"Even though I threw the first punch?" he asked skeptically.

"You also tried to walk away," Rick commented, letting him go now. "Don't think I didn't notice that. You tried to do the right thing, you were trying to help. Besides…he did deserve it a little."

To his surprise, Carl actually managed a small smile at this. "I'll lock the side door," he assured him. "Be safe out there."

Watching as Carl closed the door and turned the lock, he waited until he disappeared down the hallway to lock the side door, and only when he reappeared with a thumbs up did Rick depart. Mentally drained, and with an aching shoulder to boot, Rick set off up the street, knowing that to start helping Jessie, he himself would need help. He wouldn't be able to help her on his own. There were people to needed to talk to first, information he needed from people like Deanna…but first on his list was someone a little closer to home.

"How's Rocky?"

Glancing up at the second house as he passed it by, Rick was unsurprised to note that Tara had been the one to ask that question. She and Carrie were side by side on the front porch, Tara laying back with her legs stretched across Carrie's lap. Still recovering from her head injury, she was resting with a damp cloth over her face, probably trying to soothe her headache while getting some fresh air. With Tara unable to actually see him, he exchanged a glance with Carrie, seeing that she looked a little more concerned rather than entertained like Tara.

"He's still swinging," he assured them.

"Was it about Enid?" Tara enquired, lifting the cloth enough to take a peak at him. "Please tell me there's a love triangle, I have a foot rub wagered on this."

Knowing he should have expected this, Rick chuckled to himself. "Feel better soon, Tara."

Leaving it at that, he looked at Carrie apologetically, feeling bad that their plans had been derailed, but she showed no signs of being upset, not that he had expected she would. She'd be disappointed of course, the two of them having been nervously excited about taking the step of telling Carl about their relationship, but he knew she'd be more concerned about Carl's well being and what had started the fight.

Continuing on his way, Rick made a point of looking over Pete and Jessie's house, pleased to see Michonne seated on the grass below the main bedroom window. He exchanged a short wave with her, but his lack of further conversation told her to stay put, to keep going as she was. Reaching the intersection, he looked up the road and found Abraham and Glenn side by side outside the dining room, standing watch. They didn't know what was happening, though they likely suspected, but for now they trusted Rick enough to follow his lead, to do as he had asked and keep an eye on the place. Grateful for the trust he and his people had with one another, he turned right and headed down towards the gates, but he wasn't going out alone.

As he approached Natalie and Bob's house, he was unsurprised to find them sitting out the front in the company of Carol, the latter clearly having been waiting for him to arrive. Putting on a pleasant facade, he smiled and raised his hand in a polite wave.

"Hi Bob," he greeted them pleasantly. "Natalie."

"Rick," Bob nodded, looking concerned. "I hope your boy's alright…I saw what happened."

"He's fine, thanks."

"He's a good boy, don't you think, Robert?" Natalie mused, looking at her husband. "He's always here cutting our grass…he knows you can't do it anymore." She turned to Rick now, continuing. "And, he cleaned my windows for me too. Oh, just the downstairs ones, I wouldn't let him up the ladder, but he…"

Letting Natalie prattle on, Rick shared a glance with Carol, not needing words to tell her that something was wrong, that it was serious. Knowing Natalie and Bob well, Carol managed to gently pry the conversation back for just a moment.

"I've been nagging Rick to take me outside the walls for a while," she apologised as she got to her feet.

Bob and Natalie seemed genuinely disappointed to see her go, and they thanked her profusely for her company like they always did. With the assurance that she'd bring Judith with her next time she came to visit, she promptly cleared away the empty pot of tea and cups before departing. Seeing Holly near by, Rick called her over to take gate duty for a short while, and when he and Carol emerged into the world outside they fell into step beside one another. As they began making their way around the walls, they wasted no time in addressing the issue.

"If you're coming to me," Carol began perceptively. "Then it's what I think it is, right?"

Neither of them needing to clarify what it was she was talking about. "Yeah."

As they passed by the first lot of spikes with Walkers on them, Carol sighed and swore under her breath. "How bad is it?"

"I don't know yet, but bad enough."

They walked in silence for about a minute, the two of them exchanging glances as they went, both knowing exactly what the other was thinking. They knew how one another worked, and more importantly they knew how the world worked…there was only one solution they would be satisfied with.

"We need to talk to Deanna," Carol started thinking aloud. "Remember when we got back from the supply run, and we had that bug in her living room? She mentioned that they dealt with Pete, that there was some kind of problem they fixed…maybe it was this."

Rick sighed, trying to think. "If Deanna knew, she wouldn't let this go on," he reasoned. "She wouldn't let Jessie and her kids live with a man who abused them."

"She would if she thought she fixed the problem."

"No, she's not that stupid. She can't fix Pete."

"Come on, Rick. We both know Deanna has her heart in the right place, but that she's complacent. What we over heard Carrie saying to her after the party? Carrie was right. Deanna buries her head in the sand just as much as everyone else does. She's living a delusion too."

Taking in what she had to say, Rick reluctantly agreed, remembering what they had overheard Carrie saying. Deanna was a politician, and that was both her strength and weakness…she tended to give people what they wanted, not what they needed. He imagined Jessie coming to her for help, and Deanna simply smoothing it all over. She would have made a token effort to help Jessie, perhaps she even confronted Pete and told him to stop…she would have done enough to let herself sleep at night, but nothing actually effective.

"Carol, what was it that you needed?" he asked, the two of them close enough that he could bring up such a sensitive subject. "When you were with Ed, when you left him again and again, only to go back. What did you need someone to do to help you?"

She answered without hesitation. "I needed him gone. I needed no opportunity for him to follow me, or for me to go back to him, because I always did."

"Why did you?"

"Because I didn't think I deserved better. Because I had no choice. I had no family or friends, no money, no credit history, not even a driver's licence…and Sophia. I needed Ed gone from our lives…gone all together."

Walking past the new walls for a second time, Rick cast his eyes over them, pleased by their progress. They had almost completed the first phase of the expansion that would encompass some new houses and the church, and the only thing holding them up with the installation of a second gate. They didn't have the right materials to construct it properly. Abraham would be organising some extra runs with Glenn and Heath, runs Rick wished were not necessary.

"If you want to protect Jessie, you're going to have to kill Pete," Carol stated as fact.

"Yes."

"Thing is…you can't."

"Why not?" he asked, wanting her perspective.

"We can't keep winning their trust and then throwing it away," she said, referring to the Alexandrians. "We barely recovered after the Wolf, the Walker and Carter. Now with the supply run and two deaths? You kill their doctor, you'll lose them forever. It will be straight back to the days of people getting stupid ideas in their heads…one way or another, they'll kill you eventually."

"We might have to take that risk. It's the only way we'll be able to protect Jessie."

Carol shook her head. "We can't."

Looking at her, Rick got the feeling that Carol was holding something back. "What is it?" he asked bluntly, needing her to be straightforward. "Carol? Why can't we kill him?"

There was hesitation on her part, a short sigh that indicated she didn't want to tell him. "With what happened to Noah and Aidan, they asked me not to say anything just yet."

"Who?"

"Maggie and Glenn."

The mention of their names alone was enough to remind Rick of what else what at stake here. "Is everything alright with the baby?"

Carol nodded reassuringly, but quickly elaborated. "Her blood pressure's elevated, there's protein in her urine, and she has a family history of pre-eclampsia. Twenty six weeks is prime time for this diagnosis."

Rick closed his eyes for a moment, trying to absorb the news. "Shit," he muttered. "How bad is it?"

"She's fine right now, in all likelihood she'll continue to be fine. But when Maggie and Shaun were born, Josephine Greene was on bedrest in the last months. We don't know how this will turn out."

"If she does get sick from this, what's the treatment?"

"Deliver the baby."

"Oh," he muttered, looping his thumb around his duty belt and looking around, checking their surroundings. "That's not ideal."

"Pete will monitor her as much as she needs him to, but we won't know if she actually needs him or not until she actually needs him. If we want to help Jessie without compromising Maggie, we need to take this slowly…we need to talk to Deanna."

Nothing Carol said was what he wanted to hear right now, and the news of Maggie's health only made their situation worse. When he saw a Walker approaching he headed over to it and plunged his knife into the skull, using more force than necessary, immensely satisfied when it slumped down to the ground without fuss. The situation with Pete that had started a week ago was getting complicated. Standing there with blood dripping down the length of the blade he braced himself before speaking, knowing that once he said this, it was no longer just his problem. By telling her, he would be making this Carol's problem too, he'd be getting her involved.

"Pete has been…causing problems for me."

"How so?"

Wiping his knife clean on the Walker's shirt, he folded it and slipped it back into his pocket before he turned back to her, the two of them resuming their walk around the walls. "He came around last week, drunk. Made all sorts of threats, about Carl and Carrie…and Judith."

Carol took a sharp intake of breath, immediately understanding what he was getting at, what Pete had been threatening. There was a short pause as she thought about this, slowly coming to a conclusion of sorts. "You know what's at stake here," she began, referring to more than just his children, but Maggie too. "Do whatever you have to do to protect your kids…but if you have to kill him for them, not for Jessie, make it look like an accident. You can't afford to lose trust."

He gave a bitter laugh at this. "Trust me, it's crossed my mind," he muttered, looking at the ground as he walked. The complications in his life never stopped…first Carl and Judith, then Jessie, now Maggie. Looking up and checking their surroundings, he too came to a conclusion of sorts. "Let's talk to Deanna…now."

"Take Michonne….not me," she said, the two of them speeding up their pace. "She's your fellow Constable. I'm just Carol."

"Just Carol?"

She nodded. "Yes. Deanna thinks I miss my sweet, sweet husband every day…she needs to keep thinking that."

"Yes," he agreed, knowing Carol's usefulness as innocent Mrs Peletier was endless. "I'll take Michonne. Sjit, this is…"

"Not going to be easy," Carol concluded for him. "And Deanna's just the start. The hard part is going to be Jessie."

Rick swore again, all his experience with domestic violence cases coming straight back to him the more he thought about it. "She'll have to cooperate…I won't be giving her many options."

"You're going to play hard ball?"

"I might have to. Kick him out of your house, or I'll kick him out all together." He glanced at her, gauging her thoughts. "You don't think that will work?"

"Kicking him out completely will be seen as an empty threat once words gets out about Maggie," she said , lowering her voice as they returned to the gates. Knowing that Holly was waiting for them Carol raised her hand and knocked politely, keeping her voice low as they waited. "Whatever agreement you reach with Jessie, you'll need to do it on her terms. Give her some time…give her some confidence and support to see for herself."

"I don't how much time she'll have."

"She's safe for now," Carol muttered, smiling cheerfully and thanking Holly when she let them in. "The best times in my marriage were always the first few weeks after coming back to Ed. Jessie's going to be fine for now."

"He'll be husband of the year," he agreed, remembering what he had told Carl. "I'm still going to have a watch on her place. There's no point in hiding it, they both must know this is coming out."

"Yes, they do."

Reaching their street, they turned left and began heading home, but Rick slowed to a stop and looked between the second house and Jessie's, seeing Michonne still sitting there keeping watch. Whistling to her lowly, he got her attention and then motioned for her to join him. As he waited for her to join them he turned back to Carol.

"We were going to tell Carl today." He didn't elaborate further, for though they hadn't acknowledged their relationship to anyone yet, Carol seemed to see and hear a little of everything that went on. As he suspected, she didn't seem surprised.

"Now's probably not a great time," she said bluntly.

"No," he agreed, filled with immense disappointment. He had hoped that Carol might say something different, that her response wouldn't be perfectly in line with what his gut was already telling him. But what had he been expecting to hear? _Having a falling out with his best friend is no big deal. Go on, upheave his life a little more._

"Would you go home for me? Keep an eye on Carl?"

Carol nodded in agreement. "Good luck."

"Thanks," he muttered, sighing as one woman left and another joined him. "Hey," he greeted Michonne, glad to see she happened to be wearing her Constable uniform…Deanna would like that.

"Hey," she replied shortly, looking as worried as he felt. She watched Carol as she departed, trying to make the connection between all of the interactions that day. "Everything sorted out?"

He shook his head, glancing first at Jessie's house, and then at the second house where Carrie and Tara still sat on the porch. Though she seemed occupied, Rick could tell Carrie wanted to know what was going on, that she wanted an explanation as to what all the fuss was about. She was watching from afar, dutifully rubbing Tara's feet and keeping her company. He wished he had the time to tell her what was going on.

"You and I need to talk to Deanna," he told Michonne, starting off towards her townhouse.

Falling into step beside him, Michonne's worry did not ease. "Is it what I think it is?" she enquired. "Pete's abusing Jessie?"

"Yes," he answered, unsurprised that she was as perceptive as Carol. "I don't know the extent of it…but I think Deanna might."

"You think she knows and hasn't done anything?"

"Yes."

Michonne swore uncharacteristically. "So, we're going to confront her about knowing?"

He shook his head, though he'd very much like to. "No…we're going to ask for information, what she does and doesn't know…then, we confront her."

* * *

A/N Hi all, thanks for reading. Just a minor note that I've waved my magic writer's wand and progressed Maggie's pregnancy a little further forward than it would be if we strictly stuck to the time line. I've revised any previous chapters that mention the stage of her pregnancy. Otherwise, carry on reading and enjoying. Thanks.


	33. Chapter 33

The sound of Judith fussing roused Rick, forcibly dragging him from the depths of desperately needed sleep and back to consciousness. Though his head was heavy with exhaustion and his body sore from wrangling Carl during the fight, he opened his eyes and looked into the crib beside his bed. Judith stood at the railing of her crib, looking at him expectantly as she sniffled. Noting that it was barely four o'clock in the morning he stayed still in the bleak hope that she might settle herself down again, but a low whine indicated that was not the case. Still hopeful, he thought for sure that it was Lori's turn to get up for the baby…surely it was Lori's turn by now.

He rolled over to nudge Lori awake before giving a short sigh, feeling the abrupt jolt that came every time his memory lapsed. Lori wasn't here anymore, he was the only one who tended to Judith during the night. He allowed himself to feel only a moment of pain, one he felt entitled to, and smelling a full diaper he forced himself from his warm bed and tended to his daughter. Her fussing eased the moment he brought her into his arms, and she eagerly snuggled into his chest and clenched his shirt, but emitted a loud cry when he laid her down to change her diaper. Noting that her cheeks were red and her chin was covered in saliva, he cursed the descending molar that was causing both of them so much pain. He hastened to quieten her, passing over her duck and swiftly applying some Orajel to the back of her lower gum, but when that didn't work he simply went about the task of changing her diaper as quickly as possible.

Just as he finished and brought her back to his chest Carl sighed loudly and turned onto his front, making a point of pulling his pillow over his head. Apologising softly, though he hadn't been the one to awaken him, Rick rubbed Judith's back as she slowly began to settle, though she sniffled and whined miserably, pressing the back of her hand against her cheek to alleviate her pain. Cursing her awful timing he briefly considered waking Carol so that he could get some sleep, needing it desperately, but like he always did he resisted the urge. No matter how much help he took from his family during the day, at night time he was determined that he be the only one who tended to Judith, the only one dragged out of their warm bed to comfort and soothe her. Even back at the prison when Beth and Carol had been her main caregivers when he worked out on supply runs and then in the gardens, at night he was the only one who tended to her. There had been only one occasion in which he had allowed Beth to take Judith into her cell at night…Rick had lasted only a few hours before sneaking in and taking his daughter back. Despite his exhaustion and her tendency to take a bottle every three hours, he missed her.

Knowing he needed to sleep, but also that Judith wouldn't likely lay down in the bed with him at the moment, he handed her the teething toy from his nightstand and then sank into the rocking chair. Tucking her warm blanket around her, he bundled her up along with her duck and then began rocking, relieved when she finally settled. A few miserable hiccups passed her lips as she began to chew on her teething toy, working her tender gums over it to relieve the pain. Stroking her hair, he rocked them until he was absolutely certain she was comfortable and settled, and only then did he bother trying to close his own eyes and get some sleep.

He'd just spent most of the night sitting outside Pete and Jessie's bedroom window, listening for any sound of a disturbance, the only thing he could do for her right now. It probably didn't matter whether there was a guard on duty or not, he doubted Pete would be stupid enough to hand out any abuse tonight. He knew Rick was out there…he had to know. With what Carl had over heard that morning and the subsequent fist fight, Pete and Jessie must know that they were under intense scrutiny. It would have put a great deal of pressure on Pete, so despite the fact that he'd be behaving himself, and it was now increasingly important that they handle the situation immediately. If they let Jessie fall back into the routine of trusting her loving husband it would be harder to get her on board, to convince her to leave him. As crude as it was to say, they needed to do this while the bruises were fresh.

Though it had been the last thing he wanted to do, Rick and Michonne had gone straight to Deanna's house following his talk with Carol, not wanting to delay the inevitable. Nevertheless, it was harder than he expected to walk up the front steps and knock on her door, knowing that he was intruding on private grief. After he'd come to confirm Aidan's death last week he'd done all he could to avoid the Monroe family, not that this was difficult. They had been practically confined to their townhouse, residents occasionally catching glimpses of Reg and Spencer sitting on the patio, but for the most part everyone left them alone, Rick included. Telling them of Aidan's death had been difficult enough…as selfish as it might be, he didn't want to be part of their grief as well. He had his own people to look after. Remembering how it felt when Lori died, he knew that the Monroes didn't want to see him, that he had no help to give them.

But, when faced with the indications of what was going on at the Anderson house, Rick had no choice but to intrude on Deanna's grief, to ask her to step up and resume her role as leader, even if only for ten minutes. Side by side and with a general plan in mind, Rick and Michonne had knocked on her front door and then waited, fully expecting the look of surprise on Deanna's face when she opened the door and found them. She invited them in straight away and then showed them out onto the porch, apologetically excusing herself for a few minutes. While they waited for her to return, Rick strategically directed Michonne to sit opposite him at the table rather than beside him, wanting her opposite him. He then pulled out the chair at the head of the table, a subtle cue that should hopefully direct Deanna to sit there.

"I heard about what happened," Deanna started, coming outside with a pleasant smile on her face. She appeared to have freshened up for their company, having washed her faced and changed her shirt. To his satisfaction, she took the seat that Rick had pulled out a little. "Spencer saw it. They're both alright?"

It took Rick a moment to realise she was talking about Carl and Ron, and he mentally had to back track a little. "A little sore and sorry for themselves I think."

Deanna seemed to shake her head in exasperation, trying to maintain the pleasant facade she so obviously needed in order to host them. "I hope it wasn't over Enid…you know how young men can get."

It would have been easy to slip into small talk about teenage boys, for he was sure that Deanna had plenty of experience and knowledge to share with him, but Rick didn't allow them to go down this path. Sharing a glance with Michonne who sat across from him, he began speaking. "Actually, it's a lot more serious than that."

"Oh?" Deanna frowned, giving them her full attention. She sat up a little straighter in the chair, clearing her throat as she brushed back her hair. "What is it?"

"We have a problem with Pete," Michonne began gently. "A very serious problem."

Watching Deanna very carefully, Rick gauged her reaction, seeing what he had hoped he wouldn't. Recognition crossed her face, indicating that Carol had been right, that she knew what was going on.

"I had hoped it would get better," she said solemnly, looking away from he and Michonne.

"So, you knew?" he questioned, being frank. When she didn't answer, he shared a glance with Michonne. "And to think I just got done defending you."

"Defending me?" Deanna frowned, looking up at him.

"Yes. I didn't think you'd be so neglectful to Jessie." He paused, letting that sink in. "It hasn't gotten better. It won't."

Looking away again, Deanna settled back into her chair, her shoulders slumped. "Pete's a surgeon…he's saved lives," she remarked thoughtfully. "He saved Tara's life."

"He's also beating his wife," Michonne added, her tone calm and even. "His children too…we have to put a stop to that."

Deanna didn't react to this for a very long moment, her eyes fixed on a point far away. Just as Rick began to question if she was paying attention, she finally spoke. "How?" she enquired, clearly not expecting anything she hadn't already considered.

"We separate them," Michonne stated. "Tell them that's how it will be from now on."

"What happens when he doesn't want to do that?" Deanna challenge, looking Michonne in the eye and then Rick. "What happens then?"

"I have no intention of giving him a choice in the matter," he said bluntly.

Deanna narrowed her eyes, scrutinising him very closely. "So what happens?"

He bluffed. "I kill him."

It appeared Deanna had been expecting this very response, for she seemed unsurprised. Hell, she shouldn't be…she knew what he was like, the lengths he was willing to take. But unlike when she had let him handle the Wolf outside the walls, this time it would not be so easy. "We don't kill people," she warned him. "This is civilisation."

"Warning someone to stop, or die…that is civilised now a days."

"No."

Taking pause, Rick stared her down. "So, we just what? We let him hit her? We let him _kill_ her?"

"No," Deanna shook her head, his latter remarks getting to her. "We exile him, if it comes to that."

"No. No half measures," he said bluntly. "If we exile him, we don't know when he comes back, or what he does to his family. Letting him go makes this place vulnerable."

"We are not -"

"He will come back, Deanna," he said forcefully. "You want to wait until someone in the tower has to take care of him? And that's if we're lucky to catch him first."

"We are not executing anyone!" Deanna snapped, sitting up and squaring her shoulders. "Don't you ever suggest it again! That sort of thinking doesn't belong in here," she concluded, softening her voice ever so slightly.

Rick was unperturbed, though he did share a glance with Michonne before he continued. "People die now, Deanna. They do," he told her as gently as possible. "There are times like this when you can decide who and when…or it can be decided for you."

"It already was," she said lowly, her eyes narrowed as she leant forward. There was a long pause, the two leaders staring one another down, both unwilling to budge. "I would never kill you, Rick…I'd just send you away."

"And I would come back…just like Pete will."

Deanna had no response to this, and just as Rick went to continue he stopped himself. From the corner of his eye he saw Michonne shifting in her chair, the slight movement not made unintentionally. She was telling him to stand down, to let her speak now.

"Let's take a moment to remember our priority here," Michonne began, her tone of voice easing the tension. "Jessie, Ron and Sam are living in an unsafe home. Allowing that to go on? _That_ is the sort of thinking that doesn't belong here," she concluded, using Deanna's own words against her. "Something must be done."

Glaring at Rick for a moment longer, Deanna finally turned to Michonne, her body language softening. "What do you have in mind, Michonne?"

"Exactly what we just told you," she replied, standing her ground and supporting Rick. "We will be separating Pete and Jessie. If he is unwilling to cooperate to our satisfaction, we will handle him as we see fit."

"That -"

"We are not here for your blessing," Michonne cut her off, still diplomatic. "We are here as a courtesy, to keep you informed. You allowed our group to settle here for a reason. You gave Rick and I authority for a reason. You need to trust us to handle this for you, for the community. Frankly, I think we're being very flexible given what you have allowed to happen."

"What I've allowed?" Deanna questioned.

"Yes," Michonne answered. Though her tone was still even tempered, it was clear she wasn't holding back. "You are Alexandria's leader. You've neglected your obligation to Jessie and her children by allowing this violence to continue. Rick and I will be handling this to our satisfaction, with or without your support." There was a short pause as Michonne took a breath. "That said, your support in the matter will be beneficial."

"How so?"

"If you're seen to be on our side, supporting us and what we're enforcing, the whole process will go a lot more smoothly. Your support will mean that no one has to be exiled, no one has to be executed. Your lack of support will only make this harder for all involved…the wider community too."

There was a long pause now, and the tension that Michonne had so briefly eased was back, stronger than ever. Reminding himself to be patient, he chose his next words very carefully.

"A month ago, you gave me your full, unconditional support," he reminded her, casting his mind back to the day they had killed the Wolf, the day he was no longer willing to let complacency continue. "Has that changed?"

Deanna considered this, her eyes cast onto the patio table. "I'm questioning the validity of that agreement."

"Good," he stated, getting to his feet, Michonne doing the same. "You should question it. You should question everything you do. But as for Pete? We will be handling him with or without your support, but your support will be to the community's benefit."

With nothing more to say, Rick and Michonne had departed after that, leaving Deanna to stew in her thoughts, to mull over everything. Though he was sympathetic to her grief, he was also impatient with her…he had been allowed one day to work through his grief for Lori, one day in which he could abandon his responsibilities and do what he needed to do. Nevertheless, he was certain that despite their less than amicable discussion, they would have Deanna's support, at least during the process of separating Pete from his family. He and Michonne had made it very clear what they thought of Deanna's handling of the situation, that they considered her to be neglectful as a leader…Deanna would want to rectify that.

Yawning, Rick looked down at his chest and found that Judith was finally asleep, the very large patch of saliva on his shirt indicating how long she had been working at her teething toy. Checking the time and seeing that it was after five o'clock he decided to take a chance. He held her very carefully as he got up, and he slowly lay her down in the bed where he would normally sleep. Though her eyes fluttered open he swiftly slipped her pacifier into her mouth and stroked her head, marvelling over how long her hair was getting. Making sure she was comfortable, he arranged some pillows and then tucked the blankets beneath the mattress, ensuring that she wouldn't fall out of the bed should she roll over too far…when she was unwell, she tended to sleep restlessly.

Taking a sniff of his shirt, which now smelled of saliva and Orajel, he shrugged it off and headed into the bathroom, casting his eyes over Carl as he passed. His left eye and cheek were bruised and swollen, his lower lip much the same…though he shouldn't, Rick couldn't help but look forward to catching a glimpse of Ron, hoping that he looked the same, if not worse. Completely giving up on getting more sleep, Rick woke himself up with a long, cold shower, mentally rehashing their plan for that day. It had to go well…this was the first step, and he would have to tread carefully.

Reaching for the shaving cream automatically, Rick stopped himself and instead ran his hands over his jaw, feeling the short facial hair that had developed from his laziness over the weekend. He remembered Carrie looking at it yesterday, the way she always ran her hands over it when they kissed. For reasons unknown to him she seemed to like it, to take an interest in observing the way the different lengths changed his face, emphasising different features. While he too noticed the way facial hair changed his appearance, he had also noticed a worrying number grey hairs, particularly on his head. By now he'd stopped pulling them out, vanity no longer something he cared for. But still…he wasn't even forty and he was going grey.

Leaving his razor untouched, he got out of the shower and dressed, reluctantly acknowledging another problem he needed to address now. He and Carrie needed to talk, about more than one thing too. As he dried his hair as best he could and began redressing, he thought back to yesterday when the two of them had been sitting on the front porch, waiting for Carl to come home…it was peaceful moments like those that he looked forward to from their relationship. Sex was fantastic, but it was those quiet moments that he valued, time in which he could be himself with another person. He remembered the look on Carrie's face when he had started talking about cars, and her amusement when she had noted that she hadn't picked him for a car enthusiast. It was only through moments like those that they could share stupid things like that, moments when they could be themselves, even if just for a little while. Valuing their relationship the way he did, he knew that despite his reluctance, he needed to address the problem they faced today…right now, in fact.

Pleased to note that both his children were sleeping soundly, Rick quietly slipped out of his bedroom and went down the hallway to Carrie's. Rather than knocking he gently opened her door and went inside, not knowing whether he'd find her awake or asleep at such an early hour. Closing the door behind him he sighed as he felt a familiar sense of sanctuary, the same type he felt when he occasionally stole Daryl's cigarettes and smoked them on the roof. Carrie's bedroom felt peaceful, particularly so with her sleeping so contentedly. She lay on her side facing the door, her arm resting comfortably on a pillow and her blonde hair mussed up around her face.

Walking around to her side of the bed, he pulled the comforter a little higher up her back and then sat down on the edge of the mattress, and when he noticed her rate of breathing he knew she had been awake since he had stepped inside. Content to let her play possum, he reached out and stroked his fingers through her hair, pulling the strands back off her face and behind her ear. Trailing his hand down her arm, he let it come to rest on the side of her hip as he watched her. In much the same way as he found himself doing with his children he liked to watch Carrie sleeping, particularly when she looked so peaceful like she did today. Yesterday afternoon after they'd had sex he had mentally pushed through the need for a post-sex nap, seeing that for once it was Carrie succumbing to her need.

Wishing that this moment could last forever, Rick dreaded the thought of what was coming today, of what they were going to be doing for Jessie. They were starting slowly, but even that wasn't going to be easy…and Carrie…he was going to need her help in this. Or specifically, Jessie was going to need her help. He hated to get Carrie involved in this whole situation, wishing that he could keep her out of things like this, for he didn't want to burden her with more problems. But Carol was right, and Carrie was going to be very much needed by Jessie over the next few weeks. Mentally rehearsing their plans, Rick wished he could feel satisfied with them, though he knew he would only feel that way when the root problem itself was gone.

"I'm awake, Derrick."

Rick mentally cringed, hating it when she used his full name. "I know," he replied, moving his hand on her hip a little. He didn't bother using her full name, knowing that it didn't annoy her the way it annoyed him.

With a long sigh she slowly turned onto her back and looked up at him, rubbing her eyes as she gave him a small smile. "You coming in?"

She was awfully tempting. "No. But you're coming out."

Snorting at this, Carrie turned back onto her side. "Doubtful. It's barely five thirty in the morning. What are you doing up?"

"I have a one year old daughter."

"Ahh, 'nuff said," she muttered, snuggling back into her pillow. "Get in with me."

"I can't," he apologised. Leaning down, he pulled her hair off her neck and pressed his lips there, breathing in deeply. She smelled so damn good, and her skin was warm to the touch, tempting him. "I have to do rounds…I was hoping you'd come with me."

Having been expecting it, he felt the way she momentarily tensed at this request, though it was only momentary. It hadn't escaped his notice that since the supply run last week, Carrie hadn't gone outside the walls. On one hand it was understandable, for having a cast on her arm was sure to feel like a hindrance, like something that might prevent her from protecting herself. But on the other hand Rick worried for her, fearing that the death's of Noah and Aidan had jolted her confidence, had made her doubt herself. What happened with Nicholas had certainly shaken her, for being let down by someone you trusted was a major blow. But he didn't want her to question herself, to doubt her ability to look after herself…seeing her self-confinement inside the walls was hard for him, for he knew she was like him. They were grateful for the walls, never failing to acknowledge the life they provided to those living inside them, but at the same time they were practically suffocating. People like he and Carrie were not content to be confined, they needed to get outside, to have space.

"Come on," he encouraged when she didn't reply. "Come do rounds with me."

There was a long pause, Carrie mulling over his request. "Okay…get into bed with me. Just five minutes."

Rick smiled, having fully expected a negotiation. He knew her well. "Alright, but don't try to take advantage of me."

"Can't make any promises," she giggled lightly.

That sound was like music to his ears, needing to hear her sounding happy, and so when she told him to ditch his jeans, he did so without complaint. Rather than going around to his unofficial side, he pulled back the comforter and slipped in behind her, and when she moved over to give him more room he sighed happily. It was warm where she had been laying, and the pillow where she had been resting her head smelled like her. Settling against her back he put his arm around her side, being careful to not jostle her broken wrist. As the two of them got comfortable Carrie wriggled around a little, making a point of rubbing her ass back against his hips. She knew exactly what she was doing, and he swore he could feel her laughing silently when his body began to respond. Kissing the back of her neck, he tried not to think about how good it felt pressing himself against her ass, although that was easier said than done.

"You going to let me take care of that?"

"No," he said firmly, scrounging for all the self control he possessed. "We have to do rounds."

She turned her head a little as if she hadn't heard him properly. "Are you serious? You actually want me to come with you?"

"Why wouldn't I?"

"But it's five thirty in the morning…I'm warm."

"I know," he agreed, kissing her shoulder now. "You're very warm."

"It's barely light out."

He chuckled to himself, enjoying the way she tried to protest, for he knew it had less to do with genuine reluctance to go outside, and more to do with wanting to stay in bed. "Mmmmm, by the time we get dressed, maybe have a bite to eat, the sun will be up."

Pulling out all the stops, Carrie took his hand in hers and guided it underneath the hem of her shirt, nonchalantly placing it on her breast. "Okay then…well if you insist we get up."

Not looking a gift horse in the mouth, Rick didn't say anything, and for now he was satisfied with her train of thought. As she took her hand away but left his he happily cupped her breast in his whole hand, making sure he got to stroke as much of it as possible. Like the rest of her body, the skin on her breast was warm and soft to the touch, a definite enticement to make him stay there in the bed with her. With the way he was pressed against her back, there was no way he couldn't think about the previous afternoon, the first time since the death of Noah and Aidan that they'd slept together. After she'd recovered from the majority of her injuries, they'd finally been able to find some time together, Rick all but begging Michonne and Carol to make themselves scarce.

Laying with Carrie as he did now, he remembered the way making himself vulnerable to her during sex made his love for her all the more intense. He knew she'd felt it too, the emotions written clearly across her face. Though they'd been wanting it for days by then, it wasn't simply sex, not just means to an end. Rather than pretending to share nothing more than a platonic friendship, now they could truly be themselves, they could relax a little and let their guard down with each other. The simple act of telling her that he loved her had brought about the direction that they both wanted, and they were finally getting what they needed out of this relationship. The fact that they were in love now…that she returned his feelings for her…it blew Rick away. Being totally honest with himself, he knew he hadn't expected to feel anything like this again…the notion hadn't even crossed his mind.

After what had happened with Lori, with how he had punished her for turning away when he most needed her, a part of him had felt like he wasn't deserving of such happiness again, at least not what he had found with Carrie. It would have been his own punishment, his penance for not forgiving Lori sooner, for not appreciating everything he had. But despite all of that, despite everything he had done and how dramatically he had changed from who he used to be, he'd found love when he least expected it. As he sat next to Carrie that afternoon while he waited for her to awaken, he knew then that it was time to tell Carl…that he wanted to tell him. Hell, to Rick's own surprise he wanted everyone to know…the whole god damn world needed to they'd know he'd fallen in love again.

"Carrie," he started, needing her attention.

There was a short pause before she answered. "Don't burst the bubble," she mumbled sleepily.

"The bubble?"

"Yes, the bubble we're in right now."

He smiled, removing his hand from her breast and then ushering her to turn over. She did so reluctantly, most likely knowing what he was going to say, what topic he was going to bring up. When she looked up at him with apprehension, he apologised for what he was about to say by kissing her sweetly. Neither of them caring about morning breath they kissed languidly, enjoying their time alone while ever they had it.

"What is it?" she reluctantly asked. She seemed apprehensive, her narrowed eyes hiding what was left of the damaged blood vessels in her inner eye.

Sighing, he propped himself up on his elbow and looked down at her, amused to see that she was wearing her I Love New York tee-shirt, one she'd found when scavenging through cars with the run crew. "Did Carol and Michonne talk to you last night?"

Knowing this was where the conversation had been heading, Carrie nodded slowly. "I got the cliff notes. Everything I needed to know, and nothing I didn't."

"Good," he said shortly, mentally bracing himself for what he said next. "Thing is, this thing with Jessie and Pete? It's going to be difficult for Carl. He cares about Jessie a lot…he's worried about her."

"Of course he is."

"What happened with Ron isn't going to blow over, not now that I'll be stepping in between his parents…he'll take it out on Carl. And with Noah, I'm-"

"Stop," she whispered, cutting him off. "I know what you're getting at."

"You do?"

"Yes. I know you're worried about Carl having too much to handle…we shouldn't tell him about us yet."

He felt a surge of relief, grateful that they were on the same page, despite her obvious disappointment. Sharing the same disappointment, he nodded in agreement. "Thank you," he said sincerely. "I'm sorry," he added. "I want to tell him, I do."

"I know you do."

"We will tell him," he insisted, grateful for her understanding. "It just…it needs to be the right time."

It seemed his final remark didn't sit completely well with Carrie, her brow furrowing a little. "Rick, there might not be a right time. You know that, don't you?"

He hesitated, glancing away for a moment before looking back. "Yeah, I know," he said, his tone almost dismissive.

"I'm serious. The longer we go on without telling him, especially now that our relationships means something, the worse it will be if he finds out the wrong way."

She was right…worst of all, she was voicing the very same thoughts that had already occurred to him, thoughts too awful for him to consider. He had to make sure that Carl didn't find out about this the wrong way. His concern about telling Carl stemmed from wanting to make it right, from wanting to be able to take the time necessary to talk to him, to let him digest the news and come around to it. There was no doubt in his mind that while Carl might struggle with it at first, overall he'd take the news well. But if he found out the wrong way, if he learned that Rick had been outright lying to him, it would be bad. Sitting up with a long sigh, he rubbed his forehead, glad when Carrie sat up too. She put her hand on his knee and rested her head on his shoulder, but did nothing more than that.

"He misses Lori…more so now that we're living a relatively normal life. I just want this to go well for him. For all of us."

"So do I, but Rick," she said, making him look at her. "If things don't settle down soon, we have to tell him anyway. We can't drag this out, that would only hurt him."

"We won't drag it out, I promise."

There was a pause, the two of them looking at each other and coming to a new understanding. For Carl's sake, they would delay telling him for now, but they couldn't delay for long. Feeling the moment calling for it, Rick turned to properly face her, kissing her on the cheek. "I love you."

She smiled at this, not yet tired of hearing it. "I love you, too."

He allowed them one moment longer, but like they always did, the tasks of that day lingered in the back of his mind, reminding himself of what he needed to ask of her, of why he wanted her to come on rounds with him. Looking at her affectionately, his eyes crinkling as he looked at her mussed up hair, he tried to smooth it down before reluctantly turning serious. Moments like these would not last until they had handled the problems elsewhere…those problems had to addressed today.

"I'm going to need your help with Jessie."

* * *

Sitting in her bedroom Carrie put her feet up on the window sill and looked outside to the gardens, watching the two figures down there very closely. As soon as Sam had come from from school at midday he'd gone about his usual routine of coming over to say hello to Carol, but only this time Carol didn't greet him with thinly veiled annoyance. The two of them had been out there for half an hour now, weeding the garden beds where they were growing carrots, but Carrie knew that weeds were not their only focus.

Sighing, she stopped watching them and turned back to her book, but still she could not concentrate. Ever since last night when Carol told her what was going on, that Pete was physically abusing Jessie, she'd been dying to know the details, to know exactly what was going on. This desire didn't stem from morbid curiosity, or from a hidden love for gossip, but from concern…if Jessie was in trouble, then she needed help. Carrie wanted to help her, she wanted to do whatever she could to keep her safe…it wasn't until that morning that she felt better about the whole thing.

She knew of course that Rick was going to handle the situation, that there was no way in hell he'd let domestic violence fly under the radar, but what had surprised her was that he came to her for help. When they'd gone on rounds together that morning he'd laid out their entire plan, he'd told her everything he knew already, and everything he was still trying to find out…and he needed her help. In comparison to what he and the others would be taking on Carrie's job was relatively simple, but according to Rick it would make all the difference in how this would play out, in how well Jessie was going to cope.

"Jessie is going to need a friend," he told her, the two of them walking hand in hand around the exterior of the walls. "I'm asking her to leave her husband, to give up on the hope that he'll change. That's going to devastate her."

"I…I just don't know if I can help her," Carrie had replied uncertainly, not wanting to make anything worse. "I have no idea what she's going through. I've got no experience with domestic violence, none."

"That doesn't matter. Jessie won't need you to be an expert, she's got me for that. What most women in her situation don't have is someone they can depend on, someone who will listen," he said imperatively. "Someone on her side, who listens to what she has to say, to what she wants."

"Won't you be doing that too?"

"Of course…but I'll have an agenda, which is protecting her. Doing that means that I can't give her what she wants. You need to be there for her, to be someone she can lean on through this whole process. That is what's going to make a difference, that's what's going to make her feel strong, to give her courage to do this, and to stick to it." Pausing, he looked her in the eye to convey how important this was. "My job is the hard one, forcing her to kick her husband out, to not let him come back. You're job is the important one, which is to make sure she's strong enough to do it."

"I understand," she nodded, squeezing his hand. "If this is what you need me to do, then I'll do it."

Giving up on concentrating on her book, Carrie raised her head and looked out the window again, observing Carol and Sam as they worked. Was this the reason Sam was hardly ever home? While on the surface he'd always appeared to be a happy child, she couldn't help but wonder if he took such interest in Carol because she was similar to Jessie. For all her annoyance with Sam, Carol came across as very maternal…perhaps when things were bad at home, that was when he sought out Carol. Looking at the two of them in the gardens, she knew Carol would be talking to him about his home life, getting more information before Rick made the first move that afternoon. Sam was their only source of information right now. They knew better than to try talking to Ron…Carl's face was a testament to how unwilling he was to talk about it.

Hearing the sound of someone on the staircase, Carrie turned and looked through her open bedroom door, watching the hallway to see who it was, even though she thought she recognised their footfall. She smiled as Rick emerged from the stairs looked down the hallway at her, then he turned and came towards her, revealing Judith on his hip.

"Hey," he greeted her softly, standing in the threshold of her bedroom and leaning against the door frame. "You alright?"

"Do I not look it?"

He seemed to consider this for a moment. "You look worried."

"I am," she admitted, thinking about what she would be doing very soon, what they'd both be doing.

"Me too," he agreed, much to her surprise.

Though she was glad he shared her concerns, Carrie didn't say anything, her attention focused on Judith. Her cheeks were pink and her chin shining with saliva, and she sniffled miserably as she chewed on a green teething toy. "Is she okay?"

Rick nodded, looking down at his daughter fondly. "She's got a molar coming through…should be any day now," he said, stroking her scalp and kissing her forehead. "That means lots of whining, and lots of cuddles."

"She's getting so big," Carrie commented, looking at Judith's blonde hair. The curly locks were getting thicker and longer, as was the rest of her. Carol had commented the other day that she'd gone through quite the growth spurt, and now that she was looking at her properly Carrie could see it too. Her legs seemed longer and leaner, her cheeks a little less round and chubby these days.

"Yes, she is," Rick agreed, sighing now. "I'm just putting her down for a nap. It's a bit early, but she needs it."

Without further ado, Rick headed back to his bedroom, Judith looking over his shoulder at Carrie as they departed. Watching them go she couldn't help but feel a twinge of worry in her belly, but this one was not for Jessie, but for herself. Now that things were getting serious with Rick, so serious that they were going to tell Carl soon, she was going to have to try a little harder to get to know Judith. She'd been living with Rick's children for over two months now, but despite this her interactions with the little girl had been minimal at best, and she was too proud to admit that Judith scared her…all babies and young children did.

Her interactions with Judith were superficial at best. Carrie wasn't like the others in the group, she wasn't one who could soothe a bump on Judith's knee, who could play with her and interpret every little thing she tried to say. Seeing the others interacting with her only made her feel even more incompetent, because for them it came so naturally…it didn't come naturally to her at all. She knew she shouldn't be so hard on herself, for these people had known Judith since she was born, but that didn't make it any easier for her. Now that she and Rick were getting serious she needed to step up…she hated that he might think she didn't care enough to try, or even worse, that she wasn't a suitable parent.

Carrie immediately shook off this latter thought…she was far from Judith's mom, and she wasn't naive enough to even try replacing Lori. He wasn't looking for her to replace the mother of his children, he wasn't trying to replace anything missing in his life. They'd fallen in love, and it was as simple as that…so why was she so worried about Judith?

Giving a long sigh, Carrie shifted in her chair and tried to get comfortable, crossing her ankles as they rested on the window sill. Looking outside yet again, she watched Sam and Carol for a few moments before turning back to her book, remembering that Rick had been reading it yesterday while he waited for her to wake up. Ever considerate, he hadn't disturbed the placement of her book mark, and she wondered how far through he was…after all, she'd borrowed it from his nightstand last week and had yet to return it. She got the feeling he didn't mind all that much. Trying to get back into the flow of the book, she forced herself to concentrate solely on reading a few sentences, but the plot itself didn't exactly help distract her. It was a crime thriller…a typical cop book.

Unable not to, she started thinking about Rick again, her eyes darting over to the bed where they had laid together that morning. When he'd come in and asked her to join him on rounds, he'd made the mistake of letting her convince him to join her for five minutes. While she'd intended to coax him into morning sex, it was soon clear that there were other things on his mind, that despite the opportunity it was not the time. They'd gotten to talking, first about Carl, and then about Jessie, and it was then that they'd gone outside the walls to make rounds. He'd told her about everything that morning, not just the importance of her being there for Jessie. Everything had been laid out to handle this problem…everyone involved knew their roles, they knew when to step in and when to back off…the plan looked promising.

Despite how promising it looked, Carrie knew that this was not what Rick wanted to happen, this was not his preferred choice. Their plan at the moment was to slowly work with Jessie, to gain her trust and then empower her to kick Pete out of the house. Until she was ready to do that, nothing would work the way it needed to. The whole plan depended on Jessie, on her strength and courage to let Rick step in and make Pete stay away from her. But regardless of how promising the plan looked, Carrie knew it wasn't Rick wanted. She knew him well…he didn't like to take chances, and that was exactly what they were doing right now. The plan depended on Jessie, on a woman whose husband has been abusing and manipulating her for probably a very long time.

Rick would want to deal with the problem itself, not to push it aside and hope it stayed away. He wants Pete gone, Carrie could feel it, and by gone she meant dead. He didn't need to tell her this, he didn't even need to hint it, she just knew. She had considered bringing it up while they were outside that morning, acknowledging what it was he really wanted to do, but she had held herself back. His preference to kill rather than give the benefit of the doubt had been a dividing factor between them from the very start…and he was right about it too, that's what was difficult for Carrie. Even months after the supply run, months after their argument about killing rather than giving the benefit of the doubt, Carrie still hadn't quite come around to it.

The whole notion felt like a thorn on her side, a difference of opinion that had come up again. When they'd seen that man with the W outside the walls, the Wolf as they called them now, Rick had called for him to be shot on sight…hell, he'd asked Carl to do it. He was unwilling to take the chance that the Wolf would get away and return to the rest of his group, and it had been the right call, there was no debating that, not even to Carrie…but it still made her uncomfortable. Shoot first, ask questions later…that was life now, that was protecting yourself. Rick knew that, he understood that…Carrie was still getting there.

It had been a long time since they'd discussed this openly, since they'd addressed the major difference between them. By now it felt like the elephant in the room, though thankfully it wasn't something that came up often. In fact, this was the first time in a while that she'd really thought about it. But now with Pete, and with Rick's preference to kill him rather than take the chance of him hurting Jessie again, it was sure to come up at some stage. Dwelling on it all, she recalled the first argument they'd had on this topic, barely half an hour after they'd been set upon by one of the men who had raped her, Granger. Rick hadn't held back, he'd told how it was these days, and he'd refused to apologise for killing the rest of Grangers new group, despite their likely innocence.

 _"…you're part of a group that includes my children. One day, you're going to have to kill for them."_

At the time Rick's words had been meaningful, but not as meaningful as they were now. That argument had been months ago, and now that she was living in Alexandria and had settled back into normal life she better understood where he was coming from, what it was he was protecting. While of course she would kill in order to protect his children, she better understood why he was so determined to not give the benefit of the doubt, to shoot first and ask questions later. In one respect, Carrie agreed with Rick's desire to kill Pete rather than give him a chance…but in another respect, they needed Pete too much. Killing him in itself was a major risk for the community, because how would they cope without their best doctor, without Pete's surgical skills? Though she hadn't heard anything concrete, Carrie thought she might have heard Maggie's name coming up in hushed discussion between Michonne and Carol last night, and their concern for her was evident. Was something wrong with Maggie and the baby? Was that the reason Rick seemed so determined to make this plan work, even though it wasn't what he wanted?

A knock on her door startled Carrie from her thoughts, and she looked up to see Carol standing there. Surprised to see her, Carrie lowered her book. "Where's Sam?"

"He's gone home," she answered, picking dirt from under her fingernails. "We've finished weeding the gardens."

"Did you get what you need from him?"

Carol nodded, taking a long sigh before folding her arms. "It's time…you're up. Tara's gone to see Pete, she's faking a headache. He just left for the Infirmary."

"Okay," she nodded, stifling her sudden bout of nerves. "Rick?"

"I'll fill him in on what Sam said. He'll come and join you in about twenty minutes…enough time for Jessie to get started with you."

Without time to waste Carol left it at that and then departed, heading down the hallway and letting herself into Rick's bedroom without knocking. With her moment here Carrie set aside her book and got to her feet, hunting around for the pair of flip flops that would be suitable for the warmth of the afternoon. She couldn't help but wonder if Carol knew about the change in her relationship with Rick, if she knew how serious it had become. It would be a surprise if she didn't, for Carol seemed to see and hear a little of everything that went on in this community. Gaining Carol's approval in general didn't mean she had her approval regarding her relationship with Rick, and this worried Carrie almost as much as getting Carl's approval. Carol and Rick had been together since the day he had been reunited with Lori and Carl…they were practically siblings with the depth of how they cared and looked out for each other, Carol in particular. About a month ago she and Carol had a late night discussion unbeknownst to Rick, one in which Carol had warned her not to lead him on, to not get in between he and his children. She suspected that although Carol had accepted her as a member of their family, she'd continue to be protective of Rick.

Ready to depart, Carrie headed for the stairs, but slowed to a stop as she reached the doors to the main bedroom. The doors were open, and she looked in to see Rick sitting back in the rocking chair with Judith sprawled out across his chest, Carol sitting opposite him on the bed. They had been talking quietly, but looked up the moment they noticed Carrie.

"I'm heading over now," she said.

"Good luck," Carol wished her, her tone supportive.

Not wasting any time, for there was only so long they could occupy Pete in the Infirmary, Carrie quickly left. Managing her nerves, she paused only long enough to take a drink of water in the kitchen before she departed, and she intentionally left her gun in the safe rather than take it with her. Leaving the house, she took a deep breath of fresh air and enjoyed the way the sun shone on her face, remembering how good it felt to leave the walls that morning. She hadn't been out at all since she had broken her wrist on the supply run, and she'd forgotten how much she liked it out there. Walking hand in hand with Rick also contributed to her enjoyment that morning. They hadn't stopped at the RV, and needing to be alert meant they couldn't indulge in anything more than a brief kiss, but it had been nice doing something as simple as taking a walk together, despite the less than enjoyable topic of conversation.

When she reached Jessie's house she took a deep breath before knocking on her red door. Having been expecting her, for this was something they'd arranged days ago, Jessie was there in an instant to open the door.

"Your canvas awaits," Carrie smiled, holding up her plain white plaster cast.

Jessie was practically beaming, and Carrie knew it wasn't just a facade she put on to hide the reality of her life…she was genuinely excited. "I'm so glad you let me do this for you," she said, welcoming Carrie inside. "It's been a while since I've done any painting, I've been mainly working on my sculpture. Coffee? Scone?"

"Yes, please," she said eagerly, knowing all too well how good Jessie's scones were.

Directing Carrie into the dining room, Jessie showed her a small folder of sketches and paint colours, telling her to flick through and see what inspired her. Insisting she didn't need help, Jessie bustled around in the kitchen and left Carrie to look through the folder, but she wasn't paying it much attention. Instead she looked around the house, almost as if she was going to find evidence of domestic violence, some indication that the man who lived there terrorised his family. But Jessie's home looked just like it always did. Cluttered with knick knacks, sculptures and art tools, but clean and orderly like it always was. Sam's drawings were on the fridge, and Ron's skateboard and beanie had been dumped in the corner…it all looked perfectly normal, which was what frightened Carrie the most. This abuse had been going on for years…no one had noticed.

Even though she shouldn't feel bad for not noticing something that was intentionally hidden, it felt neglectful that no one had noticed what was going on, like they'd let her and her boys down. Dwelling on this, Carrie's determination to help Jessie only grew. She trusted Rick, she'd follow his lead and be there for Jessie, but she was determined to make sure that this all worked out for her.

"So, do you have anything in mind?" Jessie asked, bringing a tray laden with coffee and scones over. Peering at her cast, she tilted her head and scrutinised it. "It's got a nice smooth finish on it, that will make it easier to paint."

"Well, I was thinking about that painting you did for Judith? The owls in the tree?"

"You like that?"

"I love it," she praised, turning to her cast. "I was thinking maybe the owl sitting on a tree branch, and then some leaves where people can sign their names."

"They've been hassling you to sign your cast, haven't they," Jessie smiled, pouring Carrie some coffee and setting it on the table for her. "Well that sounds easy enough…just one owl? You don't want two? Not even an owl should be alone these days."

Carrie shrugged, unconcerned. "Whatever you please, I don't mind."

"What about colours?" she continued, starting to flick through the folder to show her some sample combinations. "These are the colours I did for Judy. I didn't want to make hers too feminine, because I knew she shares a bedroom with Rick and Carl, but I can do whatever colours you like."

"These ones are fine. Rick likes her painting, he hung it above her crib."

"Did he? I'm glad he liked it. Alright then," she began, getting the area set up. Placing a pillow on the table, she lay an old rag across it and then had Carrie rest her arm there. "If you need a break, just let me know and I can give you back your arm," she said, beginning to sketch an outline.

"Got it, thanks," she smiled, adjusting her chair's position until she was most comfortable. There was an easy silence as Jessie sketched the tree, branches and location of the owls, and Carrie had to resist the urge to ask her how things were going. It wasn't her job to try and bring up the problems she was experiencing, that was Rick's. Instead, she chose a different route of conversation. "Have you always been artistic?"

"Yeah," Jessie smiled, glancing up at her as she set the pencil aside and started mixing some paint. "I was always scribbling away as a kid, usually on the walls according to my mom. Then I got one of those colour by numbers books, but I never liked what the picture was meant to look like…I could just see what I wanted it to be. What about you?" she asked, dabbing a small sponge in the light blue paint. "You worked in advertising. You must have been pretty creative, right?"

Carrie gave a short laugh, wishing that had been the case. "Actually, no, creativity was not my strong point. I liked the business side of things, I was a client service manager…we had copywriters and artists to do the creative things."

Jessie smiled at this, beginning to dab the light blue paint onto the cast, creating the sky background of her master piece. "I used to help out college students with their coursework, mainly film students. I'd sketch their storyboards for them, make a little money. Not much of course, they didn't have much to pay me with, but it gave me something to do when my boys were little, and I could do it from home."

"You went to Art School in Washington, right?"

"Yeah, that's where I met Pete."

Carrie looked up in surprise. "Really? Pete went to art school?"

Jessie smiled. "That always gets an amusing reaction. Pete does amazing drawings," she practically gushed. "He had dozens of sketchbooks back home, just filled with everything. He used to do the most beautiful watercolour paintings too. I wish he would get back into it now that we're living here, but I think he's lost his passion for it."

"That's so surprising…I had no idea he went to art school. Why did he switch to medicine?"

"Well, when I fell pregnant with Ron and we decided to get married, he was already thinking about it. He just couldn't decide whether he'd stay in art school, or switch to medicine. I think impending fatherhood scared him a little, and so he went into medicine for the money. Don't get me wrong, he loved being a surgeon…but he never stopped sketching."

The conversation lapsed into comfortable silence, and though Jessie was content concentrating on painting the cast, Carrie's head was all over the place. Hearing Jessie talk about Pete like that, with a sense of adoration for his talents…it was kind of strange, given that she knew what really went on. It was sad, too. Despite knowing that Carl must have told Rick what he had over heard, despite knowing that at any second it was all going to come out, Jessie was still holding on to the facade she had put in place. Worse still was something that Rick had said to her that morning…he'd reminded her to be understanding of Jessie's struggle. Even though Pete abused her and their children, she still loved him, she would still want to make their marriage work. Given what Jessie had just told her, and her apparent adoration of her husband, Carrie knew this wasn't going to be easy.

As Jessie finished the blue background and stated mixing some other paint, Carrie held her cast up in front of a fan, trying to get the paint as dry as possible. She watched Jessie from the corner of her eye, observing the way she fluttered around, rifling through her supplies for the exact shade of brown she was looking for, then for the right paintbrush. It seemed so strange that she could hide what was happening to her, that she simply got up each day and carried on with her life, and Carrie had to admire her strength to do that. She wished she could understand how Jessie did it, for surely that would enable Carrie to help her better…that was one of her fears about the whole situation, that she would fail as a friend to help Jessie. Rick said her job was perhaps the most important, that her friendship and support with empower Jessie to do what was necessary, to give up on her marriage and kick Pete out…what if Carrie failed to give her the support she needed?

"Everything okay?" Jessie asked in concern, tilting her head as she looked at her. "You seem sad."

Caught unaware Carrie struggled to answer, but thankfully Jessie seemed to come to her own conclusions.

"Of course," she began apologetically, shaking her head as she sat down and removed a paint brush from behind her ear. Dabbing it into the brown paint, she began work on the trees and branches. "I'm sorry, I should have realised. Noah."

Carrie hadn't been thinking about him, her concerns for Jessie's welfare forcing her grief for him to be set aside, but the sudden mention of his name brought it crashing back. Feeling her throat tighten, she smiled awkwardly, trying not to let her eyes well up.

"I'm used to losing people," she replied softly, turning her eyes to the cast. Jessie's brush strokes were methodical and well planned, but there was a certain amount of whimsy to her approach. Each stroke no matter how smooth and delicate, always ended with a flourish. "Noah was just…really young. He wasn't even twenty."

"I'm sorry you're going through this," Jessie said kindly. "I know I can't do anything to change what happened, but if I can help then I'm here for you."

The impact of these words was not lost on Carrie, particularly in the context of what Jessie herself was going through, the struggle she was so intent on hiding. Jessie was the only Alexandrian who had ever made an effort to be a genuine friend to her, the only one who hadn't judged her, who hadn't tried to assume they understood. Despite everything she was going through, Jessie wasn't thinking about herself, she was still trying to help others, even if she didn't know how. This was the reason Carrie was so determined to help her in return, and so fearful that she would fail.

"Stop," she whispered, gesturing to the paintbrush in Jessie's hand.

"Oh, is it hurting?" she asked in concern, pulling back and setting her brush aside. "You get comfortable however you need, I can -"

Standing up, Carrie made sure to hold her cast with the wet paint out to her side, not wanting to ruin Jessie's work. Without being asked, Jessie stood up too, her eyes wide and full of concern, not really understanding what was going through Carrie's head, perhaps having no idea what was about to happen to her own family. Using only her good arm Carrie embraced her, grateful when Jessie returned it without hesitation.

"Thanks, Jessie," she whispered, still trying to hold back her emotions. "It means a lot."

"Of course," Jessie whispered back. "Anything you need, I'm here, okay?"

"I know…same here. You mean a lot to me."

Jessie sighed, still not understanding. "It's going to be okay, Carrie," she said, tightening their embrace. "I promise."

Hearing the front door open without warning Carrie broke away from Jessie, though she was not alarmed. Hastily wiping at her wet eyes, she looked over her shoulder to see Rick entering the house, not knocking or wait for an invitation. His body language serious and solemn, he simply closed the door behind him and shared a glance with Carrie, perhaps wondering why the two women were hugging. Knowing that this was the moment, she turned back to Jessie, seeing the realisation on her face. She was looking at Rick with apprehension, for she knew what was coming, she knew now what this was.

Taking her hand, Carrie squeezed it until she looked her in the eye. "It's going to be okay, Jessie. I promise."

* * *

A/N Hey readers, I hope you enjoyed. Please read and review. Oh, and it's a month to go until Season 7!


	34. Chapter 34

_Hearing the front door open without warning, Carrie broke away from Jessie, though she was not alarmed. Hastily wiping at her wet eyes, she looked over her shoulder to see Rick entering the house, not knocking or wait for an invitation. His body language serious and solemn, he simply closed the door behind him and shared a glance with Carrie, perhaps wondering why the two women were hugging. Knowing that this was the moment, she turned back to Jessie, seeing the realisation on her face. She was looking at Rick with apprehension, for she knew what was coming, she knew now what this was._

 _Taking her hand, Carrie squeezed it until she looked her in the eye. "It's going to be okay, Jessie. I promise."_

* * *

There was an awkward pause, Jessie's expression turning stony as she turned back to Carrie. "What's going on?" she asked expectantly, her voice so soft on Carrie could hear her.

"Jessie, we need to talk," Rick began seriously, not wasting any time. "You know why I'm here."

Tearing her hand out of Carrie's, Jessie started forward angrily. "No, you need to leave," she said forcefully.

"I'm not leaving."

"You have to go, now!" she hissed.

"No," Rick shook his head, looking her in the eye and showing how serious he was. "I've made sure Pete's occupied. I can't leave until we've talked."

Jessie shook her head, not wanting to hear it. "You're just going to make things worse. I want you to -."

"I know Deanna let you down," Rick told her, his voice softening. "I know you went to her for help, and she let you down."

"No," Jessie shook her head again. "That's not true, she-"

"She let you down. She promised to help you, and then she let you down," Rick continued. There was a short pause, Rick waiting until she was looking at him again. "Jessie, I will not let you down."

Her whole body shaking, Jessie took an unsteady breath as she turned and looked out the window towards the Infirmary. "I'm not asking for your help," she said solidly, trying to be forceful. "I want you to go….now."

"I can't," he stated simply. "I won't."

There was a long pause, and Jessie suddenly looked over at Carrie, a flicker of accusation in her eyes, of betrayal. She felt terribly that they were confronting her like this, that they couldn't take a more sensitive approach, but they were pressed for time. The fewer opportunities Pete had to terrorise his family, the better. Jessie looked away again before Carrie could say or do anything, and her eyes were on the floor when she spoke next.

"Does it have to be now?" she asked, her voice becoming small and uncertain.

"Yes. Right now."

There was a long pause now, Jessie slowly coming around to the unexpected confrontation. "Can I just…" she began, clearing her throat before looking up at Rick. "Can I just have a minute?"

Considering her request he nodded slowly, giving his agreement. Without another word, Jessie turned away from both of them and all but fled the living room, disappearing down the short hall that led to the back of the house. Carrie listened for the sound of her footsteps on the stairs, but when they heard only a door opening Rick followed her. Standing by the microwave he sighed as he looked in the direction Jessie had disappeared, but he didn't seem alarmed.

"She's having a cigarette," he said quietly. Clearly intending to linger there and wait he looked back at Carrie. "You good?"

She nodded, even though she was nervous as hell, worried about how well this conversation was going to go. It hadn't exactly gotten off to the best start.

"That went better than I expected," he remarked softly, completely contradicting everything Carrie had just thought.

"Really?"

He nodded. "She didn't deny it, and she's willing to listen. It's a good start in cases like these."

"You have many cases like this?" she enquired, wondering how often he had to handle things like this as a police officer.

"More than I thought I would. For a small town, a few people kept us busy."

"Wasn't there anything you could do?"

"Sometimes," he remarked softly, his tone darkening. "I sure as hell couldn't barge into someone's home like this and force them to do what I wanted."

"That must have been frustrating."

He looked up at her as though surprised she'd note this. "Yeah, it was."

Taking a deep breath, Carrie looked out the dining room window towards the Infirmary, making sure Pete wasn't returning sooner than they expected. "Do you think Jessie will let you help her?"

"Yes, she will."

"How do you know?"

"Because I'm not giving her an option where she can say no."

Trusting his judgement, Carrie didn't question this out loud. As they waited for Jessie to return, she kept watch through the window, paranoid that Pete would come back unexpectedly and ruin their efforts, or worse, that he'd catch them. God…if this was how nervous Carrie felt now, how did Jessie feel every day of her life? Thankfully, Jessie returned a short while later, and when she did she seemed calm and collected, and she cleared her throat as she came back into the kitchen.

"Do you want some coffee, Rick?"

"No, thank you."

Jessie nodded, and there was an awkward moment as she looked between he and Carrie, apparently unsure of what to do now. "Carrie, I should…" she started, removing the paint brush from behind her ear. "I should finish your cast while we talk."

Figuring that perhaps Jessie needed something to do with her hands, something to focus on while they talked, Carrie returned to her seat at the dining table, Rick and Jessie following. While Rick sat down where Jessie indicated, she on the other hand seemed to wander around for a few moments, perhaps still trying to orient herself, to remember what she had been doing before. Finally she resumed her seat and dipped the paintbrush back into the brown paint. Though she was trembling, the moment her brush touched the cast her hands steadied, her brush strokes smooth and steady as she resumed her work on the tree trunk and branches. Her silence indicated that she was waiting for Rick to start.

"How long has he been abusing you?" Rick began, his tone kind and without judgement.

"That doesn't matter," Jessie replied, her voice softer than Carrie had expected.

"It has to stop. That's why I'm here."

Jessie shook her head at this, but her eyes never left the cast. "It will stop…I can help him. I can fix it."

"No, you can't," he rebuked her gently. "It doesn't work like that Jessie, we both know it doesn't."

"Pete and I have been through this before. I've helped him, and things got better," she continued insistently. "It will happen again."

"Yes, you're right…it will happen again," he said, using her own words against her. "You cannot fix him. He is who he is, nothing will change that."

"And what are you going to do?" she challenged, glancing up. "Huh? You going to put him in jail?"

"I -"

"You're only going to make things worse."

There was a short pause, and Carrie looked to Rick, recognising that he was restraining himself, choosing his words carefully. "If it gets worse, that means he's killed you. That's what happens next, Jessie. I know it's come close to that before."

"No," she denied quickly, looking back down. "It hasn't. It's not that bad."

"I know it has…Sam told us."

At this remark Jessie's paint brush slipped, a streak of brown entering the blue sky. "Shit," she muttered, her voice wavering as her lips trembled. Grabbing a clean sponge she hastily dabbed at the brown streak, cleaning it up. "Sorry, Carrie," she tried to laugh. "I'll fix it."

"Jessie," Rick intervened, not letting her avoid the topic. "Sam told us a lot."

"Us? Who is us?" she demanded, suddenly getting angry.

"Carol…he's told Carol a lot, and he's afraid. He told her everything he's seen Pete do to you, everything he's done to Ron, to him. He chokes you, doesn't he?"

At this, Jessie's anger dissipated, and she quickly turned back to the cast, smooth strokes of her paint brush filling in the tree branches. "No," she denied.

"He does that because he wants ultimate control of you," Rick continued, not believing her. "He wants to control every breath you take. He's literally taking your life into his hands, making you powerless. He's telling you that he has the power to kill you."

Carrie shifted uncomfortably in her seat, this description getting to her. What he said was frighteningly true, reminding her of her own experience of being choked. One of Granger's group, Victor…he had liked doing that to her, he had enjoyed having that power over her, the absolute control. She'd never forget the helplessness and terror she felt, of looking up at someone who took such delight in her struggles. Looking at Jessie, imaging her going through the same thing at the hands of someone she loved and trusted, Carrie's nervousness and worry turned into anger. How could Pete do this to her? And how could Deanna know about it, and do nothing?

"You're making it sound worse than it is," Jessie said defensively. "Really, you are."

"Sam told us that a month ago he found you unconscious."

"No," she denied automatically. "He didn't."

"He wouldn't make that up. It was the day that we shot that Wolf, wasn't it?" Rick pressed. "The day Pete came home in a rage, because I wouldn't let him save that man." She didn't reply to this, her silence the only admission Rick needed. "He was mad at me…but instead of handling it like an adult, he came home and he attacked you."

Jessie said nothing in response, but her lower lip trembled for a moment as she focused her eyes on Carrie's cast. Changing to a clean brush she continued working on the tree trunk and branches, texturing the paint and making it look like bark. Her concentration was focused solely on her task, on the artwork she was creating. The result of this was something she could control…other aspects of her life she could not control. It seemed that she had nothing more to say for now, and taking note of this, Rick continued talking.

"Something that keeps me up at night is the idea that I'm responsible for the type of man my son becomes," he began, sitting back in his chair and just talking, knowing that Jessie was listening. "I'm responsible for teaching him how to behave, what's expected of him as a person, and he's learning these things from me without either of us even knowing. Pete is responsible for the same thing with Ron and Sam, but he's teaching them things that I know you don't want them learning. He's teaching them how to relate to women, how to treat their family, how to handle their emotions…I know you don't want them believing that the way he treats you is acceptable."

"Of course not," she finally answered, her shoulders tense.

"A week ago, Carol caught Sam trying to get into our gun safe, the one by the front door."

Jessie gave a small gasp, her expression automatically turning apologetic. "Oh, Rick, I'm so sor-"

"He didn't even get past the child lock," he continued. "He told Carol he was just curious, so she let it go. But today, he actually asked for one."

"Rick, he-"

"When she said no, he asked her to make sure we kept watch on your house. He's scared for you, Jessie. He told Carol that himself."

Almost as if she now wasn't listening, Jessie began washing her paint brush in a cup of water, using a rag to wring it out and set it aside. Her chair scraped loudly as she stood up and turned away, allowing Carrie a brief glimpse of her face, of her watery eyes. While Jessie rummaged around through her supplies Carrie resisted the need to look up at Rick, to try and gauge what he was thinking. It felt like this discussion was going nowhere, but she had to trust him, to trust his experience.

"I appreciate your concern," Jessie began, trying and failing to make her voice sound strong. Collecting a stained palette, she began adding small dabs of paint onto it as she spoke. "For me, for my boys…but I can handle this myself. I don't want your help."

"I know you feel that way," Rick replied, unperturbed by her refusal. "I know you've been handling it yourself for a very long time. The thing is, I'm not going to let you do it alone anymore."

"I don't want your help."

"And I'm not letting you refuse it."

Sitting down with the palette on her lap and array of clean brushes on the table, and she looked at Rick incredulously. "Did you not hear me? I don't want your help!" she snapped. "You asked me to listen, and I have. Now I want you to leave."

Rick shook his head. "I'm not finished."

"Well I am."

Clearing his throat, Rick moved his chair a little closer to Jessie, making sure he had her full attention. "I'm not giving you the option to refuse…I'm not offering my help. I'm giving it whether you want it or not."

"No, you can't do that," she said angrily. "This is my problem, this is my family! You can't barge into my house, and tell me what to do."

"I am."

"No, you-"

"This is happening, with or without you."

Jessie faltered at this. "What's happening?"

"We're going to stop Pete from hurting you, from hurting your boys too," he started gently before laying it all out. "If I don't have your help to do that, I'm going to have to make him leave Alexandria."

"No, absolutely not!" she exclaimed in outrage. "You're no-"

"With your help," Rick continued. "We kick him out of this house, we organise somewhere else for him to live. We manage times for your boys to see him as often as they like, and the same for you…but he doesn't get to live here. He doesn't get to hurt you."

"You can't do that!" Jessie hissed. "You can't just make him leave! You think I haven't tried that already?"

"I know you have," he agreed, softening his tone. "It will be different this time, because you will have people supporting you. I won't let him come back, I won't let him retaliate and hurt you. This change can work, Jessie, I promise. But I need you on board to make it happen, otherwise I'll have no choice but to exile him."

There was a long pause, the three of them sitting in silence as Jessie digested the sudden changes he intended to impose. While they waited Carrie took a chance and looked at Rick, glad to see that despite how poorly it seemed to be going from her perspective, he looked calm and satisfied thus far. How the hell did he do that?

"You can't make him leave," Jessie said softly. Dipping a paint brush into some clean water, she mixed a small dab of black with some white, expertly creating the perfect shade of grey for the owl. "He's a doctor, this community needs him."

"Is that what Deanna told you?"

Her hands were steady as she began painting the owl, but her lips shook as she nodded her head, her eyes beginning to well up. "Yes…I only asked her to make him move out."

"Did she at least try?"

Jessie paused. "I don't know…she didn't want to upset him."

Taking this all in, the three of them sat in awkward silence for a few moments, Jessie blowing on the cast to help dry the spots that were still wet. Filling in the shape of the owl, she added a little more paint to her brush and then began using short, swift strokes to make a feather life appearance.

"He's still your husband, I know I can't change that," Rick continued, trying to be understanding. "All I want is for him to be out of this house, for him to not have the opportunity to hurt you anymore. If you want him to stay in Alexandria, I will make that allowance…but I need you completely on board. That's the only choice I'm giving you here."

Considering this, Jessie took a few deep breaths, self-consciously wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. "Can't you let me keep trying?" she asked. "Please, just me a few weeks. He can change, I know he can."

Rick shook his head, standing firm. "No."

For the first time, Jessie looked up and made eye contact with Carrie. She looked as though she was pleading with her to do something, to speak up in her defence, but she couldn't. Speaking for the first time since the conversation began, Carrie chose her words very carefully.

"Jessie, we're not expecting you to do this on your own. We're all here to do this with you…all of us."

This seemed to be of little comfort, for perhaps Jessie had been hopeful that Carrie might defend her. Looking away, she turned her attention back to the cast, beginning the second one on the branch. There was a long silence, none of them speaking as Jessie sat with her thoughts, digesting everything Rick had told her, considering the one option she had been given.

"Does Pete have a gun in the house?" Rick asked, breaking the silence.

Jessie looked up in alarm. "No," she assured him. "Of course not."

"Good," he nodded, sitting back in his chair and looking as though he were coming to a conclusion. "I'm going to give you until Saturday morning to make your decision…that's two days. If I don't have your support to make Pete move out by then, I'll be exiling him. Do you understand?"

"Yes," she whispered in reply, wiping her eyes again as she turned back to the cast. "I understand."

"Come and talk to me if you make your decision before then," he said, standing up and pushing his chair in. "If you have questions…if you feel scared. It doesn't matter what time of day or night. Just come by."

Not looking up, Jessie just gave him a short nod, a clear request that he leave. Lingering for only a moment longer, Rick looked at Carrie and gave her a small nod, this gesture indicating his confidence, assuring her that this had gone well. As he left he brushed his hand over her shoulder, his gentle touch another reassurance, although this one was for her, for her confidence in what she had to do next. As Rick left, an uncomfortable silence fell over Carrie and Jessie, the tension reminding her of how important her role in this was. Rick had told her that being there for Jessie as a friend was what would make all the difference, was what would enable her to actually do this. Reflecting on everything that had just been said, on Jessie's reactions, her denials and refusals, Carrie better understood her role now.

"How does it look so far?" Jessie asked, clearing her throat before reaching for a Kleenex. "The cast."

"It looks beautiful," she said honestly, admiring the work. While she waited for the grey owls to dry, Jessie had been applying small details to the tree trunk, small streaks of black and dark brown giving it definition. Looking back at Jessie now, she wondered what she should say, how she could comfort her, but she honestly didn't know what to do.

"You and Rick…" Jessie began. "It's serious now, isn't it?"

Carrie frowned…though she and Jessie had become good friends, they'd never discussed her relationship with Rick, having wanted to maintain it as a secret. Nevertheless, the suspicion was common knowledge among most circles in Alexandria, and Jessie had known for sure for some time, having practically caught them at it one afternoon.

"Yes, it is."

"You love him?

"Yes."

"Good," Jessie nodded, taking a new brush and dipping it into some green, starting on the leaves now. "Then you understand that loving him means you accept him as he is, flaws and all."

Considering this, Carrie thought about Rick's flaws, and not for the first time either. He could be quick to anger, impatient at times, self righteous, temperamental…not exactly flaws Carrie herself was innocent to. She and Rick still had much to learn about one another, experiences they needed to share before they could really claim to know the other inside and out. But already Carrie knew that she accepted Rick for who he was, flaws and all. To compare these flaws to Pete's actions was unthinkable.

"Physically abusing you is more than a character flaw," she stated plainly, trying not to sound sanctimonious. "Do you accept that part of Pete?"

"No," she said quickly, shaking her head. "No, but…" Trailing off, Jessie took a deep breath. "But he's my husband, Carrie. I can't just…abandon him."

"Doing this doesn't change that," she explained. "Rick's not trying to change that either. But he can't live with you anymore. We can't let him keep hurting you, we simply can't."

"But if Rick would just let me handle this, I know I could," she insisted, looking up at her. "You believe me, don't you?"

Carrie hesitated, not wanting to tell the truth, to say that she didn't believe her. "I believe that…that you believe you can help him."

Sniffling, Jessie looked away from her. "That's just another way of saying no."

"Okay then…no. If Rick doesn't believe he can change, then I don't either."

"And let me guess. You knew he was coming here today?" she asked, sounding betrayed. "You knew he'd be springing this on me?"

"Yes," she admitted. "I did."

"Why would you let him do that? Why couldn't you tell me?"

Considering this question, Carrie gave her honest answer. "Because you need our help, and I don't think that you can see it just yet. I want to give you that help, like you helped me once."

Jessie paused, and then slowly looked up at her. "How did I help you?"

Carrie smiled, surprised that she didn't know. "When I first got here, you were just like everyone else. You were nice, you smiled and introduced yourself…but you were the only one who didn't judge me, and you didn't pretend to understand. That's what I'm trying to do in return for you. I'm not here to judge you, and I'm not here to pretend I understand…but I'm here."

Shaking, Jessie sniffled against before grabbing another Kleenex to dab at her eyes, offering the box to Carrie. Realising her eyes too were beginning to water, she took one gratefully, glad to hear Jessie give a watery laugh.

"Pete might be home soon," she remarked seriously now, picking up her mug of coffee and taking a long sip. "We need to stop, or he'll notice."

Doing the same thing, Carrie sipped at her coffee too. Though it was cold, the action of doing something with her hands was helpful, settling her nervous energy the way fiddling with a pen beneath the desk in a boardroom did. "We can tell him we were crying about Aidan and Noah."

Jessie shook her head. Clearing her throat, she picked up her brush and resumed work on the leaves. "No, he'll know. I don't want to make this difficult for him. He's trying so hard right now. Really, he is."

This remark struck Carrie, and in that moment it felt like their whole conversation had come full circle. Reaching out, she took Jessie's free hand in hers, holding it and waiting until Jessie looked up at her. "That's the problem, Jessie," she said sincerely. "Pete shouldn't have to try."

* * *

Days slipped by quicker than Rick expected, bringing him back to another Friday of which he was relieved of his duties. Like the Fridays previous he awoke with restless energy, knowing that Michonne and the others would take care of rounds, security and Walkers, and that he was expected to take a day off. But just like every Friday, Rick seemed to struggle with this concept…he was not used to relaxing, and it didn't help that there were so many things on his mind. Noah's death, Tara's health, his new relationship with Carrie, whether or not Daryl was safe recruiting, Judith teething…Pete and Jessie.

Needing something to do, it was with reluctance that Rick looked into the garage and considered tidying it up. When he'd left for the supply run back in February it had been clean and tidy with little of interest in there, but when he had returned that all changed. He had filled the garage with an eclectic array of computer and electrical equipment, squeezing in a corner desk suite where they now housed the main hub the surveillance system. Also crammed in there was a wide array of…stuff. He had no idea what to do with it all, whether it truly belonged in his garage or if it would be better off in the shipping container. Over two months had passed since the supply run. He ought to have cleaned it up by now.

Stepping inside, he dejectedly looked around at the mess, assessing the dimensions of the room and trying to plan where he might put things. It all seemed insurmountable, but it was something he had to achieve. Glenn had brought back a Lego Death Star for he and Carl to make together, and ever since they had finally started watching the movies Carl was itching to open the box and get it started, but Rick was delaying him. They couldn't afford to accidentally leave small pieces of Lego around the house with Judith at this age, and so they had agreed they would work on it in the garage…Rick just had to clean it up first.

Still looking around, he found something that got his interest, that gave a flicker of motivation. Lego and comic books were not the only thing Glenn had brought back…he'd also brought back some wall brackets for the surveillance system screens. Picturing the screens up on the wall, and itching to get his hands on an electric drill for the first time in a while, he decided then and there that he was going to finally get the garage done. But as he kept looking around he knew this wasn't a task for one person…it didn't take much for him to convince Carrie to help him. In fact he got the impression she'd been hoping to help, almost as if he was doing her a favour, not the other way around. With the agreement that she could use Olivia's label maker and organise the garage according to her preferences, she'd readily agreed to help him, accepting his thanks in the form of a long, slow kiss.

With Ron not talking him, and by proxy Mikey not talking to him either, Carl chose to spend most of the morning taking Judith to visit Bob and Natalie. Though he was worried about the way his son's friends were treating him, with Enid being the exception, Rick was glad he wasn't hanging around home. It gave he and Carrie the some peace and quiet, not to mention privacy. Happily letting her take charge, they opened the garage doors and methodically moved everything out onto the road behind, hastily brushing aside Eugene's offers to help them. Aside from not wanting him to take over, Rick saw this as an opportunity for just he and Carrie, for them to spend some time with one another while they had their clothes on.

They'd worked happily until Carl brought Judith home, needing Rick to relieve him of baby sitting duty while he reluctantly went to school. With the garage mostly emptied of junk and the floor swept, Rick simply changed Judith into the clothes she wore in the gardens and then let her join them, vigilantly keeping an eye on her and what had caught her attention. The afternoon had passed quickly, and as he knew she would Carrie did an excellent job organising the garage. All of the contents were neatly organised on shelves or in drawers, their gardening tools stored in a large tub and basic tools mounted on a plywood board up on the wall. There was even plenty of space left over in the middle of the room for a fold up table where he and Carl would be able to work on their Lego.

Bustling around the desk, Rick adjusted the wall mounted the wall mounted computer screens and took a moment to admire his work. Taking a few cable ties, he bundled the hanging cables together and neatly secured them, rolling his eyes when he saw that Carrie had labelled each of them according to which camera they were connected to. He'd let her go crazy with that damn thing. Working together on a task like this had been rather insightful. Sinking into the office chair Rick put his feet up on the desk and closed his eyes for a few moments, taking the opportunity to rest. Two days had passed since he had approached Jessie and given her the ultimatum regarding Pete, and the Saturday deadline for her decision was tomorrow. Regardless of where she stood on the matter, Pete would be leaving her home in one way or another…but it was up to her whether he moved to a different house, or he left Alexandria all together.

Not to his surprise, it seemed that Jessie was slowly but surely coming around, that maybe she was finding the confidence and strength to do this. He knew that Carrie had a lot to do with this, that having a supportive friend by her side had given Jessie a much needed boost of confidence, but on the other hand Rick knew it was the time that had helped. The opportunity to sit back and consider her options was much needed…she deserved the time to digest what was going to happen, for it was a major change she and her children would be facing, an unwelcome change at that.

A good sign, Jessie had been asking questions about how the new arrangement would work, about the contingency plans and consequences that were in place. Although Rick still preferred the strategy of exiling Pete all together, of pretending to drive him out a few miles only to put a bullet in his head, Rick was making every effort to ensure their first plan came to fruition. Carol was right…they could not lose the trust of the Alexandrians, nor could they risk Maggie's health by killing her doctor. Killing Pete had to be the last resort…at the very least Rick owed it to Maggie to do all he could to make this arrangement work, and so far he had. All those involved in the intricacies of Pete's ejection from his home were ready, everyone knew their roles and what they had to do to ensure this went down smoothly.

Despite things looking good for them, Rick couldn't shake this foreboding feeling that lingered in the back of his mind, his instincts telling him that something was wrong. He felt like he needed to be ready, that something was just on the horizon, waiting to pounce. It was no wonder he was having trouble sleeping at the moment…helping with the constant watch over Jessie's house certainly wasn't helping either, nor was Judith's teething pain. On that note, the sense of foreboding only grew worse, for Rick couldn't help but feel he was inviting something bad to come his way.

Part of the reason he wanted Pete dead was for Jessie's safety…a larger part was for his own reasons. Pete seemed to have developed a rather disconcerting problem with Rick, starting the day that he had refused to let him save the Wolf he'd told Carl to shoot. Not liking being told what to do in his own infirmary, Pete had flipped out to the extent that he'd gone home and beaten Jessie unconscious. Though he didn't blame himself for causing that, Rick knew that had been the start of Pete's problem with him, the spark that had initiated the man's intense disliking. It had worsened when Rick taken charge of Alexandria, forcing Pete to teach medical training and to allow Denise into the infirmary too.

It was over a week ago now, but Rick was still uncomfortably aware of everything Pete had said to him last week, the day of the supply run when he'd drunkenly barged into his house in the afternoon. Though he hadn't said it outright, Pete's threat to accidentally tell Carl about his relationship with Carrie was clear, as was his uninvited interest in Judith's paternity. Harsh words had been exchanged between the two of them, and Rick had threatened him in no uncertain terms…in hind sight, that probably wasn't such a good idea. Now that he and his group were about to force Pete to leave his wife and sons, his hatred of Rick was only going to worsen.

Would that come back to hurt Carl? Would Pete tell him about Carrie, or worse, about Judith?

"Hey," a familiar voice interrupted him from his brooding. Carrie stood in the doorway, her arms folded as she leant against the door frame, smiling at him. Before he could answer, a second and sweeter voice copied her.

"Hello," Judith waved to him, racing after Carrie and coming to stand by her side. Looking at him, Judith waved again and repeated her greeting.

"Hey, Judy Pie." Taking his feet off the desk, he leant down and held his hands out to her. Grabbing onto Carrie's leg to steady herself, Judith very carefully lowered herself down the small step into the garage and then raced over to him. He peppered her cheek with kisses as he pulled her up onto his lap, settling her there and brushing his hand through her blonde curls. He glanced up at Carrie now. "How do you like your new shadow?"

"It's uh….kind of noisy for a shadow."

Rick smiled, finding he was pleasantly surprised by this remark. Regardless of how many hours she'd kept her father and brother awake last night, Judith was in an exceptionally good mood today, expressing that through a newfound interest in Carrie, who until now she had regarded as little more than another person who just happened to be around. Today though with he and Carrie working together in the garage, Judith had been following her around everywhere, keeping tabs on her as if she somehow knew Carrie's role in the family was about to change. Even when Carrie left to go to the bathroom Judith tried to follow her, standing at the door and waiting, ignoring Rick's attempts to make her stop.

"Come sit in the living room with us," Carrie suggested hopefully. "Please?" she added.

Unable to help it, Rick's smile turned into a grin. With the way Judith had taken such a liking to her, Carrie had done her best to return the favour, talking to Judith and generally trying to keep her out of mischief as they cleaned the garage. He could tell she was trying to follow his lead, that she was watching the way he interacted with Judith and then copying it…she was making quite the effort. But when they'd finished with the garage and decided to relax for the remainder of the afternoon, Carrie had managed to get herself stuck reading a book to Judith. Still a novice, she had yet to learn that it never got more interesting.

Taking pity on her, he got to his feet and swung Judith onto his hip, stopping Carrie as she went to leave ahead of him. Sliding his hand around her waist he swept her into a soft kiss, tenderly moving his lips over hers before running his tongue along her top lip. She grinned as they kissed, reaching up with her good hand and running it through the curls at the top of his neck.

"Thanks for your help in here," he said.

"Trust me…pleasure was all mine."

"How so?"

"I got to boss you around and watch you bend over to pick up things."

"I know," he growled, kissing her again. "I've been feeling your eyes on my ass all day."

"Oh yeah?" Turning away, she headed into the living room as he followed. "Well I've been feeling your eyes down the front of my shirt all day."

"You wore that tank top for a reason, don't pretend you didn't."

She laughed as she sank down onto the couch, watching as he settled Judith with her toys and coaxed her to play on her own. "Yes, I did."

Eagerly joining her on the couch, he was glad when she leaned over to kiss him, welcoming him down. He'd shaved that morning, and just like she had the first moment they found privacy that day she ran her hand over his jaw, feeling his smooth skin before kissing him again. They kissed languidly, indulging in one another, but a few moments later she pulled away shyly.

"That's all?" he pretended to whine, moving closer to her and placing his hand on her knee. She gave an embarrassed laugh, and as he thought they might her eyes flicked over to where Judith was playing. "Don't worry about her."

"But, she -"

"She's more interested in picking her nose."

A horrified look crossing her face, Carrie turned back to Judith again, her expression relaxing when she saw her stacking her toys in her wooden cart. She looked at him in exasperation, sighing as he pushed her hair aside and gently began kissing her neck. His lips ghosted across her skin, his hand moving higher up her leg and settling on her inner thigh, glad that she was wearing her thin yoga pants that day. As he felt her heart rate speeding up beneath his lips he breathed in deeply, and then slowly sighed. There was something about what they had done that day, something about the two of them achieving a task together that made him want her badly. A testament to her work, she smelled of sweat and dust…he was definitely turned on, and judging by her next question, so was she.

"When's her next nap?" she asked, glancing at Judith.

Rick chuckled, unable to help himself. "She's done for the day."

Groaning, Carrie shifted her position on the couch to face him better. Ushering him to move away from her neck she kissed him deeply now, her hand winding into his hair and coaxing him to lay down with her, which he did happily. As she lay back on the couch he ran his hands down to her knees and pulled them apart, sparing a glance to ensure Judith wasn't getting into mischief. He lifted Carrie's tank top and lowered his lips to her navel, brushing them over the piercing. Knowing exactly what reaction he would get, he ran the tip of his tongue in a circle around her navel, relishing the taste of her skin and the involuntary shiver he got in return. Though they were limited with what they could do right now, that didn't mean he couldn't enjoy the way her legs clenched around his torso, or the breathy sigh she made next.

"Carl will be home soon," she muttered despondently. Grabbing a fistful of his shirt she tugged him back up, her left arm winding around him and pulling him down against her.

"We've probably got forty minutes" He pressed his body against hers, daringly rocking his hips against hers. The subtle tightening in the front of his jeans felt better than it should, prompting him to do it again.

"Well, maybe we could take watch together tonight."

"Take watch?"

"Yeah," she shrugged nonchalantly, kissing him. "You know… _take watch_. There's room for two in that tower."

Her suggestion held serious merit, and he returned her kiss as if to reward her. "Wouldn't that be cold?"

"I'll find a way to keep you warm," she assured him. Crossing her ankles around his, she held him close as she started whispering the details into his ear, her free hand reaching for his belt.

"Dammit, Carrie," he moaned. He tried pulling away from her, but she insistently held him close. Looking around to check on Judith, he shook his head as he turned back to her. "Don't talk dirty…not right now."

Grinning mischievously, she rocked up against the front of his jeans, kissing him as she tried to coax him for more. Giving her what she wanted for only a moment, he indulged in the way their bodies felt pressed against one another, his imagination running wild with thoughts of how they could occupy themselves right now. Putting some space between them, he held himself up on his elbows as he looked down at her fondly, tugging her shirt back down. As his hand brushed over the crest of her hip, he was suddenly aware of how small and fragile she felt as she lay beneath him, particularly with her broken wrist. He mentally corrected himself, knowing first hand how strong and capable she was, for she'd proven it again and again. But that didn't stop him from wanting to protect her, from wanting to keep her safe in Alexandria. It was a notion that he was only slowly coming around to, the idea that he couldn't always protect someone he loved, that he couldn't keep Carrie inside the walls the way he could with his children.

Pressing a chaste kiss to her swollen lips Rick forced himself to sit up, easily unravelling himself from her attempt to hold him there. As she groaned in frustration he gave a long sigh as he moved to the other end of the couch and slumped down. Closing his eyes, he readjusted the front of his jeans and willed his inconvenient erection to go away.

"I hate your self control," Carrie muttered, laying exactly where he had left her.

"Me too."

Opening his eyes when he heard her moving, he gave her a look of warning, moving further away as he tried not to let her advances stroke his ego too much.

"I'll behave myself," she rolled her eyes, coming closer anyway. "I just want to sit with you."

Happy to accommodate such a request, he put his arm around her shoulder and let her lean against his side. As they got comfortable, he closed his eyes and relaxed, simply trying to enjoy the moment. They sat together peacefully, Rick listening to Judith as she played, babbling to herself while she pushed her wooden cart around and collected her toys. He liked the way this felt, the way all of the moments felt every since they had said they loved one another, and he couldn't wait for this to become a regular thing, something they didn't have to hide. On that note…

"Let's tell Carl on Tuesday."

"Tuesday?" Carrie enquired, trying to sound as if she hadn't been waiting for this conversation to occur.

"Yes. Tuesday feels right, just like it did last time," he said, opening his eyes and beginning to think out loud. "Handling Pete could turn into a shit storm…Tuesday gives us the weekend to handle that, and then a couple of days to let the dust settle."

Carrie nodded. "Okay, Tuesday. Same time and place?"

"Sounds good to me," he said, smiling as Judith came over and gave him one of her toys.

While Judith began piling toys into his lap one by one, her new favourite game, Carrie just chuckled at his expense and then used it to her advantage. Getting comfortable again, she moved her elbow and rested her cast on the stuffed Peppa Pig, sighing as she relaxed again. Their peaceful moments soon felt like an echo, Rick reluctantly turning his attention to Carrie's cast. The artwork Jessie had painted for her was definitely an improvement, almost as if the owls sitting in a tree had hidden the injury and the cause behind it. It seemed that way on occasion, for he'd seen Carrie smiling as she showed it to people, as she handed them a black marker and told them to sign their names on one of the leaves. He appreciated Jessie's efforts, that now Carrie didn't have to look at the cast and remember what Nicholas had done to her.

"Be gentle," Rick reminded Judith, seeing her rushing over carrying as many blocks as she could.

He protectively held his arm in front of Carrie's wrist, not wanting Judith to accidentally jostle it. Slowing down and peering at him inquisitively, Judith looked at the cast she had spent much time admiring and then diverted her course towards Carrie instead. Fumbling a little, Judith dropped all of the blocks into her lap, giving an audible sigh of frustration when one fell to the floor. Promptly picking it up, she put it in Carrie's lap and then looked up at her, finally giving a toothy smile before heading back to her box of toys again.

Looking at Carrie from the corner of his eye, Rick smiled on the inside, seeing how hard she was trying to hide a smile of her own. It hadn't escaped his notice that she'd been trying particularly hard with Judith over the last few days, that she'd been getting to know her a little better. In the two months that she'd been living in Alexandria Carrie had kept her distance from Judith, and Rick had understood her reasons. He didn't imagine her early life or career had taught her much in the way of children…on occasion he got the impression that she was rather intimidated by Judith. It was nice seeing her make this effort, that she was going out of her way to invest herself in his children.

"Do you think Jessie's ready?" he asked her, turning his eyes back to the artwork on her cast. This thing with Pete and Jessie had to go smoothly…for Carl's sake at least. Rick couldn't afford to completely turn his son's only friends against him. Already Ron and Mikey were treating him like shit, as if his concern for Ron's family was out of line.

"I don't know," she pondered, her content expression turning to worry. "What do you think?"

"You're her friend," he pressed, wanting her perspective.

Thinking, Carrie took a moment before she answered. "I don't know…we've been talking a lot. Sometimes about Pete, sometimes about general stuff."

"That's good."

"It is?" she frowned, turning to look up at him.

Rick nodded. "She's talking to her friend, she's letting you in a little. With that backing her up, and the couple of questions she's been asking me…I think she'll be ready when it comes to the crunch."

Nodding, Carrie sighed as she looked at the toys in her lap, picking up one of the blocks and turning it over. "I'm glad you're confident," she said, moving further into his embrace. "The sooner this is over, the better."

He nodded in agreement, brushing his hand through her shoulder length hair. Peering down at her face, he was glad to see that the cut on her left cheek was healing well. For all his flaws, Pete had done an excellent job treating the wound…it looked unlikely that the cut would leave a scar. Affectionately kissing the crown of her head, he moved his hand back down to her waist as they sat together in comfortable silence, watching as Judith bustled around with her toys. Using her cart to move them all around, she piled her toys into it and then brought them over to where they sat on the couch, swapping them with the ones she had piled into their laps.

Breaking the comfortable silence, Carrie picked up his left hand and twisted his watch around to see the face. "Alright, we've got half an hour," she said, referring to Carl's arrival from school. "What food do you miss the most?"

He sighed longingly, putting his head back as he felt his mouth watering already. "Steak. A nice, thick porterhouse," he answered, closing his eyes as he pictured it in his head. "God I can smell it…no sauce, but seasoned with salt, pepper and rosemary."

"Oh, rosemary," she teased. "It seems you're quite the connoisseur. Keep going."

"It's gotta be medium to well done, I don't like my food to bleed any more. And maybe some roasted potatoes…tomatoes too. I used to be quite the griller, you know."

"Is that so?"

"It is…I had the corny apron to prove it. I was Licensed to Grill." Feeling her shudder, he opened his eyes and saw that she was trying to withhold her laughter. "Alright then…what food do you miss the most?"

"Mmmmm," she sighed, putting her head back against his shoulder. "I miss my green smoothies. I can't wait until the garden has everything I need."

"Ugh," Rick groaned in revulsion.

"Come on, hear me out," she insisted, looking up at him excitedly. "A little bit of kale, some baby spinach, cucumber, mint, lemon, pear, chia seeds…"

As she continued talking excitedly Rick just looked at her incredulously, trying to picture all of these ingredients going into a blender. "You put lemon in a smoothie?"

"The lemon is essential. Without the lemon, it just tastes like grass."

"Oh," he nodded, feigning genuine interest. "Yes, of course."

She narrowed her eyes. "You're mocking me," she accused.

"Yes." He kissed her to apologise, but he wasn't finished just yet. "Don't tell me you're one of those health nuts who did things like the twenty four hour lemon detox." When she didn't answer he looked down at her in concern, seeing the way she had pursed her lips. "No, Carrie…no."

"Of course I didn't do a twenty four hour lemon detox," she assured him, rubbing his knee with her good hand. "I was bad ass, I did the five day lemon detox."

Sighing in exasperation, Rick just shook his head again. "Christ…you were a health nut," he accused.

"You only just figured that out?"

"Did you ever indulge?"

"Of course I did. I used to drink a lot of coffee, wine…bagels," she moaned. "God, what I wouldn't give for a bagel."

"Yes," he agreed. "Pizza sauce, pepperoni and cheese at two o'clock in the morning on the graveyard shift. Perfection."

"Uh uh. Cream cheese and salmon."

He sighed in exasperation. "What's wrong with you? Why do you have to take the fun out of a bagel?"

"Avocado and grilled egg plant? That's good."

"No," he said sternly, kissing her forehead. "Pizza bagel. That's the only way…I'd convince you, trust me.'

Accepting this, she sighed and put her head back against his shoulder, closing her eyes for a few moments. "If we'd met before all of this," she began, her eyes still closed. "You wouldn't have given me the time of day."

Rick looked at her in surprise, quirking an eyebrow. He'd always thought of it as a little more the other way around, that a Manhattan businesswoman like Carrie wouldn't spare a small town cop like him a second glance. "Yes, I would have," he said honestly. "My mama raised a gentleman."

"A gentleman most of the time," she said suggestively, eliciting a smile from both of them before she turned serious again. "I was a quality bitch back then…especially if you were a slow moving tourist on Madison Avenue."

"God help the tourists," he muttered. "Although, that probably would have been me."

Thanking Judith as she filled their laps with yet more toys, Rick dwelled on what Carrie had said, considering the notion that in the normal world they wouldn't be together. It was startling to realise that they would have never found each other without all of this, they they wouldn't have fallen in love or felt such a strong connection. The concept itself was something he'd considered many times before, the idea that he'd become close with someone like Daryl while drifting apart from Shane was laughable, but he'd not yet applied this to his relationship with Carrie. Their lives before the outbreak were important, and the more they learnt about each other the more they realised just how different they had been.

"Judy Pie," he started, taking one of the toys and holding it out to her. "Time to put your toys away."

As he knew they would, his instruction made Judith look at him in confusion, though she understood what she was saying. Protesting, she looked around at her scattered toys, clearly indicating to him that she wasn't done playing.

"You want to take a walk?" he suggested. Her eyes lit up at this, a beaming smile crossing her face as she eagerly started heading for the door, coming back only when he called out repeatedly. "You have to put your toys away first."

While they watched as Judith slowly put her toys away one by one, Carrie enquired, "Why don't you ever call her Judy?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, you call her Judith, or Judy Pie…but never just Judy. Why is that?"

He shrugged. "I just don't…Judy isn't her name."

Carrie leant up and kissed the underside of his jaw. "Rick isn't your name, either. Shall I call you Derrick from now on?"

"If you have a death wish," he warned, returning her kiss properly. "Why the curiosity?"

She shrugged innocently. "Just trying to figure you out."

"You want to figure me out while we talk a walk?"

Carrie paused, looking up at him. "With Judith?"

"I already told her we're going, she'll get mad at me if we leave her behind."

Though she smiled tentatively, she was hesitant. "Wouldn't that be more of a couple thing? We're not _out_ yet."

"Come on," he coaxed her. "I could use the company. To be honest, it's more like she's taking me for a walk than the other way around."

"Okay," she agreed slowly. "Kiss me first."

Happily obliging, he put his fingers under her chin and tilted her head up towards his. He kissed her sweetly, hoping to convey how great things had been that day, how much he'd enjoyed organising the garage with her. Pausing to check on Judith who had been distracted by one of her toys and was happily playing again, he turned towards Carrie properly, kissing her a little more deeply this time. He thought of her suggestion that they take watch together that night, mentally planning what they'd need to bring with them. Coming around to the idea more and more, he reached over and slipped his hand under her shirt, his palm running over her stomach before reaching higher.

"M-Mr Grimes?"

Hearing the small, tentative voice coming from the front door, Rick tore himself away from Carrie, the array of toys in his lap tumbling to the floor thanks to his haste. Looking over the back of the couch, he was horrified to see Sam Anderson standing there looking at him, though he took comfort in the fact that he seemed as embarrassed as he did.

"Sam," he hastily smiled, moving further away from Carrie and clearing his throat. "Hey…everything alright?"

Still looking a little embarrassed, Sam slowly came inside, beginning to smile when he saw Judith. He'd always liked coming over to play with her. "Yeah," he said nonchalantly, answering Rick's question. "I just thought I'd come over and…and say hi to Judy."

Exchanging a glance with Carrie, Rick got the sinking feeling in his stomach that perhaps that wasn't the reason Sam had come over here. Looking back at the young man, it didn't escape Rick's notice that he glanced over at Carrie once or twice. Though he normally liked Carrie just as much as he liked anyone else, today he seemed disappointed that she was there…Rick suspected he knew why.

"You know, I was just about to check the surveillance cameras," Rick said, turning back to Sam. "Would you like to help me with that first?"

His eyes lit up, his attention immediately diverted from Judith. "Yeah," he said eagerly. "Please," he added hastily. "Thanks, Mr Grimes."

"Why don't you head on in," he said, gesturing to the garage. "I'll be there in a minute."

Looking rather pleased, Sam eagerly did as he was told, and when he looked back and smiled at him, Rick forced himself to smile back. Sam left the door open, but as soon as he was out of sight Rick sighed, restlessly running his hand through his hair. "He wants to talk, I can tell."

"Do you think he's here for Carol?"

He shook his head negatively. "He already came looking for her this afternoon, he knows she's at the pantry."

"He's here for you then."

"Yes."

There was a short pause until Carrie spoke again. "Go. I can…handle this," she said awkwardly, gesturing to Judith. "I think."

Thanking her, he kissed her once more and then made his way towards the open front door, looking out. Almost as if he was worried Pete or Jessie might be coming after him, he looked up the street and then closed the front door, no longer concerned with letting the nice breeze in. Checking that Carrie and Judith were content in one another's company, the latter not even noticing his departure, Rick braced himself before heading into the garage, wondering what problem he was about to face.

He found Sam standing in the middle of the garage, curiously looking around while he clenched his hands together. Rick smiled at this, knowing that his hands were not clenched out of nervousness, but to restrain himself from the desire to reach out and touch everything. Lori had taught Carl to do the same thing when he was younger, making him walk around the grocery store with his hands in his pockets to stop him trying to touch absolutely everything, but candy in particular. Sam was doing the same thing now, holding his hands together as he looked at the various electrical items and computer equipment that had been organised. As Rick closed the door to give themselves some privacy, he watched as Sam's gaze moved over the tall gun safe. Much to Deanna's reluctance, the safe housed three rifles, some hand guns and more than enough ammunition, and there was a similar cabinet in the garage next door. Deanna had been less than pleased when he'd told her they were putting them there a few weeks ago…but he hadn't been asking permission.

"You cleaned it all up," Sam commented.

"Yeah, Carrie helped me," he said, cringing a second later. He didn't want to bring up Carrie after what Sam had just seen. Scolding himself, he returned Sam's smile and then gestured to the office chair that sat by the desk. "Take a seat."

Intentionally giving Sam the larger chair, hoping to make him feel more confident and empowered, Rick chose the smaller office chair in the corner, glad that it was no longer buried under a mountain of miscellaneous cables and power cords.

"Is Carrie your girlfriend?" Sam enquired, his tone curious.

Knowing he couldn't avoid it, Rick nodded as he sat down beside Sam. "Yes, she is."

"Cool."

"The thing is, Sam," he started gently, clearing his throat. "I haven't told Carl that she's my girlfriend…not yet."

"Why not?"

"Because she…only just became my girlfriend," he explained, exaggerating a little. "It's something that Carl needs to hear from me, not from anyone else. Can you help me keep it a secret, please?"

To Rick's annoyance, Sam seemed to ponder this, looking torn. "Will you tell him the truth very soon?" he asked, sounding concerned.

"Yes. Very soon."

He nodded, apparently satisfied. "I guess that's okay then. I won't talk about it to anyone…I pinky swear."

As Sam held out his pinky finger, Rick barely managed to contain his smile, amused by what constituted as a genuine promise. Extending his own finger, they shook on it, sealing Sam's promise that he wouldn't tell Carl.

"Thanks, Sam. So," he began, standing up and reaching for the screens that displayed the world outside the walls. Glad he had finally mounted them onto the walls, he pulled them down so that Sam could see them better. "What do you think? We're all clear?"

Concentrating, Sam peered at the three monitors intently, his expression torn between the fear of seeing a Walker, and the mutual disappointment of not seeing one. "I can see a monster," he said quickly, pointing it out on the screen. "There, it's right there."

"Good spot, but don't call them monsters," he reminded him. Ever since the weapons training had been stepped up for the Alexandrian's, so too had the children's knowledge and understanding of the world outside. They were no longer allowed to call Walkers monsters…small tasks such as letting them look at the surveillance cameras had been helping with their fears.

Having listened, Sam nodded obediently. His eyes were still focused on the screens, but a few moments later he gave a long sigh and relaxed back into his chair. "You can't see inside the walls?"

"No. Only outside. Why do we need to see inside the walls?" he asked, beginning to lead the conversation in the right direction. It took a moment for Sam to answer, and in the mean time he looked at Rick's gun holster, appearing disappointed to find that it was empty.

"I dunno," he shrugged nonchalantly, turning back to the cameras. "Where's your gun?"

"I don't need it while I'm at home."

"It's in your safe though, isn't it," Sam stated, recalling the safety training all the children had received. "That's where you're meant to keep guns, right?"

"That's right."

"Cool," he muttered, trying to keep being nonchalant.

An awkward silence fell, and as he looked back at the time and saw that there were only twenty minutes left until Carl came home, Rick pushed the conversation to keep going. "Sam…is there something you want to talk to me about? Or maybe something you want to talk to Carol about?" he pressed, taking note of Sam's lack of reaction. The fact that he gave no visible reaction was confirmation enough that there was something on his mind.

Sam finally nodded, but he didn't say anything more until Rick asked him again. As he spoke, he turned his head and looked at Rick, his wide eyes making him look particularly vulnerable "Are you…are you going to make my dad live somewhere else?"

Pausing, Rick chose his words very carefully. "Is that something that you would be okay with? Or would that make you feel sad?"

"I don't know," he answered, breathing out sharply as he looked back at the monitors. "My dad was a bit angry last night…I wanted him to go away then."

"What was he angry about?" Rick enquired in concern. He himself had been on watch last night, sitting underneath Pete and Jessie's bedroom window while Glenn sat outside the living room window.

"I don't know. He wasn't mad at me, he was mad at my mom." There was a long pause, and Rick did not interrupt him. "He showed us something at dinner…he put it on the table while we were eating."

Feeling the heavy weight of realisation come over him, Rick knew exactly what Sam was about to say. As Sam looked back at his holster yet again, his stomach churned in fear, horrified by what had happened right under his nose. Pete was still terrorising his family…he was just getting even better at hiding it.

"What was it Sam?"

He looked away quickly, his eyes downcast and ashamed. "I'm not supposed to tell," he said very quietly.

Rick had expected this much. "I understand," he said supportively. "But you know that I'm a Police Officer. If someone is making you feel scared, it's okay to tell me, even if you said you wouldn't."

"Okay…"

"What was it?" he asked. "What did your dad put on the table?"

There was a long pause, Sam clearly torn between the fear he felt towards his father, and the love he also felt for him. Finally he looked back up at Rick and answered. "It was a gun."


	35. Chapter 35

"What was it Sam?"

He looked away quickly, his eyes downcast and ashamed. "I'm not supposed to tell," he said very quietly.

Rick had expected this. "I understand," he said supportively. "But you know that I'm a police officer. If someone is making you feel scared, it's okay to tell me, even if you said you wouldn't."

"Okay…"

"What was it?" he asked. "What did your dad put on the table?"

There was a long pause, Sam clearly torn between the fear he felt towards his father, and the love he also felt for him. Finally he looked back up at Rick and answered. "It was a gun."

The sick feeling he had in his stomach only grew worse, but Rick forced himself to keep his expression plain, to not convey how much this both worried and angered him. "What kind of gun was it?" he asked, knowing that Sam vaguely knew the differences by now.

"One like yours, with the round bit that turns. It wasn't as big though."

He paused, making sure he didn't hammer Sam with questions too quickly. "Did you see where your dad put it after dinner?"

"No," he said quietly. "He still had it when I went to bed."

"Do you know where your dad is now? Is he at home?"

Sam shook his head. "No…he just went out."

"What about your mom? Is she home?"

"Yeah."

"Okay. Thank you for telling me about this Sam. I'm very glad that you came and talked to me."

"That's okay," he muttered desolately, beginning to look worried for a whole other reason now. "Are you going to get mad at my dad?"

"You don't need to worry about anything, okay Sam? Will you stay here with Judith for a little while? Keep her and Carrie company while I go talk to your mom?"

"You're not going to tell on me, are you?" he asked in alarm, his eyes widening. "You can't, I'll get in -"

"You're not getting into trouble, I promise."

"Okay," he said hesitantly, but he still did not relax.

"Will you stay here and play with Judith? She likes it when you come over."

Looking at him a moment longer, Sam slowly nodded in agreement. "Okay."

"Thank you," he said sincerely, standing up and prompting Sam to do the same. "Come on."

"You won't tell that it was me?" Sam asked again, slowly getting up and following Rick towards the door.

"No, I promise," he assured him, saying whatever he needed to say.

As Sam followed him back into the living room, a familiar sense of determination came over him, his mind kicking into gear and already planning what needed to happen next. The first priority was to get that gun, to make sure that Pete wasn't carrying it on his person. The second priority would be to speed up their timeline…their plans for Pete had to happen today, they had no choice about it. Catching Carrie's eye, he subtly gestured to the front door before clasping Sam on the shoulder.

"I'll be back soon, okay? You just stay and have fun with Judith."

Looking rather unhappy, Sam nevertheless did as he was asked, and promptly joined Judith on the floor where she was carefully stacking her blocks into a tower. Joining Carrie by the front door, he removed the child lock from the front cupboard and waited until Sam was distracted before he began explaining.

"Pete has a gun," he said very quietly, entering the combination into the safe. Taking his Colt, he slipped it into his holster and secured the clasp, grabbing his radio and knife as well. "I'm going to try and get it. Can you stay with Judith and Sam? They'll entertain each other." At the last minute, he took their spare radio and passed it to Carrie, checking that it was turned on first.

She nodded, her expression as worried as he felt. "I thought Jessie told you he didn't have one."

"Either she didn't know, or she was lying. It doesn't matter, Sam says he has one. I have to check."

"We're going to have to do this today, aren't we? We're going to have to kick him out now."

He nodded in agreement. "Yes, it has to be today," he agreed, closing the cupboard and securing the child lock again. Glancing back at Judith, he was confident that she wouldn't even notice his departure, and sufficiently entertained by Sam she would forget all about his suggestion of taking a walk. "Lock the door behind me, the side door too."

"Jesus, it's that serious?" she asked. "We never lock our doors."

"Just in case," he assured her as he opened the front door and stepped out. Though he was in a rush, he paused before closing the door, looking Carrie in the eye. "You going to be okay with Judith?"

She looked rather hesitant, most likely doubting her confidence to look after the baby by herself, but she nodded anyway. "Yes. Go. Do what you need to."

"Thanks."

Leaving it at that, Rick departed quickly, hearing a click as Carrie locked the deadbolt behind him. Quickly running through a mental list of what he'd have to take care of, he went straight next door and let himself in, never needing to knock. He found Eugene and Tara watching TV, stretched out on the couch and rubbing one another's feet. Knowing how Tara was still struggling with headaches since the explosion during the supply run he felt badly for interrupting her peaceful serenity, but it had to be done.

"Where is everyone?" he asked, looking around.

Peering at him in concern, Tara answered. "Sasha's sleeping, Rosita and Abraham are on construction, and Glenn and Maggie are having an ultrasound."

"With Pete?" he confirmed.

Tara raised her eyebrows. " **Well it's Big Foot's day off, so yeah, with Pete**."

"Good, I need your help with something," he said, ushering them to both get up. "Sam just came over and told me that Pete has a gun. I need to get over there and find it, now."

"Given his surly disposition of late, that is rather alarming news," Eugene remarked, looking towards the street as though he might find Pete at the front window.

"What do you need?" Tara asked.

"I need you to take watch from the front bedroom upstairs," he said, heading into the kitchen and getting her the set of binoculars and the radio they kept handy. "Tell me if Pete's coming back unexpectedly. Did Maggie say how long they'll take?"

Tara shrugged, taking the radio and checking the signals. "Depends. They're still trying to determine the gender. Depends if the baby has its legs crossed or not. And I think he wants another urine test too."

Glancing at his watch, he was worried to see that there was a little over ten minutes before Ron and Carl would be coming home from school. "Eugene, go and find Michonne. Take over her watch post, and send her to back me up."

"Wait, back you up?" Tara said in concern, halfway towards the stairs. "Are we kicking him out now?"

Rick hesitated, running through his options. "It has to happen today, yes. But if we can help it, we need to wait for the construction crew to get back. We're going to need Abraham to help us, especially if it turns ugly.

"We've got plenty of people to back you up," Tara reminded him. "I know I'm useless right now, but Michonne and Sash-"

"This needs to go smoothly," he explained. "Pete won't respond well to women telling him what to do. I'm going to need Abraham for this."

"What are we doing now then?"

"I'm only going to get the gun. The construction crew went out pretty far scavenging for the second gate, they might not be back until after dark. I don't want Pete around that gun for any length of time."

"What if he finds it gone?"

"If it comes to that, we'll handle it," he assured her, pausing to make sure that she understood the plan, that she was onboard. "You good?"

Tara hesitated, but then nodded. "Got it. I'll be watching the Infirmary."

"Good. Eugene?" he said quickly, catching him just as he was leaving. "Before you find Michonne, find Carol and send her home. Carrie's got Judith and Sam, and she's on her own."

"What's her likely location?" he asked, the two of them standing on the front porch together.

"The pantry, or Natalie and Bob's. If she's not there, try Shelly's house. Find her fast, then take over for Michonne."

"Understood," he nodded. "You can depend on me to get that shit done."

Not lingering to pat Eugene on the back, Rick headed straight for Jessie's house, knowing that he was already pressed for time. Pausing only to look towards the infirmary and then check his watch again, he saw that there was now ten minutes exactly before Ron and Carl would be let out of school. They normally hung around a little bit, the four teens wandering down past the lake before ultimately deciding whose house they'd hang out at, but since their fist fight on Tuesday, Ron and Carl each went straight to their respective homes. Increasingly pressed for time, Rick swiftly crossed Jessie's front porch and let himself in uninvited, just like he had the other day when he'd talked to her about Pete.

"Jessie?" he called out loudly. "Jessie, where are you?"

She called out in reply, and as he waited for her to appear he took a quick look around the living areas, almost as if the gun would be sitting in plain sight, just waiting for him to confiscate it. Just like it had been the other day it was eerie to be standing inside Pete and Jessie's home knowing of the violence that went on in there, a part of him always looking for the evidence that was almost never present. A missing ornament that had been broken in the heat of the moment, a dent in the refrigerator, a hole in the wall…hard evidence like that wasn't often left.

"Rick? What's going on?" Jessie questioned abruptly, entering from the garage. "Why are you here?"

Understanding why she would be frustrated with his unannounced arrival, he got straight to the point. There was no reason to ease into this gently. "Sam just told me that Pete has a gun. I'm here to retrieve it."

A flash of discomfort crossed Jessie's face, and she failed to hide it in time. "Rick, that's not true."

"He told me Pete threatened you all with it last night, that he had it sitting on the table while you ate dinner."

"No, he's mistaken," she tried to tell him. "He must have misunderstood."

"Where is it?"

She cringed, biting her lip nervously. "He didn't threaten us," she tried to say.

"Where is it?" Rick repeated his question, using everything he had to keep his voice even tempered, to not show his frustration to Jessie. Though it could often be frustrating trying to help a someone who wasn't ready for his help, he reminded himself again and again that he needed her to trust him, that he couldn't show anything other than a calm and understanding temperament. "Jessie? Where does he keep the gun?"

She sighed, closing her eyes for a moment. "I don't know."

"You have to know," he insisted, not buying her answer.

"I don't know where he keeps it," she insisted. "He'd never tell me that."

Neither needing nor wanting her invitation, Rick went to her bedroom door and let himself straight in, Jessie close on his heels. "Help me look for it," he said.

Pausing in the threshold of Pete and Jessie's bedroom, he took a moment to look around and gauge the layout, experience already telling him where he needed to look, where to start. He'd helped carry out many search warrants before, and had found drugs and weapons stashed in many places. In fact it was a competition of sorts to see who could find the most unique and unexpected hiding place. At the time of the outbreak, Rick had been in the lead, having found heroin hidden in the wall behind a loose electrical socket. By pure chance he'd noticed that the paint around the socket was chipped. Though he questioned whether Pete was this cunning, Rick looked around the bedroom before starting his search, taking note of the floor vents, baseboards, floorboards, artwork on the walls…if he didn't find it in the obvious places, he would look there next.

"Why didn't you tell me he had this gun?" he asked Jessie, going straight to Pete's night stand and opening the top drawer.

"I…" she started tentatively, still standing in the doorway. She sighed, thinking for a moment. "He hasn't left the house all day. I didn't have the opportunity to tell you."

"What about before?" he asked, opening the next drawer and rifling through the contents, trying not to mess things up too much. Slamming it shut, he opened the third.

"Last night was the first I saw of it, I swear. And he wasn't threatening us, he was just showing us."

Though he strongly disagreed, Rick kept quiet on that front. Looking back up, he saw Jessie still standing there. "Unless you want me looking through your night stand too, help me." Though she was very much under Pete's thumb, he doubted Pete would be so brazen as to keep it in Jessie's belongings. Rather than needing her help, he wanted her doing something, to have a task to keep her focus on.

As Jessie reluctantly went to her own nightstand and started looking through it, Rick turned to their bed, shining his flashlight behind the headboard and then getting on the floor to check underneath. Satisfied that it wasn't hidden beneath the mattress, he lifted the top comforter and checked along the sides, looking beneath the pillows and then the foot of the mattress. It was strange to be doing this without a pair of gloves, and in such a rush too…normally a search warrant was carried out slowly and methodically. But time was a luxury these days, and so he'd have to settle for a hasty, but thorough search.

Moving on to the tall chest of drawers, he rifled through the clothing before straightening it back up. Reaching to the back of the drawer, he ran his fingers along the back piece, both the inside and outside before removing the entire drawer entirely. Shining his flashlight, he checked the very back panel of wood before hastily returning the drawer, going about the same process with the next four drawers. Finding nothing, he returned to Pete's night stand and removed the drawers there too, having forgotten that the first time around. Still finding nothing, he moved on to their en suite bathroom, looking around and gauging the spaces in there. He overturned the laundry basket, unapologetically rifling through the clothing and checking the base before shoving it all back in, then turning his attention to the vanity unit.

"Tara, are we all clear?" he asked over his radio, needing the reassurance. This was taking longer than he wanted it to.

"All clear," she assured him. "No movement from the Infirmary. You need extra hands?"

"Where's Michonne? Is she coming yet?"

"Uh…I can't see her."

Rick swore under his breath, wondering how far away she would be. It was normal procedure that they carry radios while they were on watch, but if by chance she'd taken a post other than the watch tower, she might not have taken a radio. A few moments later Holly's voice came over the radio, enquiring as to what the problem was.

"Just stay on watch, Holly. Tara, wake up Sasha," he requested, even though he knew she'd be sleeping before her night shift in the tower. Still searching the bathroom, he checked in the toilet's cistern but found nothing.

"I'll try. She took a sleeping pill a few hours ago, she normally crashes pretty hard."

"Try," he insisted. "I might need her."

Sufficiently ruling out the bathroom, Rick made his way towards the walk in closet, stopping by the floor vents. He tugged at them until he was satisfied they hadn't been tampered with, but even then he took his flashlight out and shone it inside them, double checking just in case.

"I'm sorry, Jessie," he began, entering the closet and beginning to pat down the clothing that was hung up, taking care to be thorough with the bulkier items. "I know I said I could give you until tomorrow, but we need to kick Pete out today."

"No," she protested immediately. "No, Rick, you said tomorrow!"

"I know," he said apologetically. "But regardless of whether or not I find this gun, we're out of time."

"Why?" she demanded angrily. "You promised I would have until tomorrow."

"If I find the gun, he will notice it missing tonight," he reasoned with her, moving on and checking inside their shoes next. "I guarantee he will find it missing, and when he does it will turn ugly. If that happens, we might not be able to intervene in time. And if I don't find this gun, then I can't let him have access to it."

"He's not going to hurt me, Rick!" she insisted. "Honestly, he's not."

"I know you believe that," he agreed, returning to the bedroom. "But I don't share your confidence."

Glad when she didn't reply to this remark, Rick continued his search of the bedroom, being more thorough this time. Moving on to the windows, he checked between the blinds and the panes of glass before shining his flashlight over the window frame, looking for abnormalities that could indicate a section had been removed. His frustration increasing, he checked his watch and saw that it was almost four o'clock, hoping he didn't have to abandon his search. Taking a breath, he turned his attention to the artworks and pictures on the wall, carefully looking behind them and ensuring the whole wall was in tact.

"Where are you going now?" Jessie asked, following him as he hastily left the bedroom.

"Upstairs," he said shortly. He glanced at the garage as he passed it by, but decided to rule out the easier hiding places first. "You have attic space access, right?"

"In the guest bedroom."

Racing up the staircase, he mentally noted that they had storage beneath them, accessible from the garage only. Reaching the first floor, he passed Sam's bedroom and then quickly glanced into Ron's at the end of the hall…he wouldn't put it past Pete to hide his gun in his children's bedroom, he was just that type of asshole. Keeping his focus, he doubled back to the spare bedroom that doubled as an art studio too, looking up at the ceiling and seeing the square panel that would give them access to the attic. Taking a chair from the desk, he stepped up onto it and gently pushed the panel open.

"I know I'm asking a lot of you Jessie," he said compassionately, feeling as much as he could reach inside the roof. "I know I'm asking you to do something you don't want to do, but for Pete's sake, you need to support this."

"Otherwise you'll make him leave Alexandria?"

He looked her in the eye, pausing his search for just a moment. "Yes," he confirmed. "I will. It's in his best interests that he cooperates. If you support this, it will be easier for both of you."

Setting his flashlight just inside the roof cavity, he took a deep breath before swiftly pulling himself up through the square hole, his sore shoulder threatening to hamper him. Pete was a few inches taller than him, he'd be able to reach further into the roof, necessitating a more thorough investigation on his part. Positioning his elbows on adjacent sides of the ceiling, he supported himself as he took a good look around, awkwardly twisting around and looking behind himself. It was with both relief and frustration that he lowered himself back down to the spare bedroom and replaced the ceiling panel. Barely restraining the urge to ask Jessie if she was sure she didn't know where he kept the gun, he put the chair back beneath the desk and then took a moment to think, wondering what other locations he could rule out before he tackled the garage. Casting his mind back to the more unusual places people could hide things in their houses, Rick headed into Sam's bedroom.

"He wouldn't keep it in their bedrooms," Jessie told him, her voice sounding defeated, worn down.

Nodding, though he disagreed on the inside, Rick made his way through Sam's bedroom and into the adjoining bathroom he and Ron shared. Seeing a laundry chute in there, he reasoned with himself that if he didn't find it in there, he would call off the search. It would be better to abandon the search and simply continue watching Pete and Jessie's house until the construction crew came back than it would be to get caught. Opening the laundry chute, he was frustrated that there was only a small section visible before it took a sharp turn down. Reaching as far inside as he could, he felt around all four walls and found nothing.

"Fuck," he swore, pulling his arm out and standing up.

He couldn't help but start questioning himself, wondering what he had missed, if perhaps his search of the master bedroom hadn't been as thorough as he first thought. Though he had checked the floor vents, he hadn't checked the floorboards themselves, nor had he made a thorough inspection of the interior walls of the walk in closet. What if he had missed something? Determined to be thorough, but still risk adverse, he opted to check the bottom of the laundry chute before departing. Just as this thought occurred to him, he got the call he dreaded.

"Rick?" Tara said quickly. "Pete's on his way back. He's leaving the Infirmary now."

"Where's Michonne?" he replied instantly, already heading for the hallway.

There was a short pause before Tara answered. "She's on her way too, I can see her climbing down from the east tower."

"And Sasha?"

"She's vertical…vertical, and working on conscious. Pete's on the street, he's passing Aaron's house now."

He swore under his breath as he descended the stairs, Jessie following him in a panic. "Rick, you have to go," she told him urgently. "Now. You have to go."

"I am," he assured her, reaching the ground floor. Glancing at her, he saw the expression on her face, her frightfulness leaving him feeling uncertain for her. "Come with me," he suggested, fearing that Pete would pick up on her panic. "Come home with me right now."

"I can't," she shook her head. "I have to stay."

Stupidly he tried to reason with her. "You're panicked. Come with me now, he won't even notice you're gone."

"You need to go, Rick. Please!"

Tara spoke up now, interrupting his repeated request. "Pete's at the intersection."

Making a split second decision that went against his better judgement, he changed his path at the last moment, heading into the laundry room to check the chute rather than the garage to make his exit. Wanting to utilise every last second he had he rushed over and opened it, reaching up as high as he could while Jessie followed him in a panic.

"He's stopped," Tara said over the radio.

Just as she said this, Rick's heart also stopped, his fingertips brushing over something that definitely did not belong inside the laundry chute. Freezing for a moment, he ignored Jessie's pleading that he leave, dividing his attention between what he could feel inside the chute and the radio on his belt. As he waited for Tara to elaborate, he closed his eyes and concentrated on what was beneath his fingertips…if it was a gun, he didn't want to accidentally discharge a round.

"Why has he stopped?" he asked, using his left hand to hold down the button on the radio. As Tara replied he reached in further and ran his fingers along a smooth piece of rounded metal, feeling the bumps of a circular chamber…he had found the gun. But there was a strange texture around it, something that was holding it in place.

"I don't know," she replied. "He's at the intersection, he's just standing there."

Unable to determine what it was he was feeling, he crouched down lower and then looked inside properly, surprised to see the small revolver was well secured by three long pieces of velcro that had been crudely glued into place. Securing it there, the velcro prevented it from being accidentally dislodged by falling laundry, and as quickly as he could Rick tore the velcro off and took possession of the gun. He breathed a sigh of relief as he extracted himself from the laundry chute and looked at what he had found, but his relief turned to startling realisation…this gun belonged to him. It was the Colt Detective Special he had hidden in his walk in closet, securely locked away in a safe that only he, Carol, Daryl and Carl knew about. He was absolutely certain that it was the same gun, recognising the black grips he himself had put on it. This was his gun…how did Pete have it?

"He's on the move again," Tara said. "He's heading home."

"Rick, you -"

"I know, I'm going," he assured Jessie, showing her the gun as he walked past her. Glancing into the living room as he passed it, he peered through the windows and caught a brief glimpse of Pete's approach. "Are you sure you won't come with me?" he asked again, opening the chamber and removing the rounds.

"He's expecting me to be home," she insisted, shaking her head. "Just go, please."

Accepting this, he retreated into the garage as he tipped the rounds into his pocket, next reaching back and slipping the revolver into the tight gap between his duty belt and regular belt. Making sure it was well secured, he opened the exterior door that led to the small fenced in court yard. But just as he took the fist step outside, Tara's voice came over the radio again.

"Rick, wait…he's stopped again."

Swearing under his breath, he paused where he stood, taking his radio off his belt. "Where?" he asked, turning the volume down.

"By his front porch. He…" she trailed off. "He's going around the far side of the house now."

Swearing under his breath, Rick tried to catch up to Pete's strange behaviour, to figure out what the hell he was doing. Knowing he'd be approaching the side and that Tara would no longer be able to see him, Rick gently closed the door and headed back inside the house again, trying to reassure Jessie as best he could. She looked panic stricken by what was going on, an emotion he was beginning to share. What the hell was Pete playing at? Did he some how know that Rick was there? There was no discernible way he could possibly know…

Standing in the hallway between the kitchen and garage, he was blind to what Pete was doing, and he forced himself to wait a moment. Before he made his exit out the front door he needed to wait until he heard the side gate opening, or until the double doors in the dining room opened. Pete could be going to either of them, but he had to sure which way he was coming. Looking at Jessie and silently reassuring her with a short nod he waited impatiently, continually looking between the garage and kitchen. His heart pounding, he raised the radio again.

"Where the hell is Michonne?" he asked urgently, needing her back up.

"She…oh shit," Tara cursed. "She and Carl have stopped to talk, she must not have a radio. I'm sending Sasha over right now."

Swearing under his breath, Rick felt a very discernible sense of apprehension, realising he might have pushed his luck too far. Every instinct he had was telling him to confront Pete now, to get this over and done with. Certainly it would go more smoothly if it was done with someone like Abraham and Glenn backing him up, for Pete wouldn't respond well to female authority. But no matter how he argued with himself, Rick could not decide how he really wanted things to go. If he kicked Pete out and killed him he'd protect Carl from the truth about Shane, but potentially compromise Maggie's health and lose trust of the Alexandrians. If he let Pete stay, no matter how well the transition went Pete would not give up his grudge against him any time soon.

"Jessie, come home with me now," he whispered urgently, trying to convince her. "I can keep you safe there, your boys too. You don't have to face him."

She looked torn, her features fraught with indecision as she looked between the garage and kitchen, she too worried about where Pete was entering. "You said tomorrow," she pleaded weakly, asking for more time.

"If he finds you in this state he'll hurt you, you know he will," he reasoned with her. "This is happening now. I'm not asking you…"

The sound of the rear gate opening startled both of them, and they both turned to look into the garage. Stepping back so that Pete wouldn't be able to see him when he entered the garage he turned to Jessie and looked her in the eye, refusing to back down.

"Now," he stated, giving her one last chance to do this willingly, rather than to be forced. "Let's go."

Her eyes wet with tears, Jessie hesitated for only a moment before she nodded in agreement, looking relieved. There was no time to breath a sigh of relief, for the sound of someone entering through the side door in the garage spurred Rick into action. Putting his hand on the back of Jessie's shoulder he swiftly ushered her to go ahead of him, letting her lead the way through the kitchen. Getting both her and the gun out of the house would buy them some time to wait until the construction crew came back. Hearing the sound of the garage door closing loudly he glanced over his shoulder and picked up the pace, but ahead of him Jessie came to a dead stop with a short gasp.

Doing the same, Rick looked around to find Pete inexplicably standing in the middle of the dining room, looking equally as shocked as him. Rick stared at him in momentary confusion before glancing back to the garage where he could still hear someone, and it was then that he realised his mistake. How could he have been so stupid? Ever since their fight on Tuesday, Ron had taken to walking home on the road behind the houses, doing what was necessary to avoid Carl. It was him entering the garage, it was his arrival that made Pete stop in the intersection. Rick turned back to Pete and observed him in silence, watching the way he peered at he and Jessie in suspicion, his chin jutted out as he straightened his shoulders. When Pete took a step forward Rick could see his shiny forehead, the way his hairline was damp with sweat and his clothing unkempt. Despite seeing Maggie for an ultrasound, Pete was almost certainly inebriated.

"Rick…" Pete started dimly, slowly coming forward. "What are you doing here?'

Jessie turned to Rick, looking to him for what to do, for guidance. Keeping his hand on the back of her shoulder, he glanced back towards the front door where he could see Sasha apprehensively standing on the front porch, trying to gauge the situation. Knowing what to do he turned back to Jessie and tried to make her move, but she couldn't. Fear paralysed her, for in this moment she could see that things were not going to go smoothly, that the easy transition Rick had promised her was falling apart right before her eyes.

"Pete," she started, sounding as though she was going to placate him. "P-"

"What are you doing here?" Pete asked again, barely sparing his wife a glance. Having entered the house through the dining room doors, he looked at Rick as he moved past the table and came closer.

"Listen to me," Jessie said, her voice heavy with emotion.

"I'm going to have to ask you to leave, Rick," Pete continued, ignoring her.

There was a short pause as Jessie drew a deep breath, bracing herself for what she said next. "No."

In disbelief, Pete finally looked towards her now, giving Rick a glimpse at the man that had terrorised her for so many years. His eyes narrowed, his head tilting as he slowly started towards her…even hunched over Pete was taller than her, able to intimidate her without even trying.

"Excuse me?" he asked defensively, lowering his voice.

Squaring her shoulders, Jessie stepped back at Rick's prompting, following his lead. " _You_ need to leave," she corrected him.

As Pete advanced even closer Rick heard the sound of the front door opening, but he didn't dare look away. Sasha was there, calmly entering the house and standing on Jessie's other side, another person there backing her up. At the same time, a figure appeared in the hallway behind the kitchen, but not one Rick wanted to see. Slowly entering the kitchen, Ron looked around at everyone in the house, his expression empty as he took in the scene and realised what must be happening. With a long sigh he dumped his schoolbag to the floor and then stood there to watch it unfold.

"What were you talking about?" Pete asked softly.

Though Jessie's eyes darted over to Ron, Rick was glad to see that her son's presence seemed to strengthen her, the desire to protect him giving her the boost of determination she needed. "Just go, Pete." Her voice sounded both tired and relieved, indicating how long she'd waited for this moment, the moment she hadn't been able to create by herself.

"What have you been saying to each other?" Pete continued lowly, edging closer and closer. "What have you been doing?" he shouted at her.

At this sudden outburst, Sasha took action, gently taking Jessie by the upper arm and ushering her back just as Rick stepped forward. Calmly intervening, he looked Pete in the eye and raised one hand in front of himself, ready for anything. "Pete, you and I going to leave," he stated with authority. "I'm giving you thirty minutes to pack your things."

Turning to him, Pete started forward angrily, forcing Sasha and Jessie to make a hasty retreat back towards the door. "You come into my house, and-"

"Pete. You are leaving," he repeated, strategically taking a step to his right. As Pete followed his direction, he quickly glanced at Sasha, the subtle wave of his hand telling her to get Jessie out of there.

"No, you're leaving," Pete growled. "Right now!"

"Ron, no," Jessie said urgently, darting forward as her son went towards his father. "Come with me, please."

"Did Carl put you up to this?" Ron demanded, looking to Rick.

The situation escalated very quickly, Sasha forced to leave Jessie by the door before rushing towards Ron, forcibly restraining him as he too advanced on Rick, blinded by his own immaturity. Hearing a disturbance out on the street, Rick took a chance and looked over his shoulder, glad to see Tara outside calling to someone, most likely Michonne. Seeing that back up wasn't far, he turned back to Pete, determined to stand his ground.

"It's up to you how this goes, Pete. But either way, you are leaving."

"No, he's not!" Ron shouted angrily. "Stay out of our business."

"Pete?"

Angry and spurred on by his son's support, Pete reacted in the same manner. Still advancing on Rick, he let his anger and violence speak for him. "You think you're the law?" he questioned loudly, getting up close and personal. "You think you actually have a say in anything here?"

"Step back," Rick ordered calmly, needing to stall Pete's inevitable attack for as long as possible. From the corner of his eye he saw someone running out on the street…Michonne and Carl.

"Who the hell do you think you are?" Pete shouted, stepping even closer.

Feeling his self-control lapse momentarily, Rick spoke with absolute honesty. "Someone who's trying not to kill you."

Incensed, Pete took a sudden swing at him, one which he had anticipated. Swiftly stepping back as Jessie screamed, he returned the gesture with a punch of his own, seeking only to create space between them, but Pete recovered faster than he expected. Though he staggered for a moment, he came back up straight away, his elbow catching Rick across the face.

"You want to stop now," he warned him, but it was too late.

Overcome by fury, Pete lunged at him with an almighty yell, grabbing the front of his shirt and forcing him backwards. "You come into my house, an-"

Using Pete's own force against him, Rick grabbed his forearms swiftly sidestepped him, the manoeuvre allowing him to turn the tables and throw Pete against the wall instead. Wanting that to be the end of it, he wrenched Pete's hands off his shirt and then stepped away, listening to Jessie screaming at Pete and to Ron screaming at him. Not knowing when to give up, Pete lunged again, this time catching Rick around the middle and forcing him down. There was the sound of smashing glass as the two men crashed into the coffee table, the breath being knocked out of Rick's body as Pete landed on top of him, but adrenaline and instinct kicked in, his body taking over in order to defend himself.

Lashing out with his elbow, he managed to strike the front of Pete's throat, the blow making him falter and cough as he tried to draw breath, giving Rick the moment he needed. Repeating the motion, he managed to push Pete aside enough to get out from underneath him, but that was when the second attack came, this one in the form of someone Rick couldn't hurt. Ron lunged at him in a moment of fury, trying to protect his father who he loved despite everything. Not wanting to hurt the teen, Rick braced himself and then stepped aside, letting him wildly lunge and miss.

"Ron, no!" Jessie was screaming. "Stop it, now!"

Sasha was on him in seconds, regaining her grasp around his arms as she struggled to get him out of the way. He fought against her violently, the burning anger on his face distracting Rick at the worst moment, leaving him open to Pete's next attack as the situation escalated. Before he could regain his footing Pete was back on his feet and coming at him, wielding a long iron fire poker. He took a wide swing, one which Rick was prepared for, and rather than try to avoid it, he instead worked with it to his advantage. After Pete swung and missed, he seized the iron bar with both hands, the two of them wrestling for control until Rick shoved it towards him, following it up with his knee to Pete's groin. As he tumbled down to the floor with the bar still in his hands, Michonne burst through the front door with Carl hot on her heels.

Distracted by Carl's arrival, for he didn't want his son any more involved, Rick was slower to react when Pete scrambled to his feet and came at him again. Jessie screamed again as he took another wild swing with the bar, forcing Rick to move back, trapping himself in front of the window just as Michonne acted. Seizing Carl by the collar she roughly wrenched him back with one hand, the other reaching for something on her duty belt, but she was too slow. Pete swung again, and for a second time the two men wrestled for control of the poker, and in a moment of pure rage Pete lunged, using the bar to further his momentum. As he used it to shove him backwards the two men lost their footing, and Rick braced himself for what he knew was coming. There was a brief moment of being airborne before the pain struck the back of his head and shoulders, shattered glass cascading over them as he and Pete went soaring through the front window.

* * *

Almost ten minutes had passed since Rick left, ten minutes in which Carrie nervously awaited the outcome of his search for Pete's gun. Unable to leave Judith and Sam she hovered nervously by the front windows, looking up the street for some indication of what was going on. She had seen Eugene leave the second house, quickly followed by Rick who went straight for Jessie, but that was all there was to see. And so Carrie waited, nervously praying that Judith didn't need anything other than her supervision…she'd never been alone with the baby…what would she do if she started crying? Being able to care for Judith felt like a litmus test of whether or not she was good enough for Rick, whether she was worthy of being a part of his immediate family. She knew she was the only one holding herself to this standard, and unfairly too, but that didn't unburden her worries.

Suddenly Carol appeared in the fields behind Bob and Natalie's house, peering into each of the garden beds as she made her way home to her. Breathing a sigh of relief Carrie went to the front door, glad that Carol was coming home, that there was a suitable adult who could take care of Judith should her sunny disposition suddenly change. But Judith wasn't the only problem underway right now, and Carrie knew that Rick would potentially need help…was anyone coming to back him up? Unlocking the door Carrie went outside and met Carol on the porch.

"Why was the door locked?" she frowned in confusion.

"Rick asked me to," Carrie answered, ushering Carol to stay on the porch for a few moments. As soon as Sam saw her, he'd want to talk and hang out with her. "I'm glad you're here."

Carol's brow furrowed as she looked at her. "Is something going on? Eugene told me I had to come home straight away."

She sent a silent prayer of thanks to Rick, realising he must have sent Eugene to find her some support. "You don't know what's going on?" When Carol shook her head, Carrie hastily explained the situation, keeping her voice low just in case Sam was trying to listen.

Swearing under her breath, Carol turned and looked up the street towards Jessie's house, crossing her arms across her chest. "I take it Pete's not there."

"I don't think so."

There was a long pause, the two women standing side by side watching the street. Looking at her sidelong, she hoped that Carol would know what to do now, that she knew how to help Rick. The only instructions he had given her were to wait at home with Sam and Judith…but then what? Was that all? She knew he wasn't brushing her aside, that given the lack of forewarning he needed to handle this himself, but she hoped he had back up of some kind coming to help him.

"What do we do now?" she finally asked.

"There's only one thing we can do. Wait."

"Wait?" Carrie questioned, looking at Carol incredulously as she went inside the house. "That's all?"

"That's what we've been asked to do," she stated lowly. "We'll keep an eye on the street, wait and listen."

Reluctantly agreeing, Carrie closed the door behind herself and locked it, cracking a small smile when Sam cheerfully greeted Carol. Letting her take over with the kids, she went to the gun safe and opened it, glancing over her shoulder as she entered the code and took out her Ruger. Sam already seemed nervous and upset, she didn't want him to see her getting her gun out. Subtly slipping it into her holster, her heart jolting as she remembered that because of her broken wrist she now wore it on her left leg, not her right. Three minutes passed in silence, Carol bustling around to keep Sam and Judith entertained while Carrie watched the street. Nervously waiting for something to happen, anything, she strummed her fingers against her cast. It constantly blew her mind how quickly things changed these days…there had been no warning that something was about to go wrong. She and Rick had spent a great day together, had enjoyed one another's company…and now this?

Broken from her thoughts, Carrie's interest was piqued when she looked up the road and saw a lone figure approaching. Although they were too far away to identify, their height and blond hair clearly indicated that it had to be Pete. Her first instinct was to act, to go and back Rick up while he searched Jessie's house, but she heeded Carol's advice, trusting it. She signalled to Carol and indicated to the window, reassured of her decision to wait when Carol looked out at Pete and then returned to Sam. Watching him, she frowned at the way he was walking so slowly, curious as to why he had stopped in the middle of the street. Before she could ponder this question much longer, he turned right and headed up the road between his house and Erin's, disappearing from her line of sight.

A minute later Sasha appeared from the second house and raced over to Jessie's, hovering awkwardly by the front door before letting herself in. Nervous as to what was happening, Carrie followed Sasha's lead somewhat by stepping out onto her own front porch, wanting to better see and hear anything that might be going on. She was met with the sound of shouting, the disturbance escalating as Michonne and Carl appeared sprinting down the street, and from there things happened very quickly. Knowing that something was going terribly wrong, Carrie closed the front door behind herself and left Carol with the kids. She didn't know what was going on, nor did she have any kind of plan in mind, but she went anyway, the situation presenting itself to her before she even had time to think.

As she passed the second house, the sound of screaming began. Before her very eyes the front window suddenly smashed in a hail of broken glass and flailing limbs, two figures tumbling through the window and out onto the porch. The screaming intensified, matched only by the furious yells that came from the two figures who were currently fighting in a messy tangle of shattered glass and patio furniture as others came rushing out the front door. Instinctually knowing who it was, Carrie set off at a run, watching the chaos unfold as Michonne ushered Carl down onto the street and away from the fight, trying to keep him back.

Just as Carrie reached the house the two figures separated for a brief moment, Pete getting to his feet and showcasing the blood that streamed down his face. On the patio beneath him was Rick, who lashed out with a sharp kick to Pete's knee before scrambling back over shattered glass. The two men suddenly dived for something nearby, an object that Pete snatched with a loud yell of success. He raised a long, metal bar above his head, screams breaking out as he swung it down hard. Rick managed to roll out of the way just in time, the tip of the bar hitting the patio exactly where he had just been laying, the loud thunk indicating its force. Scrambling back to his feet, Rick appeared to stumble for a moment before he straightened up, and there was a momentary lapse as the two men looked at each other, rivulets of blood coursing down both of their arms and faces.

"Dad!" Sam screamed, appearing out of no where behind Carrie. Only just managing to stop him, she seized him by the back of his shirt and roughly hauled him to a stop with her only good hand, glad when he didn't struggle against her any further. "Dad, stop it! Stop!"

Jessie stood in the front doorway, crying and begging Pete to stop. As Rick tried to lead him away Pete suddenly lunged for his wife, screaming at her to shut up. Acting quickly, Rick darted forward to protect her, his movement enough to distract him. When Pete looked back around he continued making a retreat backwards, trying to draw him away. Shouting at him, Pete thrust the bar at Rick again, his threat clear. Not responding, Rick calmly led him away from the house and down the front steps, though his calm facade broke a second later. There were multiple screams as Pete suddenly took another swing with the bar, forcing Rick to duck and stumble out of the way.

"That's how you want to play it?" Rick challenged loudly, still backing away. "Come on then!"

Pete followed him out onto the street and away from his family, raising the bar and swinging again. Residents were flooding out of their houses now, someone calling out for Deanna as they watched from afar, screaming as Pete swung at Rick for a third time. Her heart leaping into her throat, Carrie gasped as Rick expertly wrapped both hands around each end of the bar, driving his knee into Pete's stomach and then wrenching it from his grasp. There was a loud clatter as he threw the bar aside, but Pete was on him again, forcing him to move back as he defended himself. They fought for a few moments, both of them successfully landing heavy blows as the crowd of horrified onlookers grew. Getting in a lucky shot, Pete landed a heavy punch to just below Rick's sternum, a blow that took him by surprise. His arms falling from their protective stance, he stumbled back a few steps and then sank to his knees, Pete advancing on him again.

Rick seemed to go down quickly, unable to fight back as Pete got his hands around his throat and held him down. Carrie watched on in horror as Rick began struggling, unable to help him while she was holding back Sam. Just as Michonne saw her moment and went to assist Jessie beat her to it, rushing forward and grabbing her husband by the shoulders. Begging him to stop, she desperately tried to pull him off, stopping only when Pete swung around and hit her. As she fell to her feet and hit the ground hard Rick managed to shove Pete off of him, a few sharp jabs to his side gaining him the advantage.

Pinning him down, Rick yelled through gritted teeth as he punched him hard, catching his breath before doing it again. They fought violently, Rick still trying to maintain control as Pete struggled beneath him, kicking and punching in attempt to free himself. Despite faltering earlier, Rick somehow managed to stay the course, deflecting the worst of the blows as Pete slowly began to lose steam. As a last minute attempt, Pete up and set his hands on Rick's gun holster, clumsily managing to wrap his fingers around the handle of his colt. He tugged and pulled, desperately trying to seize the weapon from the holster, but when he failed he reached further around Rick's back.

"Dad!" Carl suddenly cried out, managing to dart around Glenn who had been keeping him back.

Panicked by something, Carl launched himself towards the two men, the fear in his eyes evident. In a moment of horror, Carrie realised what Pete was grabbing for, seeing the unmistakable shape of a small gun in the back of Rick's duty belt. Not realising, Rick's attention lapsed in that crucial moment. Turning around to shove Carl away he exposed the gun to Pete's reach, who grabbed the handle and violently wrenched it into his possession. There was a painful moment in which realisation dawned on Rick, turning back from Carl to find the gun pressed against his lower stomach. Looking Pete in the eye Rick seemed to freeze as the situation unfolded, his body tensing as Pete pulled the trigger.

Carrie screamed before she could even think about it, running towards Rick even though she was too far away, even though she couldn't do anything to stop it. But even though she watched Pete pull the trigger, even though she saw the hammer draw back and then release, the gunshot that should have mortally wounded Rick never came. The loud shot everyone had braced themselves for fell silent, and this was when Rick seemed to snap back to the fight. Growling angrily, he knocked the gun away and then punched Pete, the motion making his head snap to the side. Though he raised his fist to strike again, Rick looked up as Michonne rushed forward.

To Carrie's utter disbelief Rick scrambled away from Pete and then lay down, turning his face into the asphalt and covering it with his arms. As everyone else began backing away, Michonne advanced forward with a black aerosol can and pointed it at Pete, spraying it directly in his face in two swift bursts. The effect of the capsicum spray was immediate, the attack causing him to abandon any effort to attack Rick again. Howling in agony, he collapsed back onto the road and clutched his face, thrashing around as the pain engulfed him.

"Everyone get back!" Michonne shouted again, standing a few feet away with the spray ready to fire again.

Feeling her own eyes begin to sting, Carrie blinked rapidly as she followed the order, back up a few steps as she looked to Rick, unable to comprehend the relief that he was alright. He lay on the ground where he had retreated, but a moment later he tentatively raised his head and then pushed himself up. Taking a moment to catch his breath, he gave Michonne a nod of thanks before letting Glenn and Sasha help him to his feet, the three of them advancing on Pete together. Without sympathy, Rick squinted his eyes as he withdrew his handcuffs and slapped one around Pete's wrist, forcibly removing it from his face as Glenn pushed him onto his front. In seconds, they cuffed Pete's hands behind his back and hauled him upright onto his knees.

Emitting a stream of vulgar threats, Pete swore as he pressed his eyes against the front of his shoulder, desperate for relief. Catching a glimpse of his red and puffy face, Carrie found a smile crossing her face, immensely satisfied by the excruciating pain he was in. It seemed Rick shared her satisfaction, for he stood in front of Pete looking at him in exasperation, and when Spencer arrived with a bottle of water he didn't rush to administer it. Taking his sweet time, he uncapped the lid and took a long sip, splashing it over his own face and trying to wipe off the blood. Perhaps tired of listening to Pete's screaming, Rick directed Glenn to stand behind him and force his eyes open.

"Look up," he said shortly, putting his hand under Pete's chin and tilting his head back. Though he was desperate for relief, Pete snarled and pulled away, baring his teeth in warning. "If you bite me, I'll spray you myself," Rick warned him.

Seizing him underneath the jaw, he forced Pete to look up before trickling the water into his eyes, looking grimly satisfied by the gasps of pain he made. With patience Pete did not deserve, he trickled the entire bottle of water into his eyes before stepping back and looking at him in disgust. Panting, Rick pushed his hair back off his forehead and looked around, taking note of who was around and meeting Carrie's eyes for a moment. Still processing everything that had happened, and still experiencing the fear she felt when Pete tried to shoot Rick, she chose not to say or do anything, not trusting herself. Her heart was pounding, her hands trembling…all she wanted to do was run to him and make sure that he was alright, but she couldn't. Carl was there before her, his brow pinched in concern as he checked that his dad was okay, taking his rightful place by his side.

When Rick and Michonne hauled Pete to his feet and roughly led him towards the Infirmary, an unusual hush fell over the crowd, although this lasted only moments. As shocked murmurs began to spread, Carrie looked around and observed the fall out, trying to make sense of it all, to figure out what had happened. Jessie sat on the curb clutching her mouth, trying her best to comfort Sam who was crying profusely. Ron on the other hand seemed enraged by what had happened, and it was taking both Glenn and Tara to calm him down, to send him away to cool down. He was yelling furiously, Rick and Carl's name both audible as he sought someone to blame other than his father.

Carrie stood idle as Rick's group all stepped into the roles that needed to be filled, Sasha hastily reorganising the watch posts to be filled while Eugene awkwardly dispersed the crowd. This was not the first time she felt displaced within her own group, unsure of what her particular role was in the time of crisis…everyone seemed to know where they were needed except her. She looked around, trying to find something useful to do, some way to help, and it was then that she remembered her role. Rick had given her only one task during this process, one of the most important ones according to him, and that was being there for Jessie.

Bracing herself, Carrie pushed aside her own panic, her concern for what had happened to Rick, and then she crossed the road to where Jessie and Sam sat on the curb. She didn't know what she was going to say to them, how she could possibly provide any comfort, but she had to try, she had to be there for Jessie. But despite her good intentions, the moment Jessie looked up and saw Carrie's approach her expression changed, anguish turning into thinly veiled anger. To Jessie it didn't matter what had precipitated the events of today, it didn't matter that Rick's group were trying to help her…they had upheaved her life. They were the ones who had changed things, who had taken away the hope that Pete might one day change, and that included Carrie too. The moment she saw Carrie coming to approach her Jessie got to her feet, her eyes tearful as she seized Sam by the hand and ushered him to his feet.

"Are you done helping me now?" she asked loudly, her accusation clear and loud for all to hear. Tears rolling down her cheeks, she looked Carrie in the eye as she began retreating back into her home. "Huh, Carrie? Are you done helping me?"

Knowing better than to respond out loud, Carrie said nothing at all, trying not to take Jessie's words to heart. She had known this was going to be difficult, Rick had warned her that Jessie might blame them should things go wrong. Hell, Carrie couldn't blame her for feeling this way. They had taken away the possibility that Pete would change, they had made her face reality, and reality was a cold hearted bitch some times.

 _No, I'm not done helping yet._

* * *

Hi readers, please take the time to quickly read this paragraph for me!

I guess you could say that the events of Chapter 35 onward kick starts off a new phase in Rick and Carrie's relationship. So far they've encountered problems, but this will be the first time they've encountered these problems as a real couple. They're going to face disagreements and conflict (major conflict at that), because you can't have anything you haven't worked for and earned, not even a relationship. Rick and Carrie's relationship is going to be tested, and so it should be! These characters are also going to make some poor choices, the kind of choices that are forced on them because of some deviances of this story from the TV show, and some choices that reflect the human nature of people - they're flawed, imperfect, capable of doing shitty things and making bad decisions. These characters are going to fuck up, but they're trying their best, and I implore you as the reader to stick it out!

I can't make many promises without giving away plot, but what I can promise you is that t **here will be no drama and angst just for the sake of character torture - everything has a reason and a story.** I can also promise you that everything gets a resolution (at least as far as I can see right now). I love where the characters of Rick and Carrie have taken me through this story, and I really hope you love it too, but I implore you to stick it out through their difficult periods! There is light! I'm currently starting the final chapter of this story (53), and so far it looks like things are going to wrap up very well (in my opinion anyway).

Thanks again for reading everyone, I love writing this story, and I live for your reviews! Thank you to my awesome readers.


	36. Chapter 36

The mood was grim in the Infirmary, unnecessary chatter kept to a minimum as they each tried to avoid acknowledging the elephant in the room - although this particular elephant was currently bitching and moaning as Glenn and Abraham washed the mace out of his eyes with baby shampoo. Tolerating the painful sting as Denise dabbed at the cuts on his face with disinfectant, Rick looked towards the hallway where Michonne was standing as an extra guard, backing up Abraham and Glenn. There was little doubt that Pete was going no where, not with his hands cuffed behind his back and his eye balls feeling like they were on fire, but they were determined to be cautious. He'd already proven himself extremely violent with the right provocation, and none of them needed a reenactment of what he had tried to do to Rick…or to Jessie.

While Denise applied small strips of medical tape to the cuts on his face, Maggie and Rosita were tending to the cuts on his scalp, shoulders and back. Going as gently as they could, they were pulling shards of glass from his skin, dabbing at the wounds with disinfectant and then taping the larger ones up. It was a slow but necessary process, and as he resisted the urge to rub his own sore eyes, which must have caught a little of the mace too, he looked up at Denise's request. With a steady hand she applied fine strips of tape across the cuts on his cheek and nose, her eyes narrowed in concentration. Each strip of tape that held the cuts together brought relief from the sting, and as per her instructions he tried to keep his facial features as still as possible, giving the tape time to properly adhere to his skin.

"Unless you're willing to let Pete stitch you up," Denise began apologetically. "These cuts on your face are probably going to scar."

Rick smiled in amusement, though he hastily relaxed his features as he felt the tape pulling. "He'd sooner take out my eye with the needle."

"Well," she started awkwardly, adding a little more tape to the cut that curved around his eyebrow. "Yeah…right now that's probably true. These ones on your jaw you can hide with some stubble…as for the rest? I hope you're happy with being runner up in a beauty contest."

Grateful for her attempt to inject some humour into the tense moment, Rick thanked her quietly. He would quietly admit to himself that he was feeling shaken by what had just happened, by the sudden way his plans had spun completely out of his control. His haste to retrieve the gun Pete had threatened Jessie with meant their timeline for Pete's removal was brought forward far too quickly, the resultant situation leaving Jessie an absolute mess. On one hand Rick felt badly for forcing her into this situation by going to get the gun and being caught in the process, while on the other hand he knew he had no choice. There was no way he could let Pete come home and have access to a gun. No matter how calm things seemed, a man like Pete could turn in an instant, and with access to a gun and the right provocation, he could have killed someone in seconds, far too quickly for anyone on watch to intervene. Rick knew he had made the right choice in going to get the gun straight away, though he still cursed the construction crew's awful timing. They'd arrived back less than five minutes after the fight concluded. Had they been ten minutes earlier, things could have gone very differently.

Jessie would be alright for the time being. She had Carrie and Carol by her side, helping her pack some things for Pete to take, while also trying to manage Ron and Sam's handling of the situation. Thinking of Ron, of the way he had tried to defend his father, Rick knew he couldn't hold his behaviour against him. Ron was fifteen, he was a child. He shouldn't be held accountable to the way he reacted to a very dire situation, particularly when Pete's violence and manipulation had controlled his life for so many years. Ron loved his father no matter what, and Rick needed to acknowledge that going forward. He was just another aspect of this situation that needed to be properly managed.

With a long sigh he got to thinking about Carl. During the fight Carl had darted forward in a panic, fearfully yelling for him, and in the moment that Rick turned around to push his son out of harm's way his distraction had allowed Pete to gain possession of the confiscated gun. That was what had shaken him most, the feeling of the hard metal tip pressed against his lower stomach as he turned back around with horrifying realisation. He'd reacted too slowly, mentally paralysed by the fear for his life that he felt, for in that moment he didn't recall emptying the chamber of the gun. In that moment, he was facing the possible end of his life, and the fear had been genuine.

Kicking himself mentally, Rick hated to think about his reaction, or his lack thereof. Pete had pulled the trigger before Rick disarmed him. If that gun had indeed been loaded, Rick's slow reaction would have been his death sentence. Dwelling on it, he tried to figure out what it was that had stalled his normally swift reactions…Carl had been close by, and he'd also been dimly aware of Carrie screaming. Was that it? Was the combination of two people he loved being nearby Pete with a loaded gun enough to distract him from his own safety?

"Hey," he flinched, feeling a rather sharp pain on his upper arm where Rosita was working.

"Sorry," she apologised softly, though her eyes widened in triumph a moment later. "I win," she declared, using her tweezers to show them the piece of glass she'd removed from his arm. Half an inch in length, it was thankfully the largest piece so far. "Beat that."

Getting more and more frustrated with how long this was taking, he watched as Denise carefully dabbed away the blood on his hands, determining the sources of it and then investigating the cuts for more shards of glass. They'd been at this for twenty minutes now, twenty minutes in which Rick should have been attending to other things. He hated sitting stationary like this, for he continually got the feeling that there was something he had missed, something he had forgotten to do. Replaying the events of that afternoon, he tried to pinpoint exactly what it was that was bothering him. He knew he'd need to speak to Deanna, to debrief with her, and then he'd need to speak to Pete too…but there was something else too.

A low whistle from Michonne distracted him from his thoughts, and he looked up at her. She jerked her head down the hallway, and the sound of voices growing louder indicated that Pete was coming out. Watching on in interest, he hid the smile that wanted to cross his face upon seeing Pete emerge from the hallway. Like him, Pete had suffered from the shattered glass, his face, hair and shoulders covered in smears and droplets, but it was his eyes that really warmed Rick's heart. Still suffering from the mace, Pete's eyes were watery and bloodshot, his eyelids puffy and red. As he came out escorted by Abraham, his hands cuffed behind his back, the look he gave Rick was one of pure loathing.

"We're ready for some first aid," Abraham said, leading Pete into the room at the front of the infirmary.

At this, Denise gave a reluctant sigh, her expression glum as she looked at Rosita. "Scissors, Paper, Rock?"

"He's going to need stitches. You don't want the pleasure of sticking a needle through his skin before the local anaesthetic takes effect?" she questioned wryly.

Denise shook her head. "Knowing Pete, he'd suck all the fun out of it."

Understanding the root of Denise's reluctance, for Pete was nothing short of a bully to her, Rosita nodded in agreement and then pulled off her gloves. With the parting warning that Denise owed her, she collected some supplies and then followed Pete into the front room. While Denise took up her position at the back of his shoulder, Rick picked up the spare tweezers and occupied himself with his hands and forearms, pulling a few more shards out. The three of them fell into silence as they worked, Rick in deep thought about what he was going to do next. He would confer with Deanna about the longer term arrangements, but for now at least they would accommodate Pete in the Infirmary over night. He could sleep on the hospital bed with one hand cuffed to the frame and a guard to watch over him…given the violence he had displayed that afternoon, and the prior planning required to steal a gun from Rick he knew better than to underestimate Pete's determination.

"Shit," he swore under his breath, coming to a startling realisation. He sat up a little straighter, his mind racing as his eyes widened in horror. The gun Pete had…he had stolen it from him.

"What is it?" Maggie asked, looking at him in alarm when he stood up.

"I have to go," he said shortly, not wanting to explain until he was sure of what he was thinking.

"Wait," Denise immediately protested. "You need to let us finish."

"I'll come back," he assured her, looking around for his shirt. Finding it in tatters on the floor, he picked it up and shook out the remaining glass before slipping it over his shoulders. Securing a few buttons, he glanced towards the front room where Pete was, briefly considering the idea of confronting him about it.

Ignoring Denise's protests, Rick swiftly departed the infirmary and headed for home, flinching as his shirt brushed against open cuts. Hearing footsteps, he was unsurprised to find Maggie hastily catching up with him, and he knew he'd have to fill her in. The way her hand rested on her swollen belly, twenty six weeks pregnant now, served to remind him exactly why he was taking such risks with the way he handled Pete. He couldn't kill him, no matter how justified it would have felt. She was developing preeclampsia, her high blood pressure worsened by the spectre of family history for the condition. The health of both Maggie and her baby were of great concern, and it would be neglectful to deny that they needed Pete for that.

"Rick? Would you please tell me what's going on?" she asked bluntly, her southern accent making her sound all the more stern.

As they walked past Jessie's house he glanced up at the broken window, hearing the sound of an argument between Jessie and Ron. This was not going to be an easy transition for the family, not now anyway. Seeing her sweeping glass on the front porch he avoided catching Carrie's eye when she looked up, not wanting to worry her or stop her from what she was doing.

"The gun Pete had? The one I went to get? I think it's mine."

"How could he get one of your guns?" Maggie tried to reason with him. "You open your safe twenty times a day, you would have noticed it missing."

"I have another safe too," he explained, knowing she was referring to the safe they kept by the front door. "I kept a gun after the supply run, just in case. It's in a safe in my room, but he must have known about it."

"That's unlikely, especially if it was in your room."

"I'm telling you," he insisted, lowering his voice as he came home. "It's my gun, I know it."

As he crossed the ground floor he took note that Sam was sitting on their couch next to Carl, his face red and tear stained as he hid from the upheaval that was going on at home. Rick felt terribly, for he had assured Sam that telling him about Pete's gun wouldn't cause him any trouble. There was no way Sam would come to him again with a problem, not after what his honesty had resulted in today. Giving Carl a nod of approval, glad to see him comforting Sam, he and Maggie raced up stairs to the master bedroom where the safe was kept. Wasting no time trying to be neat about it, he yanked down the empty packs he and Carl had taken on the supply run and then brushed aside an array of clothing and blankets that found their way up onto the top shelf. Placing his foot on one of the lower shelves, he pulled himself up and reached for the heavy safe.

The moment he pulled it down Rick could tell that he was on the right track, for absent from the top was a layer of dust. This safe ought not have been touched since the last time they had accessed it, the day he sent Carl to store the simulation gun that had been confiscated from Ron almost a month ago. Setting the safe onto one of the lower shelves,he entered the four digit combination and then turned the handle, already knowing what he was going to find. Just as he expected, only the black simulation glock and magazine remained.

"That son of a bitch," he muttered under his breath, showing Maggie the contents. "There should have been a Colt Detective Special in here. Pete knew about this."

"What was the combination?" she asked, looking worried.

"L-o-r-i. Not exactly Fort Knox, I know," he admitted. "But it should have shut down after three wrong attempts. He can't have guessed Lori that…" Trailing off wearily, he touched his fingers to the bridge of his noise out of habit, feeling the cut that stung almost as much as his realisation. He knew how Pete had done it, how he had gained access.

Filled with frustration, for he had truly underestimated Pete, he headed into his bathroom and opened the third drawer of the vanity. He crouched down and looked at the underside of the third drawer. Over two months ago he had taped one of the spare keys to the safe here and then hadn't used it since, and ought to still be there. Though it was exactly where he had left it, a quick inspection was all he needed to see that the tape had been pulled back and replaced…but the recovered revolver was the least of his concerns now. The key to his personal safe was not the only key he kept on the underside of the bathroom drawer, there was also two keys to the large gun safes he kept in the garage. The tape securing one of those keys had also been pulled back and replaced.

Furious now, Rick flew to his feet and raced downstairs, not having time to answer Maggie's questions. As he reached the ground floor he went into the living room first, grabbing Carl's attention and gesturing for him to get up. As Maggie reached the halfway landing and started voicing her concerns, Rick went straight into the garage that only an hour ago he and Carrie had been cleaning and organising. Going straight to the first gun safes he entered the code and turned the heavy handle, his heart falling into the pit of his stomach at what he saw.

"Fuck!" he swore loudly, taking a second look. But no matter how thoroughly he looked through the safe, the top shelf was short two hand guns.

"Dad? What's going on?" Carl asked in worry, already on knife's edge from the brutal fight he had been witness to.

Gritting his teeth, Rick made sure to keep himself level headed as he spoke to his son. He took a deep breath, needing to keep his tone even. "Carl, I don't care if you've done something, but I need the know the truth, okay? The absolute truth."

Carl looked at him startled, but he slowly nodded in understanding.

"Have you told anyone about the gun we have in our closet?" he asked plainly, keeping his temper. "Anyone at all?"

"No," he answered immediately, emphasising this. "No way, I haven't told anyone."

"Not even your friends? I won't be mad, Carl, I just need the truth."

"I haven't told anyone," he insisted, following Maggie further into the garage and looking into the safe. "Oh, crap…"

"What about Ron?" Rick forced himself to ask, lowering his voice when he saw Sam hovering in the living room, his face red with tear stains. "Did you show him? Or might he have seen it when you guys were hanging out upstairs?"

Carl looked uncertain for a few moments. "I didn't show him, I swear. But maybe…I mean maybe he saw the safe…he might have seen it when I was getting my old pack down to show him."

Taking a deep breath, Rick looked at Maggie. "Maggie," he started, needing some indication as to what she was thinking. "The day Pete is discovered with a gun he had to have stolen from my safe, two other guns go missing from my safe?"

She seemed to give this thorough consideration, and when she looked up at him her resolve was certain. "That's no coincidence…we need to find those guns. Now."

* * *

 _How the hell did they end up here?_

It was now approaching midnight, but there was no light at the end of the tunnel that indicated any of them were going to get sleep that night. Her head weary and her body aching, Carrie rubbed her eyes as she took a break from her work, rolling her shoulders back as she looked around the bedroom she was currently searching. She had been helping to search Jessie's house since the discovery that Pete had stolen two more guns from the first house, Rick determined that none of them rest until they were recovered. While ever Pete had access to two armed guns, he posed a threat to them all, not just his immediate family.

"I don't know how you knew about my gun," Rick began darkly, his entire group surrounding him as he confronted Pete in the infirmary. "Or how you knew where to find the key…but I'm going to do you a favour and make this simple for you."

Pete just looked up at him blankly, his eyes still red and puffy from Michonne's mace. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"I think you do." Pulling the revolver from the back of his jeans, Rick showed it to him. "This gun? The one you threatened your family with, the one you tried to shoot me with? This is mine. You stole it from my personal safe, and then you stole two more hand guns from my safe in the garage. Are you denying that?"

Pete shrugged, his voice full of condescension. "I don't suppose you have any…evidence?"

Not taking his bait, Rick simply continued, sharing a glance with Deanna as he laid out what was going to happen next. "Like I said, I'm going to make this simple for you. Tell me where you've put those two other guns, or I'm going to make your life hell until they're found."

Scoffing, Pete seemed unconcerned. "Go ahead."

"Pete," Deanna snapped, starting forward and unfolding her arms. Until now she had been a silent observer on the scene, but she stepped up now. "I don't think you are aware of how thin the ice you skate is. You've been abusing your family, you attacked our constable, and then you tried to kill him. Now he tells me you've stolen two more guns from him? That is unacceptable. I demand that you turn over those guns immediately."

Pete looked at her incredulously, his lips curling into a snarl as he suddenly stood up. "You're siding with him?" he questioned loudly. "He's got nothing on me. Nothing!"

Raising his hand for silence, Rick stepped forward. "Sit down, Pete…sit down!" he shouted, his tone leaving no room for argument, even from Pete. When he sat back down on the bed Rick continued. "Is this how you want to play it? Is it?"

"Yes," Pete smiled, his response a clear challenge.

There was a short pause as Rick looked down at him, considering his next move. "Carrie. Pick yourself a team, and take them to Jessie's house to start searching. Turn it upside down. I mean every room, every cupboard, drawer, air vent, pillow, cushion. Search every inch until you find something. Rosita, pick your team and do the same here in the Infirmary. Abraham. Your team should get the metal detectors. Search every square inch of dirt inside these walls, including the compost, gardens and cemetery. Michonne, your team can start talking to residents. Find out every place they've ever seen Pete in the last month, and then follow up." Never taking his eyes off Pete, Rick paused and let this sink in. "Is that a good start, Pete?"

Shrugging, Pete looked away and ignored the question.

"If we don't find those guns by tomorrow morning, we'll start searching the residents' houses…if anyone has a problem with us upheaving their homes, I'll send them to discuss the matter with you. Until these guns are found, this is the community's only priority. No school, no book club, no construction, no pantry duty…only this."

"I agree," Deanna stated supportively. "Pete? Are you prepared for us to upheave your family even more? Are you prepared for us to upheave every single resident?"

"You're making a mistake…I didn't steal your guns."

"That's probably true," Rick admitted, much to everyone's surprise. "No, what's more likely is that you manipulated Ron into doing it. You make him do a lot of things, don't you? You make him lie, you make him ignore what you do to his mother, what you do to him. It's no stretch to think you could make him do this."

Yet again, Pete had no response for this, only further supporting what it was Rick had said. Satisfied with the plan, Rick turned and looked at those he had named. "Get started."

That was how Carrie found herself standing in Ron Anderson's bedroom at close to midnight, exhauster as she looked around and wondered if this was all just a wild goose chase. After hours of searching Jessie's entire house it was indeed beginning to feel that way, for there had been no sign of the other two stolen guns. Exhausted, she sank down onto the bed and rubbed her face wearily, flinching when she aggravated the bruise under her right eye. She didn't know what to do next…she'd looked everywhere in this bedroom, but something told her to stay and keep looking.

Opening her eyes, she looked around for anything she might have missed, listening as Sasha rummaged around in Sam's bedroom next door. Ron's bedroom was exactly what one would expect from a fifteen year old boy, and with the exception of half a mouldy sandwich and a Playboy magazine hidden in the back of his closet, so far there had been no surprises. He was predictably untidy, his bedroom an assortment of candy wrappers, clothing, half hearted school work and video games, the cords of which Carrie had tripped over twice before she neatly packed it all away in the TV unit.

She hated to be doing this to Jessie, to be the one turning her house inside out in search of something her husband had stolen, but when she thought about it, she knew she was the right person to coordinate the task. It would be better for Jessie's friend to search her house rather than someone like Abraham, someone who she didn't know and trust to the extent she did Carrie. When the search had begun, Jessie had stopped packing Pete's belongings and started on her own, unable to spend the first night without her husband in her own home. She and Sam were spending the night in Carrie's bedroom, Carol having looked after them well and made them feel as at home as possible, but it had to be a difficult way to start the new phase in her life. Unsurprisingly, Ron had been less than enthusiastic about the arrangements, opting instead to spend the night with his father in the Infirmary, submitting himself to be under full guard along side him.

Leaning forward, Carrie put her head in her hands with a long sigh, wondering when things were ever going to settle down for more than a few days at a time. It seemed like there was always something…there was always a problem to be addressed, an issue to be resolved, and the complications never seemed to cease. First the Wolf sighting, then Aidan and Noah's deaths, keeping things secret from Carl, Jessie's safety, Rick's fight with Pete…now two stolen guns. It felt like a long list of never ending problems, and Carrie resigned herself to the knowledge that life was unlikely to be simple, no matter how much she longed for it.

Hearing footsteps and a familiar voice, she raised her head and looked towards the hallway, seeing shadows moving. She listened as Rick interrupted Sasha from her search of Sam's bedroom, the two of them talking quietly for a few minutes. Their voices were indistinguishable, and she hoped that when he was finished with Sasha he would come and see her. Waiting for him, she crossed her fingers in the hopes that the guns had been found, that they could all go home and rest easily. She was more than physically exhausted…she was mentally and emotionally exhausted after bearing witness to the awful fight between Rick and Pete. Dwelling on that again, she felt her heart clench as she remembered the moment Pete pointed the gun at Rick's lower stomach and pulled the trigger, the gut wrenching fear that he was about to die.

It was a relief to hear him coming down the hall, distracting her from the awful memory of that afternoon. She looked up and watched as he came to the end of the hallway, the light falling across his face as he leant against the door frame in the threshold of Ron's room. Like she, Rick was exhausted from that afternoon and evening, but for him it showed a little more. His face was a testament to the brutal fight he had endured. Small strips of medical tape dotted his face, the stark white colour emphasising the bruise beginning to form on his forehead. Despite his injuries, he hadn't stopped for long that afternoon. Submitting to Denise's insistence that she finish patching him up, he'd let her finish and then joined Abraham's group, using metal detectors to search every part of Alexandria possible.

"Did you find anything outside?" she enquired, speaking first when he didn't.

He shook his head slowly. "Some shell casings…a couple of bucks in change. No guns. You?"

"Oh, just something that resembled a mouldy sandwich, and a Playboy magazine."

To her surprise Rick cracked a smile at this, shaking his head wearily. "Christ," he muttered to himself, likely wondering if Carl had seen the latter. "How do kids even find that shit these days?"

"Well I don't know…how did you find dirty magazines when you were their age?" she asked, trying to lift both of their moods. As she had hoped, Rick smiled again.

"I did what every other teenage boy did. I stole them from my dad."

Chuckling at the thought of a fifteen year old Rick stealing dirty magazines, Carrie smiled up at him, glad to see his face and body language relaxing. Despite everything that had happened that afternoon they took a moment in which they could enjoy one another's company, Carrie thinking back on their day together. It felt like days since they had cleaned and organised the garage together, not mere hours. She'd been pleasantly surprised when he'd asked for her help, and she hadn't needed much convincing. If there was an opportunity to spend time alone with Rick, regardless of whether or not they were working, she'd take it willingly. They'd worked well together, frequently stealing kisses or quick gropes throughout the day. But like every other time they were able to spend time with each other, it simply wasn't meant to last.

"You okay?" Rick enquired, picking up on her mood.

She nodded quickly, but there was no point denying that she was disheartened by the turn of events. With everything that had happened today, and Ron's difficult reaction to what Rick had done, would be they be able to tell Carl about their relationship when they planned to? Surely things would settle down over the weekend, and their anticipated schedule of Tuesday would go ahead as planned…unless Rick found reason to stall. Carrie rid herself of this thought as soon as it occurred. Rick hadn't stalled their plans to tell Carl because he didn't want to, or because it meant less to him than it did to her…he was doing what was right for Carl, and she no right to hold that against him.

"Why do you think Pete stole these guns?" she asked, trying to fill the silence. "I understand stealing one, but three?"

Sighing, Rick shifted his weight between his feet. "The first one was for him. For power, to intimidate his family. The other two? They were for me. Stealing my guns right out of my home? This is personal for him."

The latter remark brought about something she had been thinking about all week. She knew Rick harboured a preference to exile or kill Pete rather than deal with him in the way he was now, a notion she could not support."Rick," she started. "You know we can't kill him."

"I know."

"We need him too much. He-"

"I know!" he snapped angrily.

His sudden frustration startled her, as did the dark expression on his face, but this faded quickly. As he apologised under his breath, so too did Carrie. She didn't know why she had brought that up, especially now. Rick knew what he was doing, he knew that they couldn't kill Pete…but the uncertainty she could sense from him left her feeling apprehensive about what he might do. There was an awkward silence for a few moments, neither of them quite knowing how to fill it.

"Problem is, Carrie…Pete could do a lot of harm, and not just to Jessie," he began to explain. "He could tell Carl about you and I, he could t-"

"That's why we should tell Carl ourselves."

"We talked about this," he said sharply, his tone getting away from him again. "Today, in fact."

Not liking the tone he was taking with her, Carrie subtly cleared her throat, making her point clear. Getting the hint, Rick apologised under his breath again.

"What happens if we don't find these guns?" she asked, changing the subject.

"Then he stays under armed guard twenty four seven until we do."

She resisted the urge to ask if he was absolutely sure the guns were missing, that there was no chance Daryl might have taken them with him recruiting, or someone else might have checked them out. Knowing Rick like she did, she trusted that he had already considered this possibility, that he wouldn't have dozens of people searching the community until they were found.

"I've sent everyone home for the night," he said quietly. "We should go too. We can start again in the morning."

Glad to be relieved of her duty, she gave a long sigh of relief as she slowly got to her feet. The idea of going home and sinking into bed was very welcome, regardless of the fact she'd be sleeping in Daryl's attic bedroom. However before she was ready to leave she paused and took one last look around the room, remembering the next place she had intended to search.

"Could you help me lift the mattress?" she requested, gesturing to her arm. "I tried, but I couldn't do it one my own."

Coming into the bedroom, Rick brushed his hand over her waist and kissed her cheek as he passed by. She relished the moment, the feeling of his touch and his lips against her cheek, and she reminded herself that one day soon a gesture like that would be normal. They wouldn't have to hide much longer. Helping him with the mattress as best she could, they each took a corner and then lifted it up, and what they were looking for was immediately apparent. A cut about half a foot in length had been made in the underside of the mattress, and they both knew what it was for before they even investigated.

"I got this," Rick began, holding the mattress up. "You check it…be careful."

Aware of the fact that if a gun was indeed hidden there it could be loaded, Carrie knelt on the bed frame and leant over to the slit in the mattress, gently sliding her fingers inside. Barely an inch into the padding she felt cold, hard metal, and she ran her fingers over the length of it until she was certain of what she could feel. Confident that she had the top of the slide, she gripped the sides and then wriggled the gun out. Setting it aside, she plunged her hand back into the slit and felt around, making absolutely sure that it was just the one.

Taking the gun and getting out of the way, she let Rick put the mattress back down and then took a proper look. "A SIG," she said softly, ejecting the magazine and then pulling back the slide. Upon finding the chamber empty, she locked the slide in place before passing it to Rick.

Dejectedly taking the gun, he looked it over before slipping the magazine and gun into the pocket of his jacket. "At least we know we're on the right track," he said softly, looking around Ron's bedroom.

Smoothing out the duvet, Carrie shared Rick's low spirit, not feeling triumphant despite what they had found. One gun had been recovered, and the other wouldn't be missing for much longer, of that she was sure…but she felt rather underwhelmed by the whole situation. She understood the root of this feeling, that it had been a very difficult couple of weeks.

"Do you think Ron knew the gun was there?" she asked, following Rick downstairs and turning off the lights as they went. It was strange to be alone in Jessie's house, the normally welcoming home feeling eerie as they left it empty. "Do you really think he stole them for Pete?"

"Yes, to both. He's fifteen, he's lived in domestic violence for a long time. He'd be easy for Pete to manipulate." As they left he slipped his hand into hers and entwined their fingers, and they fell into step with one another. "We can't hold it against him."

"What about the way he's treating Carl?" Raising their hands, she gently kissed the back of his bandaged hand, able to smell the disinfectant Denise had used to clean the cuts. "Do we hold that against him?"

Rick paused before he answered, thinking about this. "No. Ron's behaviour is immature, but to expected. He loves Pete, and Carl's part of the group trying to break his family apart."

"So, does Carl have to keep being his friend?" she enquired next, knowing that Rick had asked him to do that, to be a support for Ron during this time.

Sighing, Rick seemed to falter as he started to answer. "Not if doesn't want to," he decided, opening the front door and letting her inside the house first. He lowered his voice when he continued talking. "I won't make Carl hang around with someone who treats him like shit. That's not fair to him."

When she went to let go of his hand, Rick held it a little tighter, the motion making her look up at him. "What is it?"

"Do you something to drink?" he offered, stalling their inevitable departure to their respective beds.

"No, thank you," she said, shaking her head. "But I'll sit with you a little longer if you're having one."

Nodding in agreement, he pressed his lips to her forehead before letting go of her hand, heading into the garage to put away the first stolen gun while she sank down onto the couch. It was frustrating to think that only that afternoon she and Rick had been seated here, laughing and making fun of each other while Judith played nearby. The memory felt bittersweet, a reminder that the good parts of life didn't seem to last anymore. She couldn't help but feel that was going to be a running theme from now on, that happiness would be short lived in favour of complications and never ending problems. Listening as Rick bustled around the kitchen and poured himself a drink, she hoped that particular theme didn't run true for their relationship.

When he joined her, Rick sank down onto the couch on her left and set his drink aside, giving a long and weary sigh as he pulled off his boots and socks, letting them fall to the floor with a thud. Making himself comfortable in respect to his injuries, he put a few pillows under his left side and then gestured for Carrie to lean into his right. Knowing that the left side of his ribs bothered him occasion, that being the place he was shot on duty, she worried that he had aggravated that old injury during the fight that day. But if it was bothering him too much he didn't show it, instead thanking her as she leant into his embrace.

"Where are you sleeping tonight?"

"I'll take Daryl's room. I figured Jessie and Sam would be more comfortable having a bathroom to themselves, Sam in particular."

Rick nodded in agreement. "Sometimes kids get nervous in a strange house," he remarked, taking a sip of whisky. "It's been a difficult day for him."

"That's putting it lightly."

There was a comfortable silence now, the two of them sitting in near darkness as they reflected on the day, taking their one last opportunity to be together. They would be busy this weekend, for between taking care of their usual duties outside the walls, there was the second gun to search for, and then Pete and Jessie's separation to manage. Carrie didn't know how the finer details would be handled, what the precise rules would be for Pete…she supposed it depended on what Jessie wanted. That would be where Carrie came in, for while everyone else would be focused on the gun and Pete, she would need to be with Jessie. She had promised to be there throughout this process, to support her, to make sure her needs were heard. Carrie couldn't let her down after everything she'd done to support Rick's plan. Jessie's angry outburst from earlier had to be forgiven, Carrie choosing to exercise understanding rather than defensiveness.

"Do you think this is going to work?" she asked, enjoying the warmth of Rick's arm around her shoulders. "Making him stay away from Jessie? Making him cooperate?"

When Rick didn't reply straight away, she looked up half expecting to see him asleep, but he was thinking about his answer. "No," he said softly. "It's not going to work…but we have to try."

"Why won't it work?"

"Pete…he's got a grudge against me."

Carrie frowned, this having been the first she'd heard about a grudge. "A grudge about what?" she enquired, a little skeptic.

"About that day with the Wolf, when I wouldn't let him treat him. About me making him work with Denise, making him train people, making his family learn to use guns. He wants to be the only doctor here so that we need him, but I've made him almost replaceable. Now I've convinced his wife to throw him out. So obviously, he's not my biggest fan."

"Has he done something?" Worried, she sat up to look at him properly. _Why hadn't he told her about any of this?_

He nodded slowly, taking a long sip of his drink. "He's threatened to tell Carl about you and me…about Judith."

"Judith? What about her?"

Rick frowned, peering at her. "About Lori and Shane."

Realisation struck her, rendering her speechless for a moment. Long ago Rick had told her about what happened with Shane, about how he might be Judith's biological father. Given that it was a topic never discussed, Carrie had given it no more thought since the first and only discussion.

"How does Pete know that? Who told him?"

"No one. He figured it out when I wouldn't let him determine Judith's blood type. Now he's using it against me." His tone was factual, his words merely a recount of something he'd clearly been worrying about for a while now.

Taking in this news, a greater sense of understanding dawned on her. It was no wonder that Rick wanted Pete dead, that the agreement to let him stay in Alexandria had only been reached reluctantly. Carl had no idea what happened between Lori and Shane, had no idea that Judith might not be Rick's biological daughter…he was trying to keep it that way, while Pete threatened to tell him everything. It wasn't just Jessie that Rick was trying to protect, it was his children too.

"I had no idea," she said softly, placing her hand on his leg to get his attention. "I'm sorry he's doing that to you. Why didn't you tell me before this?"

He silent for a few moments before shrugging his shoulders restlessly. "He only made this a problem recently…he started threatening me the day Noah and Aidan died, while you were all in Washington. Given what happened then, it didn't seem kind of me to bring up more shit for you to deal with."

She understood his explanation, for after Aidan and Noah's death she hadn't been in the best shape, physically or emotionally. It wasn't unexpected for him to avoid telling her something like that during such a difficult time. The delay in telling Carl about their relationship was to protect him from dealing with too much at once, the same thing Rick had been trying to do for her by keeping his problem with Pete to himself.

"I get that you were letting me recover, that you were looking out for me," she began, rubbing the top of his leg to ensure she had his full attention. "But who's looking out for you?"

A small smile crossed his face. "Don't worry about me."

This response was predictable. "It's difficult not to, given the situation. Does anyone else know he's causing a problem for you?"

"Carol."

This response too was predictable, and she had suspected it before she even asked. Rick always shared things like this with his group members…but not often her. On this occasion, she wondered whether he was really just looking out for her as he claimed, or if he simply didn't value her input as much as the other's. With thoughts like this occurring to her, it was difficult not to resent the close relationships he had with the rest of his group. She knew she too was part of his group in every way that mattered, but every so often she got the feeling that she was slightly on the outer edges, the perpetual newcomer.

"So? Now what?"

"We find this other gun, and then we set some ground rules," he explained, finishing the rest of his drink. "We'll need to find out exactly how Jessie wants this, and we may have to keep a guard on Pete until he settles down. He can probably live in the Infirmary, there's plenty of room there."

"But, what about Carl and Judith?" she asked, clarifying her question. "If this grudge against you doesn't go away, what happens if he says something?"

"He won't."

Carrie was not satisfied. She understood Rick's preference to kill Pete given the situation…but she couldn't condone it. That was the major difference between them, the level of justification required to kill someone. "But what if he does? What would you do?"

"I will make sure he doesn't," he replied, his body language becoming closed off, his tone defensive.

Hesitating, she considered the risk of pushing the subject. "If Carl hears about us from someone else, he-"

Interrupting her, Rick swore under his breath as he sat forward on the couch. "Are you going to keep bringing that up? We already agreed on Tuesday, it's just a couple more days, that's all."

"We should have told him straight away, before all of this shit with Pete started."

"Thank you, that _had_ occurred to me."

Carrie narrowed her eyes, annoyed by his condescending tone. He never spoke to her like that, he knew she wouldn't stand for it. While at first her instinct was to return his tone of voice, she chose a different tact. She took pause before she spoke, choosing her words carefully. "I just get the feeling that we're going to keep stalling, that we'll keep waiting and waiting for the perfect time. The longer we wait, the more likely he'll hear it from someone else."

"I know the risk I'm taking," he said lowly.

"It's not just your risk," she argued, keeping her tone even and calm. "It's my risk as well. His reaction affects me too."

"I don't want to talk about this now, we've got enough going on."

She shook her head. "That's not good enough, we need to talk about it."

"We did. Today," he said sharply, reaching the end of his tether. "We agreed to wait until Tuesday, nothing else has changed."

He stood up before she could stop him, making her instantly regret her tendency to push at him. "Rick, wait," she said quickly, she too standing up and then catching his elbow. "Dammit, Rick, wait!"

Slowing to a stop he turned back and looked at her, his expression indicating that he was ready for an argument, prepared to stand his ground. Not wanting that, she took his hand and then moved towards him. Though she didn't feel an apology was warranted, she ended their frustration with a soft kiss, glad when he reciprocated.

"I love you," she reminded him, feeling like it had been too long since she'd said those words.

As she expected it might, his body language softened at this reminder. "And I love you," he replied, pushing her hair behind her ear and then kissing her again.

The brief exchange was enough to soothe their frustration with one another, to remind them of why they were frustrated in the first place. They loved each other, and they were trying hard to make a new relationship work in the midst of problems and complications…that wasn't easy to do. Standing there in the dark living room they wound their arms around one another as they kissed, keeping their touches gentle so as to not aggravate their respective injuries.

"Let's go upstairs," he suggested in a low whisper, breaking their kiss.

Carrie moaned, thoroughly tempted. "But Carl."

"He's not expecting me back tonight," he assured her, already ushering her towards the stairs.

"But Daryl," she said next, doubting he'd appreciate his bed being defiled by them.

"He'll never know."

Convincing her, he brought his lips to hers in a lush kiss, his tongue brushing over the seam of her lips until she opened them for him. It didn't take much to convince her, particularly when she remembered the better part of the day they'd spent together, their earlier plans to spend the night together in the watch tower. She could taste the whiskey on his lips, and although she disliked the taste of the hard liquor she kissed him back fervently, wishing she could run her hands all over him like she usually did. But with the injuries he'd sustained she didn't want to risk hurting him, and so she kept her hands mostly to herself as he slowly led her up the stairs, their lips and hands parting only when they had to.

When they reached the first floor she broke away from his kiss and looked around, relieved to see that they'd caught a break. The only condoms they had access to were in her bedroom, and although Jessie and Sam currently occupied it, they had left the door wide open as they slept. She glanced at the double doors to the main bedroom to be absolutely sure that Carl would be oblivious, and then left Rick to wait as she crept down the hallway to her own bedroom. Although it was proving to be a convenience, she couldn't help but feel annoyed with Jessie leaving the door open while she slept. Everyone from Rick's group had been witness to something terrible that happened during the night, and they all understood why they had to leave their bedroom doors closed when they were their most vulnerable. The Alexandrian's had been asked many times to implement this practice, and it seemed not even Jessie had taken notice.

Despite her annoyance, Carrie also gave silent thanks for Jessie's complacency. Tentatively peering in and noting that Jessie had left the light on for Sam, she went to the nightstand by the door and opened it, grabbing a chain of condoms she kept in there. As she left she glanced at Sam and Jessie in the bed, unsurprised to see Jessie holding her son close. Though Sam was ten years old, he was soaking up Jessie's affection right now, his pale face and tear stained cheeks a reminder of the difficult time he was going through. Creeping out and leaving them to their privacy, Carrie closed the door and then returned to Rick.

"You can't stay the night," she reminded him as they sank down onto Daryl's bed together. Though she wanted him to spend the night with her, to feel like a real couple, she knew it couldn't happen. Carl might not be expecting Rick's return, but if he awoke tomorrow to find Rick's boots and gun at home but his bed not slept in, it might arouse suspicion.

"I know," he agreed lowly, flinching as he removed his shirt, exposing the myriad of cuts and bruises. "Soon though, I promise."

"I'm holding you to that," she assured him, looking him up and down to assess his injuries more closely.

Brushing his loose hair off his forehead, she very gently pressed her lips to the three cuts that surrounded his left eyebrow in a semi-circle, next kissing the one across his nose. The one on his nose was in a similar place to the cut on her own face, one she had acquired on the supply run to the solar panel warehouse. They'd both borne the brunt of various events recently, the impact of which left Carrie feeling on edge. What was going to happen next? Would they be prepared for it? Would be they see it coming?

Eager for him, to drown out the worries in her head, she glanced over her shoulder at the entrance to the attic. Without a dedicated door to separate the attic from the staircase, the only privacy Daryl's bedroom had from was a heavy curtain Carol had hung for him. While it allowed for some privacy, it wasn't exactly sound proof, and so she kept that in mind as she began to undress. Discarding her clothes while Rick did the same, she sat up on her knees and tried to convince him to lay down, to let her take care of him tonight. He seemed to protest for a few moments, until one wrong gesture on his part made him flinch, his jaw flexing as he tried to brush off her concern.

Finally relenting to her request, Rick gave a long sigh as he settled back into the pillows, his features visibly relaxing now that he was laying down. Sympathetic to his discomfort, she carefully straddled him and then ran her hands down his front, feeling the way his body flexed and moved beneath her. As he pulled her down to kiss him, she teasingly rubbed the peak of her legs over his erection, enjoying the sound of the groan he always made when she did that. Reminding him to be quiet, she grinned as she sealed her lips over his and repeated the motion, enjoying the sensations. It didn't take long for Rick to lose patience, and he swiftly rolled them over, though without his usual finesse.

"I love you," he murmured against her neck, hooking her leg around his hips as he settled down over her.

"Condom," she whispered urgently, pushing at his shoulder.

He swore under his breath as he pulled away, hastily looking around for wherever they had been tossed aside. "Thank God you manage to keep your head," he muttered.

Rolling her eyes, Carrie agreed with his remark. No matter how caught up in the moment they were, she couldn't allow them to risk going without contraception. Welcoming him back when he returned to her, she wound her hand into his hair as they kissed languidly. "I love you too," she told him. "Now give it up," she teased, nudging his hip to make him get off her. "With what happened today, you're not going to last two minutes being on top."

To her pleasant surprise, Rick grinned in amusement, actually laughing as he moved off her and resumed his former position. "You're wrong," he protested. "But alright."

"Shhhh," she whispered, conscious of their voices carrying downstairs. "Just let me take care of you tonight."

"I won't argue with that."

As she straddled his hips and settled down over him Carrie paused for a moment, glad that the darkness would hide her face, that he wouldn't see how worried she was when she spoke next. "Tuesday," she whispered, reminding him on their agreement to tell Carl.

Her good hand was resting on his lower stomach, it's proximity encouraging him to take it in his own and entwine their fingers. "Tuesday," he agreed, bringing her hand to his mouth and kissing it. "I promise."


	37. Chapter 37

By some miracle, Pete managed to survive the weekend without giving Rick cause to kill him. Though he hadn't yet confessed to stealing Rick's guns, or to manipulating Ron into doing it for him, the second gun had been found early Saturday afternoon. The search had resumed earlier that morning, and with no resident wanting their own homes to be searched, most joined in on the search of the gardens and grassed areas. Though there were whispers that indicated they felt Rick was overreacting, and gossip about Pete and Jessie's separation that ran rampant, no one could deny that Rick was right when they found the missing guns. On a hunch, Carter decided to take his metal detector back over the gardens outside the Infirmary for a closer look, and it was he that found the second, a Smith and Wesson Sigma, buried three feet deep alongside the building foundations. The barrel was full of dirt and moisture and would require a thorough cleaning, but Rick didn't care. Pete no longer had access to the missing guns, not that it would mean he would no longer be under twenty four hour guard.

With the urgency to find the guns over and done with, Rick had then turned his focus onto Pete himself. Showing almost no reaction to the fact that the guns had been found, Pete refused all opportunities to cooperate or talk about his future, belligerently demanding that he speak to Jessie. Knowing better than to accommodate this request, Rick had simply made the call that Pete be confined to the Infirmary for the time being, pleased when he found Deanna to be in agreement with him. With clear instructions that he not leave the Infirmary without supervision, and that he also continue his medical duties as normal, Pete was left to tend to his wounded pride in private.

A guard was stationed at the Infirmary throughout the day, only adding to Sasha's work of scheduling watch point guards, while at night Pete was being locked up. Trying to reduce the burden of guarding him, Rick had called for bars to be installed on a bedroom window and a lock on the outside of the door, with Abraham gladly taking on the task of locking Pete in every night and letting him out every morning. This measure was deemed excessive by many, but necessary in Rick's opinion. At the very least Jessie would be able to sleep comfortably, knowing that any interactions with her husband would be made on her own terms, not his.

The weekend had passed without major incident, and to everyone's relief Monday evening brought about a much welcome surprise in the form of Aaron and Daryl. This was the second time the two of them had departed to look for survivors, and though they'd promised that they'd return within their two week deadline, Rick honestly hadn't been holding his breath this time around. Aside from the fact that they could get held up by a many number of things, Daryl wasn't exactly known for his punctuality. So it came as a most pleasant surprise when they heard Aaron's voice over the radio announcing their imminent arrival early Monday evening, his voice sounding almost as good as the rumble of Merle's old motorcycle. Like their last return Aaron and Daryl had been met at the gates by most of the community, Eric rushing to the driver's side of the Hyundai while Rick and his group went towards Daryl on the motorcycle.

"I bought yah something," Daryl grunted after the two of them embraced. Stuffing his riding gloves into his pocket, he looked over his shoulder and jerked his head towards the Hyundai.

Indeed he had brought him something, though Rick would have been pleased if it was only the three chickens sitting on the back seat. In the passenger seat was exactly what Daryl had hoped to bring back, a survivor. Despite this having been the entire purpose of their journey, Rick couldn't help but feel annoyed by their successful recruiting. Aside from the fact that he was reluctant to trust anyone from the outside, at the moment it felt like he was constantly inundated with things to handle. He could never catch a break, for there was always a complication arising, something to distract him from the more important things…this survivor was just another complication Rick needed to attend to.

While Aaron gently coaxed the nervous man to get out of the car, Rick was pleased to note the blindfold that hung around his neck, indicating that he didn't know where he was. According to Daryl, they'd only picked him up two days ago, and upon finding him collapsed on the side of the road they had broken their own practice of watching and observing at a distance. They'd stopped to help him, but rather than delay their return home to Alexandria so that they could get to know him a little better, they'd come home almost immediately. Rick suspected that the three chickens that occupied the back seat had been the deciding factor in their return home, for they weren't exactly good company.

Like always, Deanna had hoped to interview the survivor, Gordon, as soon as possible, but within a minute of them sitting down in her living room Rick knew it wasn't going to happen. Despite his tall and burley stature, Gordon sat hunched over in the same blue chair which Rick had once sat, his head lowered to the floor and his eyes darting around in suspicion. Wringing his hands he looked far from comfortable in this strange new place, not at all assured of his personal safety. Just like Rick had, Gordon was treating everything he saw with suspicion, likely not believing any of it to truly be real. Though he was pleased to see that this survivor at least had the instinct to exercise caution, it also frustrated him. He'd been planning to spend the evening at home, to gauge Carl's mood and attitude the night before he intended to tell him about his relationship with Carrie. Carl's reaction hinged on so many things that were going on right now, and Rick needed to be prepared in advance…he needed to be home this evening, to be with his kids. Instead he was stuck at Deanna's house, trying to interview a man who clearly did not want to talk to either of them.

After fifteen minutes in which Gordon had told them only his name and age, Rick knew that there was nothing else they might learn from him that night. Giving her a chance, he had allowed Deanna a short while to talk and tell him a few things about the community, and then he put a stop to the interview. Sensing that Gordon needed time to absorb the shock of what was happening to him, Rick had brought him to the same townhouse where they'd kept Carter a few weeks ago, explaining that he would be staying there for the night. Appearing to agree to Rick's terms, he simply walked over to the mattress on the floor and slumped down onto it, staring at the opposite wall. They brought him food, water, clothing and towels, and then directed him to a bathroom he would be allowed to use…then they'd locked him in and left him undisturbed. Even then, with the survivor taken care of and secured, Rick couldn't catch a break, he couldn't get home to spend the evening with Carl. Ron was causing trouble yet again, reducing Jessie to tears when he refused to come home to her.

Ever since the separation Ron had been staying with Pete in the Infirmary, much to everyone's frustration. It was bad enough they suspected Pete had manipulated him into stealing Rick's guns, but now he was clearly using Ron against Jessie. Taking advantage of his son's loyalty and love, Pete was encouraging him to rebel against his mother, to ignore her and refuse to come home. Monday night it had taken everything but force for Rick and Deanna to make Ron return home, having had enough of his behaviour. Ron wasn't handling the separation well at all, and Pete was using this to his advantage.

The following morning, it was with reluctance that Rick returned to the townhouses and met with Deanna again, the two of them recollecting before they attempted to interview Gordon again. When he and Aaron went to get him Rick was unsurprised to find him in the exact same place he had left him, laying on the bed staring at the opposite wall, his food, water and blankets untouched. Summoning all of his patience, and questioning whether or not this man actually wanted to be there, Rick had left him in Aaron's care. An hour later Gordon was escorted by Rick to Deanna's townhouse for his interview, looking significantly more well than before, having eaten, showered and been seen to by Pete. Determined to prove how valuable he was, Pete had made quite the effort to check him over from top to toe.

Checking on Gordon as Pete tended to him, Rick found himself too impatient to wait for the IV fluids to finish being administered, and insisted the interview go ahead. He had too many things to do that day to keep waiting around for Gordon to be ready, or for Pete to give his approval that he could leave the Infirmary. Today he was meant to be telling Carl about his relationship with Carrie, and he needed to prepare for that - he didn't want to put the conversation off again. Ignoring Pete's protesting, he brought Gordon back to Deanna's house with the IV still attached, and he hung it from the book shelf to finish being administered. Gordon gave no protest to anything, simply doing as he was told, but Rick got the feeling he was going to be a little more loquacious than he was the day before.

Not taking a seat beside Deanna, Rick instead stood to the side of the couch with his arms folded, carefully considering Gordon's demeanour before he began.

"You're not a hostage here, you're a guest," he started as soon as Deanna had turned on the camera. His patience was wearing thin, and he wanted to get straight to the point. "You're free to leave if you wish, and I'd prefer you not waste my time. Is there any reason you're refusing food and water?"

There was a long silence, and for a few moments it looked like Gordon wasn't going to say anything. Finally he sat up a little straighter and looked up at them, his expression apologetic and embarrassed. "Sorry," he began quietly, one of the few times Rick had heard him speak. "I just…"

"Do you want to be here?" Rick asked bluntly.

"I…I don't know."

Though he was dissatisfied with the answers, at least he had received answers today. Happy to defer back to Deanna, Rick gave her a nod of approval and allowed her to begin the interview. Unlike their previous attempt to interview him, this morning Gordon was more receptive, answering Deanna's questions and slowly beginning to tell his story. Gordon Monaghan, sixty three years old from Ruston, Louisiana, he was a high school science teacher enjoying an early retirement when the outbreak began. His subsequent story was similar to everyone else's. He'd made it out of major cities with a few members of his family, and they'd survived by joining various groups that constantly moved around, rarely having somewhere to call home for longer than a few months. The last surviving member of his family and group had died two months ago, his nine year old grandson who had succumbed to an infected cut on his shoulder.

"After that, I just kept going," Gordon remarked softly, his eyes fixed on the glass doors that lead onto the terrace. "I don't know why…I just did."

"The area Daryl and Aaron picked you up, you've been around there for a while?" Rick enquired.

"Yes. I never made it very far on foot." Clearing his throat, Gordon scratched his grey beard and shifted in the seat. "I've got a bad hip, you see…"

"You ever run into trouble with other people? Groups?"

He gave a bitter laugh, looking up at him now. "When did I not run into trouble with other groups? Why do you think I tried to make a run for it from your brother?"

"You ran from Daryl?"

Nodding, he gave a bitter smile. "I only tried. I got nothing but trouble from other people…even when I'm just minding my own business, people just _take, take, take_. One asshole literally took the shirt off my back….can you believe it?" he said in disbelief. "Someone stole the shirt off my back."

Eager for more information, Rick pressed him. "Any groups in particular come to mind?"

There was a short pause now, and then Gordon looked up at him, his expression indicating that he knew what Rick was getting at. "You seen them too, huh? The one's with the W?"

"What do you know about them?" he questioned, not giving him any information just yet.

"They think they've descended from Wolves. Can you believe it? Guess that's what happens when people…" he trailed off with a long sigh, not know what to say next.

"What happened with them?"

"Same as every other group that's caused me trouble. They held me up, took everything I had…they took my Anthony too. That's how he got the cut…getting away from them." There was a short pause, and now Gordon turned to Rick. "What do you know about them?"

"About the same," he answered, not elaborating any further. "Deanna?"

Letting her take the lead again, Rick stood back and carefully observed, taking note that as the interview progressed, Gordon 's body language relaxed. The shock of his arrival was wearing off, and the IV fluids he was receiving was certainly helping him too. Soon enough Deanna began telling him about life in Alexandria, about their history and the way things worked. Finally, after over an hour of talking, their interview seemed to approach its inevitable conclusion.

"Do you want to stay here?" Rick asked, repeating his earlier question.

Gordon hesitated, and understanding the magnitude of this decision, Rick gave him time to answer it. He knew that Gordon understood what it was like out there, that he too was aware of the fact that people were a greater threat than Walkers, but that this awareness also served as a caution. Despite their goodwill and they way they had provided for him since Aaron and Daryl had found him, Gordon was likely still uncertain of whether or not he trusted these people…it would take some time for that trust to truly develop.

Finally, Gordon gave his answer. "Yes," he said quietly, though he sounded uncertain. "I'd like that, please."

At this, Rick and Deanna exchanged a meaningful glance, both aware that his desire to stay wasn't quite enough. "Our community is now run under shared leadership between Rick and myself," Deanna began, acknowledging them as co-leaders for the very first time. "I suspect you will be a most welcome addition. However…we are experiencing a lot of friction among some residents. Things are tense right now."

"Okay."

"Are you going to cause additional friction?" she enquired bluntly.

"No Ma'am, I'm not," he said quickly, looking between the two of them. "I just…I'm not going to cause trouble. I'd like to stay."

At this, Deanna turned to Rick to gauge his feelings. Deciding he'd heard almost enough, he came forward and looked at Gordon a little more closely, catching his gaze and then holding it.

"If you want to stay here, I need to ask you three questions."

"Are they the same ones Daryl asked?"

"Most likely."

Gordon nodded, clearing his throat and then looking back at Rick. "Alright," he agreed, appearing to brace himself to give his answers.

"How many Walkers have you killed?"

"Hundreds," he answered without hesitation. "Maybe over a thousand."

"How many people have you killed?"

Again, he answered without hesitation. "Twenty two."

Catching Deanna's reaction from the corner of his eye, he could tell she was surprised by this frank admission. "Why?" he asked next, this being the most important answer.

"Why does anyone kill these days? It comes down to survival," he said candidly. "I killed to protect myself, to protect people I loved. I killed a woman for a Ventolin inhaler…all she had to do was give someone a couple of puffs, and she wouldn't…so I had to."

Surprised by the honesty of the latter statement, Rick kept his expression impassive as he looked at Gordon, considering his final decision a moment longer. There was no logical reason that he should refuse this man the safety of Alexandria. Aside from his previous refusal to eat and drink, he'd been nothing other than cooperative and non-threatening. Rick's instincts told him that everything was fine, that letting this man in was the right decision, but still he deliberated. No matter how non-threatening the man seemed, there was always the possibility that he was being deceived, that his judgement was flawed. Gordon was just another factor in an already complicated series of problems he was trying to deal with, and he felt the urge to brush this problem aside…he really didn't have the time for this. He was already baby sitting Pete, he didn't need to be baby sitting a new resident too.

Coming to his decision, Rick looked at Deanna to gauge her thoughts, knowing that despite his reservations, they shared the same opinion. Glad the interview was over and that he could get on with his day, Rick gave his final decision.

"Welcome to Alexandria."

* * *

Enjoying the warm sunlight, Rick took a few moments to talk with Aaron before leaving to make his rounds. There had been a prior agreement that if Gordon was to stay, he'd be accommodated at Aaron and Eric's house for the time being, at least until he'd settled in and more houses were made available with the expansion. Despite having given his approval, Rick was understandably concerned about Aaron's tendency to be too trusting. After all, they had only picked Gordon up off the side of the road two days ago…they hadn't watched him from afar at all.

"Just don't let your guard down too soon," he warned him, glad to see Daryl give a nod of support.

"I won't," Aaron assured him, though he was still optimistic. "I think he's going to work out, Rick. I truly do. He's not so different to your group."

Rick nodded in agreement. "That's what worries me," he said candidly. "The fact that he might be just like us."

"That's not a good thing?" Aaron enquired as Rick and Daryl went to walk away.

Looking at him over his shoulder, Rick noted his small smile. "No, it might not be."

Accepting this, Aaron nodded and then raised his hand in farewell. "Be safe out there."

Not lingering any longer, Rick and Daryl set off towards the gates so that they could make rounds together, a process he had sorely missed since his departure two weeks ago. Making rounds with Daryl was easy and hassle free…occasionally they made small talk, but most of them time the completed the task in comfortable silence. But today though, Rick knew they had a lot to talk about, for a lot had occurred which Daryl needed to be brought up to speed on.

"The chickens look happy," Rick commented as they passed their temporary enclosure. The three chickens explored their new home, scratching at the grass and clucking softly. "It'll be nice to have some eggs."

Daryl grunted in agreement, squinting up at the warm sun. "There were four of 'em."

"What happened to the fourth?"

"Aaron found a can o' crisco…things escalated from there."

He looked at him in surprise, his mouth gaping. "You made fried chicken?"

Gloating, Daryl moaned in delight. "Fuck yeah we did. Best fried chicken you ever tasted…real crispy, yah know?"

Rick's mouth watered as they lingered down by the gate, waiting to farewell Abraham and his team who were heading to check on the safe houses. By his side was Rosita, Glenn, Sasha and Anna, the latter having become a welcome addition on more than one safe house run lately. Anna had gone from strength to strength, having even convinced Erin to join them on one the most recent run prior. Checking in with the run crew, and happily approving of Glenn's plans to take another team out fruit picking later, Rick and Daryl left Alexandria at the same time the run crew. While Betsy closed the gate behind them they breathed a simultaneous sigh of relief, enjoying the comfortable silence brought about by one another's company.

A much welcomed sense of freedom encompassed Rick as they walked, for during all the fuss with Pete, the guns, Aaron and Daryl's return and then Gordon, he hadn't been outside the walls for days. Others had taken care of his rounds on his behalf, and while they likely thought they were doing him a favour, it was really the opposite. Though there was no difference between the air inside the walls and outside, to Rick there was…he needed to be outside. He needed this time outside in the world, the wide open space in which he could breathe freely and mentally recharge.

It was no wonder Carl had been sneaking out lately.

As this thought occurred to him, his sense of relaxation began to diminish as quickly as it began. Ever since Carl's gunshot wound to the leg had fully healed, Rick had been worried that he would resume his habit of sneaking over the walls, this concern intensifying over the last week or so. With Ron and Mikey treating him like shit, and Michonne busy helping manage Pete, there really was little else for Carl to do inside the walls. He still had Enid to hang out with, but in that respect Rick suspected she had been a factor in Carl's tendency to sneak out. He'd seen her outside the walls frequently, and no matter how many times he caught her out there, she made no apology. It seemed Enid answered to no one, and there was nothing any of them could do about it. Despite his reluctant acceptance that this young woman would do whatever the hell she liked, Rick knew her fondness for sneaking out had also encouraged Carl. Rick was almost certain that he had been sneaking out this past weekend…he was just too damn good to be caught in the act.

"It's…" Daryl began uncertainly, trailing off awkwardly for a moment. "It's shit what happened to Noah…Aidan too."

Rick nodded in agreement. Noah and Aidan's death had occurred a mere two days after he and Aaron had left to go recruiting, and it had been Glenn's unfortunate duty to tell Daryl what had happened. Though he and Noah had never been particularly close, Rick knew that he held the same place in Daryl's heart as he had in his own. Noah represented a connection to Beth, and his life was being lived in place of hers. She had died trying to avenge the injustice of what was happening to him, and now he was dead too.

"What's Nicholas been doin' since then?"

Laughing bitterly, Rick answered. "Hiding. I haven't seen a glimpse of him since the funerals. I think it's better that way."

There was a short pause now, the silence allowing Daryl to continue processing grief in his own way. "Tara? She getting better then, huh?"

"She's still getting head aches, some blurry vision when she's tired. She's going to be out of commission for a while yet."

"Mmmm. Glenn said that Carrie took it all pretty hard. Said she ain't been herself lately."

He shrugged his shoulders at this, the two of them picking up their pace to avoid an approaching Walker. He neither agreed nor disagreed with Glenn's observation, and so sought to clarify. "Her confidence took a hit, that's for sure. She's adjusting."

"Weren't none of it her fault though."

"No, it wasn't." Moving away from the walls, they headed towards one of their Waker pits to check on it, knowing that after constantly covering the corpses with lye and soil it was becoming rather shallow. "She's been taking a break from things. She's trying to focus on helping Jessie right now."

Their conversation lapsed for a little while, needing to focus their attention as they checked on their Walker traps. Pits that had at first been ten feet deep were quickly reaching the end of their usefulness. As the pits became full, they slaughtered the Walkers and let them fall where they stood, then covered them with a generous helping of lye and soil. The process continued in that fashion week in and week out, saving the community a tonne on ammunition, but a few of them were becoming rather shallow. The ones he and Daryl checked on indicated that they were getting shallow, and being only waist deep meant that soon enough the Walkers would be able to escape.

Having made their checks of a few particular pits, they resumed their journey around the walls, passing by an array of steel panels and building supplies near the second phase of their expansion. This area, one which would encompass the most houses north of Alexandria, had yet to make significant progress, the focus having so far been on the first phase by the church. As they continued their rounds they soon came upon where the construction were working, Abraham and Tobin looking particularly frustrated with the installation of the second gate. They'd hoped to have finished it by now, but the components just hadn't come together as well as they had when they'd constructed the first gate. Aside from this problem, the expansion had been completed, with even the new watch posts and surveillance camera set up and operational once again. As soon as the gate was finished, the interior sections of the walls would be dismantled, and work would begin on cleaning up the buildings and common areas.

Though he was enjoying the companionable silence he and Daryl so often had, Rick felt the need to speak now. He'd been looking forward to Daryl's return home, and not just because he worried about his safety…he wanted to tell him about Carrie. Since they'd gotten serious, they'd made a point of not saying it to anyone else, wanting Carl to be the first person they told, but with all the delays and everything that had happened, Rick needed to say something.

"Carrie and I," he began tentatively, continuing when he had Daryl's attention. "We're uh…we're making a proper go of things."

Daryl didn't immediately reply, taking a moment to consider what had been said. "So, you two are…" he confirmed, glancing at him side long.

"Yeah, we are."

"Huh," Daryl grunted, looking pleased by this. "So no more sittin' on the fence then?"

Rick smiled at this, remembering Daryl's comments from last time they'd talked like this, his candid advice that while he shouldn't shit where he eats, he also shouldn't sit on the fence either. "No more sitting on the fence. We're going to make a go of this."

"And when did all this happen?"

"The day Noah and Aidan died. That day, it just…" he trailed off, casting his mind back to the moment when everything made sense. "I think it cleared things up for us. I was done waiting, done worrying."

"Worrying?"

"Worrying that she didn't feel the same."

Daryl nodded, taking it all in. "You drop the L bomb and all that shit?"

Chuckling at Daryl's tone, Rick nodded and smiled, his mood lifting the more they talked about this. "Yes, I did. I told her that I love her."

"Good for you," Daryl said cheerfully. "Who knew you had balls after all?"

Able to take some good natured ribbing, Rick smiled and nodded in agreement. "I found 'em, and thank God I did."

Their conversation lapsed when Daryl took his crossbow off his shoulder and raised it to an approaching Walker, Rick drawing his knife and handling a second. Going about the usual process, he took note of the W on the Walker's forehead before swiftly patting down the pockets, taking a small knife. Finding nothing else of interest, he grimaced as he cut off the fourth finger on the left hand and removed a wedding ring and then a watch, slipping them into his satchel along with the knife. Though they were of no value to them now, perhaps one day in the future there would be value in jewellery for trading…jewellery at least could be melted down and used for something they needed.

"Anything?" he asked Daryl, looking around and noting that one of their Walker pits was only a few yards away.

"A puffer," he answered, rattling the grey device before tossing it to Rick. "Empty, but we can use the mouth piece I think."

Catching the puffer, Rick paused and looked at it, thinking about what the newest resident had told them in his interview that morning. He'd killed a woman who had refused to share her Ventolin inhaler, forced to take her life so he could save another. While on one hand Rick's instincts told him there was a certain amount of trust he could afford Gordon, this was also what he had feared. Gordon was just like them…just like him. He was willing to kill in order to save a life. The women who owned the Ventolin was probably scared, desperate the keep the medicine for herself should she need it…killing her to save another person had been the right thing to do, at least in Rick's mind. But to have another person like him in this community? Rick wasn't sure he'd ever be able to fully trust someone like Gordon. They were too alike.

Putting the empty puffer into his satchel, he picked up the dead Walker's legs and began dragging it over to the pits, Daryl doing the same thing with the one he had killed. Minutes later they were shoving the bodies into the pits, hearing the heavy thump as their bodies hit the ground. The second Walker they pushed in knocked over a few of the live ones, causing a domino effect in which they all tumbled to their knees. Watching on, Rick had to remind himself not to laugh…Walkers weren't for their amusement, they had been people once. It was easy to forget that.

"How's Carl adjusting?" Daryl asked, the two of them washing their hands with some bottled water.

"To what?" he asked sarcastically. "To his father being the second most hated man in Alexandria? To Noah being torn apart alive? To brawling with Ron, and his friends treating him like shit? He's doing just fine."

"Oh," Daryl said lowly, having not really thought about this. "Sucks to be him?"

Rick nodded. "Yeah, it sucks to be him. He's missed you." The latter remark got the reaction he had been hoping for, with Daryl looking suitably remorseful for his absence.

"How's he getting on with Carrie?"

Gritting his teeth, Rick ran his hand over the back of his neck as he started walking again, Daryl falling into place beside him as they resumed their rounds. He knew exactly what Daryl was going to say, which made him dread giving an honest answer. "We haven't told him yet."

Daryl swore under his breath, and he narrowed his eyes at Rick in frustration. "Why the fuck not?"

"Did you miss everything he's going through right now? His best friend is dead, and his other friends are treating him like shit. The last thing he wants is to find out his dad is trying to move on with his life."

There was a short pause right now, but the silence was uncomfortable. "Better than him finding out from someo-"

"Yeah, yeah," he said, abruptly cutting him off. "Tell me something I don't know."

"He'll fucking hit the roof if he don't find out from you," Daryl warned. "You gotta tell him. Now, while you still got the chance."

"I've tried. Trust me, I've tried. We were ready to tell him last Tuesday."

"Why didn't yah?"

"Because that was the day he and Ron got into a fight."

Daryl muttered something under his breath, shrugging his shoulders. "Is it wrong to say I'm proud o' him for that?" he enquired bluntly. "I saw Ron's face…Carl pummelled him."

"Yes, it is wrong to say that. But between you and me? I'm a little proud of him too."

"So he goes and gets into a fight. Big deal. Why you still ain't told him?"

Rick sighed, glad that he could get this all off his chest, that he could articulate it to someone without getting into an argument about it. "That's when he told me about Pete and Jessie, about how he's abusing her. After that, I had to focus on her. We had to make sure she was alright, that she would accept our help, that we got Pete out with minimal fuss."

Daryl scoffed under his breath. "Good job with that, by the way," he grunted, gesturing to Rick's face. "So what gives?"

"What gives?"

"Yeah. What gives?"

"What gives, is that we're telling him today."

Daryl frowned, clearly surprised by this remark. "Are yah?"

"Yes," Rick said vehemently. "Carrie and I are going to tell him when he comes home from school."

"But?"

"But, nothing."

Daryl shook his head, clearly disbelieving. "Nah, I know you man…what's the but?"

Cursing how well Daryl knew him, how well he could read the tone of his voice, Rick reluctantly answered. "I think Carl's been sneaking over the walls."

"Yeah, so what?"

"So what?" he questioned incredulously.

"You gonna be mad at him for taking you up on it?"

Stopping in his tracks, Rick put his hand on Daryl's arm to stop him. "Taking me up on it?"

Daryl raised an eyebrow. "Yeah…I thought you knew."

"You thought I knew?" Rick questioned in alarm. "So, _you_ know? You know he's been sneaking out?"

Daryl blinked. "You don't know?"

"No!"

There was a long pause, Daryl looked around uncomfortably. "Well, this is fucking awkward, ain't it?"

Reigning in his temper, Rick grit his teeth and took a deep breath. "How long has this been going on?"

"I dunno, I just found him out here once…day before Aaron and I left the other week."

"And you just let it go?"

"No," he said, sound highly affronted. "I gave him a piece of my mind and threatened to beat his ass, but he said you were okay with it."

The latter remark nearly rendered Rick speechless, and he simply gaped at Daryl until the words came to him. "Carl told you he had my blessing to go outside the walls alone, and you believed him?"

Flexing his jaw, Daryl shrugged offishly, clearly embarrassed. "Well, when you put it like that, it sounds-"

"It's sounds really fucking stupid!" Rick swore in anger. Just as he was about to continue, to tell Daryl exactly how stupid he had been, he forced himself to stop. This wasn't Daryl's fault…Carl was not normally deceptive, and had earned the trust of everyone in their group. Having such trust only made it easier to deceive people, thus making that deception even worse. "I'm sorry…this isn't your fault."

"It ain't?"

"No," he said darkly, setting off again.

His faster pace reflecting the anger he felt inside, Rick mulled over what he was going to do about this. He seethed at the thought that Daryl might know what was going on his his son's life better than he did, particularly given this wasn't the first time he'd noticed it. The last time Daryl had returned from his recruiting run he'd been the one to note that Carl wasn't driving Rick up the wall because he was being a brat, but because he was craving his attention. How did Daryl do that? He was hardly ever around, and yet he seemed to know what was going on in Carl's life better than Rick did.

To his frustration, Rick knew what was happening. They'd experienced this before. When they first settled at the prison for the longest time he had neglected the relationship he had with his son, always so focused on keeping him alive and fed. It had felt like he had too many things to take care of, like there was always something that he needed to handle, and he could feel that happening again here in Alexandria. Being totally honest with himself, he knew that had been happening here all along. He busied himself taking care of all the problems, and though he'd been making a greater effort to spend time with both his children, he couldn't honestly deny that they were often set aside. It wasn't his intention to do that, but the problems that arose were always so critical and time sensitive, and they always needed him to handle it.

This was partly his fault.

From the corner of his eye he saw Daryl removing his crossbow from his back, his eyes set on a Walker that was approaching them. Putting his hand on his elbow Rick stopped him and then drew his pocket knife, feeling the grim satisfaction that came with opening the blade and locking it into place. Needing to expel some of his restless energy, he marched up to the Walker and plunged his knife up and under the jaw, using such force he actually embedded the handle. Letting the Walker fall with his knife still in place, he sighed dejectedly as he looked down at it. Though it was so decomposed it was missing half it's face, including its right eye, he couldn't help but see a resemblance to Carl. This person had been about his age, having the same build and messy brown hair.

"Here," Daryl grunted after Rick had retrieved his knife and washed the blood from his hands. He held out a packet of his Marlboros, shaking it when Rick didn't do anything. "Just fucking have one. Way you're actin', I'd roll you a joint if I thought you'd smoke it."

Rick laughed under his breath, gratefully taking one of the cigarettes. "So that marijuana plant out here was yours?" he asked, lighting the cigarette and taking a generous puff.

"There's pot out here?"

"There was a while back."

Daryl snorted, shaking his head and lighting his own cigarette. "Nah, that weren't mine. You ain't worried about the kids, are yah? That it might be theirs?"

"No," Rick shook his head. "At their age, these days? They'd sooner wipe their asses with it than figure out they could smoke it."

Daryl snorted again, louder this time. "Waste of a leaf, I'll tell yah that."

Unable to help himself, Rick started laughing, a genuine smile coming across his face. With every word Daryl said combined with the relief of the cigarette, he began to feel a little better, his temper beginning to cool off as quickly as it had flared. Looking around as he flicked the cigarette to drop the ash he wearily sat down beside the Walker he had just killed, looking at its mangled face again…for some reason it really did remind him of Carl.

"You alright, man?" Daryl asked in concern. Leaning back against the opposite tree, taking the responsibility of keeping watch.

"I don't know," he answered honestly, going to rub his face and then stopping himself as he remembered the cuts. Instead he had to settle for rubbing the back of his neck, aggravating the cuts there instead. "I can't seem to catch a break lately. There's always _something_."

"Yeah," Daryl agreed, blowing out a puff of smoke.

"Would you stay awhile this time?" he asked hopefully, always hating it when he would leave. Daryl nodded his head, but didn't meet his eye. "Daryl…stay for more than a week. Please."

"Yeah, I will," he said, looking at him now. "I promise. Besides, I wanna stick around and make sure Gordon settles in, you know? And Aaron, I think he's been missing Eric."

"And here I thought you might be missing me."

Daryl rolled his eyes. "Sure. Like my balls miss jock itch."

"We're missing you."

"Mmmm," Daryl shrugged, looking away now like he always did at this type of comment. "So, you're…you're telling Carl today," he muttered to himself.

Rick looked at him incredulously. "You're kidding, right?"

"Man, yah just said you were. Thought it was all planned with you and Carrie."

"It was," he muttered darkly, thinking about the revelation that Carl had been sneaking out. "Shit, she's going to be mad as hell," he muttered, dreading the look on her face.

"Why aint yah tellin' him?"

"You think today is a good time?" he questioned, taking a long draw of the cigarette. "I'm about to punish him to high hell for lying and sneaking out. Should I follow it up by telling him about Carrie?"

Daryl shrugged noncommittally. "Well, alright…that'd go down like a sack of shit. But yah can't keep everyone happy. Either piss off your kid, or piss off your woman."

There was an awkward pause now, Rick watching as Daryl went to say something only to stop himself at the last minute. Sensing that he had something to say, Rick focused on finishing his cigarette, on watching the end burn red with each inhalation.

"I talked to Carol last night," Daryl finally said, his voice rather quiet. "She told me what's going on with you an' Pete, about the things he's been sayin' to yah."

"Good," Rick said shortly, stubbing out the butt and then throwing it away, the environment be damned.

"You really think he'd tell Carl about Ass Kicker?"

"I don't know," he muttered. "That's what scares me…I just don't know."

"Well…not to beat a dead horse, but you really ought'a tell Carl these things yourself."

"No," he said sharply, appalled that Daryl would even suggest such a thing. "No. I'm no-"

"No, not about Judith," he clarified hastily. "Fuck no, not about her…about you and Carrie."

Rick sighed in frustration. They were back to this again. "Yeah, I know. But it's not that simple."

"Seems simple to me. Pete's threatening to tell yah kid? Nip it in the bud, and tell him yourself. Simple."

"It's not. I want to tell him, Daryl, I-"

"Do yah?" he questioned, though not confrontationally. "It's only me here, man, so be honest. Do you want to tell him?"

"Yes," he emphasised. "I want to tell him, but it's not that simple. I have to do this right, for Carl's sake. He misses Lori, a lot. He dreams about her…he talks about her in his sleep. Me trying to move on with my life is going to hard for him to deal with. Think about how you reacted when your mom died, and your father moved on with his life."

Daryl raised his eyebrows at this, surprised Rick tried to draw comparisons. "My father was red neck trash who brought home pieces of ass, before and after mom died. You ain't bringing home a piece of ass, Carl will see that."

Clenching his jaw, Rick nodded, seeing the difference. "I know, but-"

"No buts," Daryl shook his head abruptly. "You don't wanna tell him today? I get that, it makes sense, but stop making excuses."

"I'm not m-"

"Hang onto yah tits and let me talk, alright?" Daryl cut him off impatiently. "You and Carrie ain't in a position to keep waiting. You taking a big fucking risk, alright? This gon' bite you in the ass if you don't handle your shit!"

"Handle my shit?" he questioned angrily. "I don't have time to handle my shit, I'm too busy making sure people aren't beating their wives to death."

Daryl shook his head, unconcerned by Rick's outburst. "I'm telling yah man, get rid of his ammunition. Tell Carl before he does, then you got nothin' to worry about."

Restlessly twisting the heel of his boot into the ground, Rick began to feel rather defeated by everything going on. "That doesn't fix the problem with Pete. What about Judith? If he doesn't have Carl as ammunition against me, he'll use her."

Remembering what Carol had told him, Daryl sighed dejectedly. "Don't piss him off?"

"Alright. I practically forced his wife to leave him, but sure…I won't piss him off."

Taking his crossbow off his shoulder and lowering it to the ground, Daryl clenched his jaw as he looked around to assess their safety. "You do whatever you gotta do to look after those kids of yours," he began slowly, continuing only when Rick looked up at him. "I'll back you up all the way, you know that."

Though he appreciated the words, always trusting Daryl had his back regardless, it was of little comfort to him. "I can't kill him," he said bluntly, broaching the subject they were both dancing around. "I can't do anything to him."

"Why? 'Cause of Maggie?"

Nodding, he looked at the hole he had made in the ground with the heel of his boot, studying it as though that's where the answers to his problems were buried. "Denise is better than anyone expected, but she's got no experience managing a pregnancy or delivery, let alone pre-eclampsia. Maggie needs Pete, whether I like it or not."

"So…what are you gonna do?"

"I don't know," he admitted softly, kicking at the hole he had made. "I don't fucking know."

There was a long silence now, the type that fell suddenly and felt difficult t overcome. Still staying the hole he had left in the ground Rick tried to rest his weary mind, trusting that Daryl was keeping watch, that he was protecting them both. He felt bone tired, weary of handling other people's problems while his own took second place. But that was changing today, it had to…he couldn't tell Carl about he and Carrie, but he could deal with the newest problem that had sprung up on him. Carl had been sneaking out, he'd lied to Daryl when he was caught…that was a problem that could not wait a moment more. But when he raised his head to suggest that they start heading home, he noted that Daryl seemed to be on edge, his body language tense and uncomfortable.

"Now what?" Rick questioned impatiently, recognising his expression. "If you've got something else to say, let's hear it."

Shifting his weight uncomfortably, Daryl sighed as he plunged his hand into his pocket and withdrew his cigarettes. Stepping over the dead Walker he held them out to Rick again.

"No, thank you."

"Fucking take one, please?" Daryl insisted. "Trust me…you gonna need it."

Completely at his wits end, he grit his teeth and took a second, catching Daryl's lighter a moment later. "Happy now?" he asked, dangling the cigarette between his lips as he lit it.

"Over the moon," he muttered, pocketing the lighter again.

"So, what is it?"

Still looking uncomfortable, Daryl avoided eye contact as he answered. "Aaron and me…we did somethin' you ain't gonna like."

"What?"

"When we were out recruitin'…we went out west."

"West?"

"Yeah…towards Ohio."

Realisation dawned on Rick, and he glared daggers at Daryl as he took a much needed draw on his cigarette. "Please tell me you're kidding."

"No."

"You son of…" he trailed off before he said something he regretted. Gritting his teeth, he clenched his fists together as he tried to think, struggling to comprehend the stupidity of what they had done. Marion, Ohio was the base for another settlement of survivors much like Alexandria. They knew very little about them other than they were a large settlement with enough people and means to send out half a dozen run crews into neighbouring states, and that these run crews were of the violent disposition. "You and Aaron went to Ohio without back up?"

"Well it ain't like we knocked on their doors and introduced ourselves."

"You might as well have!"

"It's done now," Daryl dismissed, looking like he regretted his honesty.

"Why would you do that? If you wanted to check them out, we could have organised a full run crew to do it, not you and Aaron alone!"

Like he always did Daryl just shrugged and then avoided eye contact, tilting his head so that he could hide behind his hair. "We was heading that way already…and then we just went there. Didn't really talk about it. We left Merle's motorcycle and just took the car…too noisy, yah know."

Biting back the harsh remark he wanted to make, Rick instead took a long drag of the cigarette and then tried to think. "I take it you found them?"

Daryl nodded, taking a deep breath before he answered. "They're just like us. Similar set up, similar types of people."

"No, they're not," he rebuked him sharply. "They're not like us at all. They attacked us without provocation, they…" he trailed off, thinking of Granger who had been a part of that community's run crew. He'd been one of the men who had raped Carrie the previous year, and had then moved on to join the Ohio group when he escaped her attempt to kill him. "They're not like us."

"They seem organised," Daryl continued after an uncomfortable pause. "But they got dead weight too…a lot of it."

"Where are they, exactly?"

"In some gated community. Lots of big, fancy houses…their walls aren't that big, but they're all more in the centre of the community, so they're not attracting many Walkers. They got some watch points, plenty of food and ammunition from the sounds of it. Aaron and I, we just kept our distance and listened."

"How many people?"

"Hard to say, we didn't really get a look."

"No chatter about us? About them meeting us on the supply run?"

"Not that we heard."

Rick fell silent again, seething now as he thought about what Daryl had told him. He knew what Daryl was like, that he was impulsive and reckless when he got a bold idea in his head, but he had hoped Aaron's level headedness and caution would even the two of them out. As if he didn't have enough to worry about, now Daryl was giving him more reason to worry when he took his next recruiting run? What if the people from Ohio had noticed them? What if Daryl and Aaron had been followed back to Alexandria?

"Going there by yourself was pretty stupid," he muttered as he got to his feet, stamping the cigarette butt out with the toe of his boot. "You know that, right?"

"Yeah, I know," he said, unabashed by his chastisement.

Without another word they set off back towards Alexandria, having almost completed their circuit. But as they drew closer and closer an unsettling feeling of dread settled over Rick, the type that made him want to delay his return home. In fact, with every step closer to the gates he became distinctly aware that he didn't want to go home, he didn't want to face his responsibilities as a father. Parenting Carl in the way he needed to meant that Carrie was going to suffer, that she was going to be put as second best. He knew that it was the right thing to do, that he had to be a parent first above all else, but in the back of his mind a small fear was beginning to grow. Carrie insisted that she understood his need to be a parent first, but surely being always put in second place would start to grow old. As much as he didn't want to have to confront Carl about sneaking out, he didn't want to see the look on Carrie's face when he told her they had to delay. He didn't think he could bear to see her disappointment and thinly veiled accusation.

"Just…" Rick began awkwardly, glancing at Daryl. Ahead of them was the gate, their return home having loomed up at him sooner than he expected. He really didn't want to go in there today. "Just…wait."

"Wait?" Daryl frowned, looking at him in confusion. "For what?"

He hesitated, trying to answer Daryl's question. "Just…one more lap," he decided, feeling relieved as he came to this realisation and decision. "One more lap, and then we'll go in."

* * *

Sitting dejectedly at the top of the staircase, Carrie sighed as she listened to the voices downstairs, her heart filled with grim disappointment before it even began. Daryl had just caught her as she headed for the stairs, giving her a low warning that she ought not go down there just yet. With a tense expression and Judith on his hip he looked at her sympathetically as he explained what was going on, that Rick was about to confront Carl with his suspicion that he had been sneaking over the walls. Even though they hadn't told anyone about it yet, Carrie got the feeling that Daryl knew that she and Rick were making a serious attempt at their relationship, and that they had been planning to tell Carl that afternoon. Though she didn't mind it, she should have known that Rick would go to Daryl for advice, that he'd tell Daryl everything.

So while Daryl and Judith retreated into his attic bedroom, Carrie sat on the top of the stairs and listened to Rick confronting his son. Despite what Daryl had told her, she crossed her fingers and hoped that it wasn't true, that Carl denied everything and that Rick believed him. If Carl was about to get into serious trouble, then there was no way Rick would be willing to tell him about their relationship. Selfishly hoping that none of it was true, she waited with bated breath for the outcome of their talk…she didn't have to wait long. Rick confronted him straight away, and when he realised that he had been caught Carl seemed to know he had no choice but to come clean.

"Yeah…I did," he said quietly, his voice only just audible to Carrie upstairs.

"You did what?" Rick demanded, expecting a full confession.

"I snuck out…I climbed over the walls."

"How many times?" There was a brief pause before Rick repeated his question, telling his son to speak up.

"I don't know," he finally answered. "Not all the time…just, sometimes."

"What else did you do?"

"Umm…"

"What else?"

Carrie sighed to herself. _God dammit Carl, what else have you done?_

"I…I lied about it."

"You lied to _Daryl!_ " Rick said, the anger in his voice making Carrie cringe.

"Yes. I told him that I was allowed to be outside."

"How could you ever expect him to trust you again?" he asked, his voice growing more upset. "Daryl loves you like his own brother. He trusts you, and you threw that away by lying to his face, by deceiving him."

"I-I'm sorry, Dad," Carl started hastily apologising. "I…I didn't mean to lie, it jus-"

"Why would you even do this, why would you sneak out? I don't lock you up in here, I don't treat you like a child! Is this how you should repay that? Carl?"

"No."

"Then why did you do it?"

As Carl gave a heavy sigh Carrie braced herself, hoping he came up with an incredible excuse, one that gave Rick no option other than to forgive him. That's what she needed right now, she needed for this to all blow over. If it didn't, Rick wouldn't tell him about their relationship, she knew he wouldn't.

"I did it because wanted to," Carl finally explained, knowing it wasn't enough. "I wanted to be out there, to stay strong and…you know."

"You go outside all the time," Rick reminded him, his tone becoming strangely calm. "Four or five times a week at least. You do rounds with me, you help with the spikes and the pits, you help cut trees and work on construction. Wanting to be outside is not a good enough reason to lie."

"I know, I just want to…I wanted to be alone," he finally confessed. "I wanted to be by myself."

There was a long pause, and Carrie imagined Rick and Carl standing off from one another, Rick very calmly considering his options, considering the merit of what Carl had told him. But even before he began speaking again Carrie knew what was going to happen, she knew what he would say.

"Well I hope you enjoyed your time out there. You won't be going out again for a very long time."

"What?"

"I understand the need to be alone, I feel that need too," Rick told him. "But that doesn't excuse what you've done. You're grounded, for a month."

Carrie gasped in horror.

"A month!" Carl exclaimed, raising his voice for the first time. "Dad, no. You can't be serious."

"I am."

"No, that's too long!" he appealed desperately. "A month is-"

"A very, very long time these days," Rick said lowly. "And that's how long you're going to be grounded."

"But Dad, that-"

"I don't want to hear any arguing. You're grounded for a month, that's your punishment."

There was a horrible silence now, Carrie sitting at the top of the stairs as her heart pounded. This was worse that she anticipated, far worse. These days time passed slowly, and a month was an incredibly long time. Given that she'd been living in Alexandria for a little over two months, she had agree with Carl's protest that it was too long. Rick must be furious with him, he must be completely livid. As she waited with bated breath she wondered what Carl was going to say, whether he'd accept his punishment or he'd fight it. She didn't have to wait long.

"Fine! Ground me, I don't care," Carl snarled angrily. "It's not like I have anywhere to go in the first place."

"Hey, hey!" Rick shouted, the sound of heavy footsteps audible from upstairs. "Don't walk away from me. Who do you think you are?"

"But you-"

"The conversation is not over, Carl. Look at me. If you think being grounded is no big deal, you're sorely mistaken. While ever you're not at school or doing homework, you're going to be working. There are toilets that need scrubbing, windows to clean, weeding, lawns that need to be mown…the next two weeks will consist of work and school. There's no going on rounds, no more working with Tobin in his wood shop, no more seeing your friends-"

"I don't have any friends!"

"Two weeks of that, and if your attitude changes enough I'll reevaluate the final two weeks."

"This is seriously over kill!" Carl protested. "All I did was-"

"I said I don't want to hear it," Rick cut him off, having no patience for his arguments. "You're going to take your punishment and be grateful it's not worse. You owe Daryl an apology, and when this is over you're going to give me a very good reason as to why you're deserving of my trust once again."

There was a long pause, Carl dumb with horror as his punishment began sinking in. When he finally spoke Carrie had to strain her ears to hear it.

"Dad, I'm sorry…I was fine out there. I did everything I was supposed to, I took precautions. You know I can handle myself."

"You think this is about you being outside alone? If you want to go out alone, then fine! I'll make it happen for you, I'll give you privacy outside the walls if that's what you want! That's not the problem here. You deceived me, and you looked Daryl in the eye and betrayed his trust." There was a long bout of silence now, and Carrie swore she could hear her own heart pounding as she waited for Rick to continue. "Do you understand why I'm upset? Why you're being punished?"

"Yes," Carl said quietly, his remorse evident. "I'm sorry, Dad. I just-"

"I said, I don't want to hear it," Rick cut him off again, though his tone eased a little. "I've never been so disappointed in you."

Carrie's heart sank even further into her stomach…there was nothing quite as shameful as hearing your parents tell you they were disappointed in you. Anger was one thing, disappointment was something entirely different.

"You've got an hour before school starts," Rick stated calmly. "Go to your room and make sure your homework is finished."

There was silence for a long moment, Carrie picturing Carl's regret as he turned on his heel and did as he was told. At the sound of his approaching footsteps she promptly leapt to her feet, hesitating for a moment as she looked down the hall way to her bedroom. She didn't want him to catch her eavesdropping, but she'd never make it to her bedroom in time. Making a split second decision she swiftly made her way up the staircase towards Daryl's bedroom, stopping after the landing where Carl could no longer see her. Sitting down with a weary sigh, she listened as he reached the first floor and went into the bedroom he shared with Rick, quietly closing the door behind himself. Waiting, she wondered if she would be privy to any of Carl's furious yells or rants, if he'd emit a loud shout of frustration that would surely just infuriate Rick even more. To her relief he did not, and with the confrontation concluded, the entire house became eerily silent.

Sitting alone just outside the curtin that gave Daryl privacy in the attic, Carrie fought back the angry, frustrated tears that threatened to spill from her eyes. She'd been waiting so long for today, for the moment that they'd finally tell Carl about their relationship, but before she even had a chance to talk to Rick, she knew he'd be stalling it. The worst thing was, she wouldn't blame him. The discovery that Carl had been sneaking over the walls for many weeks now was a major problem, almost as bad as the fact he had apparently lied to Daryl about it at one stage. This was not something that could be over looked…Rick needed to focus on this, he needed to properly address what his son had done.

But he promised her...he _promised_.

Clenching her hands into fists, she silently cursed Carl for ruining this day for her, for Rick too. All she wanted right now was for something to go her way, and yet there always seemed to be something working against them. Every time she and Rick found happiness together, it was only ever short lived. The world external to them both always broke in, it always ruined things. First Carl and Ron fighting, then the problems with Pete and Jessie, the stolen guns…now Carl was screwing this up for them again. There was always something, and though she kept telling Rick that there'd never be a perfect time, she knew he was still trying to wait for it.

Movement behind her made her look around, and she hastily wiped her eyes and looked away as Daryl came out of his bedroom. He lingered for a moment and adjusted the curtains, leaving them open so that he could watch Judith who was playing happily on his rug, and then he took a seat on the stairs beside Carrie.

"You alright?" he asked, his tone a mixture of concern and awkwardness. Daryl wasn't really one for conversation, but he made the effort when he saw it necessary.

She wasn't. She was truly at her wits end, and she wasn't sure how much more of this stalling and waiting that she could take. "Yeah," she nodded, clearing her throat and then smiling. "Just frustrated, that's all."

"Mmm," he grunted, his hand in his pocket flicking the lid of his lighter. "You know, Rick…he didn't wan' it to go like this. He-"

"I know," she said honestly, believing this to be true.

Daryl scratched his nose, shifting around a little. "I, uhh…I heard what happened with y'all," he said. When he gestured to the cast on her arm, she knew he was referring to Noah and Aidan's deaths. "I'm glad you're alright. I heard tha' you…you know…"

Though she appreciated Daryl's floundering attempts to express his sadness, she changed the subject when she felt her eyes beginning to water again. "I take it the man you brought back is staying? Gordon?"

"Yeah, he is. Aaron and Erin are putting him up at their place for now. He's not very…social."

"I'm glad its worked out for him."

Daryl shrugged nonchalantly. "Means you ain't the newest resident no more. You been bumped."

She smiled despite the situation. "I'll give up my crown, no problem." Looking at him appreciatively, she smiled at him before reluctantly getting up. "I have to go…I'm sorry."

When he grunted his usual response she tucked her broken arm against her stomach and then hugged him tightly, sighing in relief when he returned it, albeit clumsily. Taking what she could get, for Daryl didn't often offer physical affection, she held him tightly and then kissed his cheek as she stood up, amused by the flash of embarrassment on his face.

"We've missed you," she said sincerely. "I hope you stay a while this time."

"Hey, wait," he said suddenly, catching her before she disappeared around the landing. "Do us a favour, yeah?"

"Sure."

He hesitated before asking, looking unsure of himself. "Just go easy on him," he requested, not needing to clarify who they were talking about. "I don't think he's doin' so good at the moment."

Taking this in, Carrie simply nodded. "See you around."

With nothing else to say they simply left it at that, and Carrie headed back down to the first floor and returned to her bedroom. Taking the new jacket Olivia had given her, one that would accommodate the cast on her arm, she took it with her and headed downstairs. Daryl's request that she go easy on Rick lingered in the back of her mind, for although she couldn't blame him if he wanted to stall the delivery of their news, that didn't mean she wasn't mad as hell. Besides…with what she was about to do, going easy on him wasn't exactly going to happen.

When she got downstairs she caught a glimpse of Rick's silhouette standing outside on the front porch. Knowing that he was likely waiting for her to come down, she found her water bottle from the draining rack in the kitchen and then filled it with water before heading to the gun safe. Well adapted to using her left hand for most things, she entered the combination and took out her Ruger. She checked the magazine and took note that there was a round in the chamber, then slipped it into the holster she now wore on her left leg. As she closed the safe and secured the child lock on the cupboard door she braced herself to speak with Rick, knowing he wasn't going to be happy with her plans for the afternoon.

Rick looked up at her when she came outside, his face bearing not only the injuries from his brawl with Pete, but also the weight of what he had learnt about Carl. It had only just passed eleven o'clock in the morning, but he looked like he'd already put in a full day of work. Daryl was right, it didn't seem that Rick was doing so good at the moment…why hadn't she noticed this?

"Hey," she greeted him awkwardly, wanting to be the one who spoke first. "Is everything okay with Carl?"

He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck as he looked out at the gardens. "Yes…no," he corrected himself. "I'm sure Daryl told you."

"He did."

Placing both his hands on the porch railing, he turned away from her as he continued speaking, his head bowed. "The thing is, Carrie, we -"

"I know," she cut him off, knowing what he was going to say.

"I want to," he started to say. "You know I do, but -"

"I know," she repeated, trying and failing not to sound tense.

There was an awkward pause, Rick still avoiding eye contact until he finally looked up at her with a long sigh. "I'm sorry," he said sincerely, looking as disappointed as she felt. "I know I promised it would be today. Please, don't be mad."

"I'm not mad."

He raised an eyebrow at this. "Really?" he questioned. "Because you seem furious."

She wasn't furious, rather she just felt like she had nothing left except bitter disappointment. "I am mad, but not at you. I get it. That's why I'm mad."

"I don't understand."

"Not telling him is the right call," she stated simply. "So I can't be mad that you're breaking your promise, because you're doing the right thing."

Rick seemed unsatisfied with this explanation, and he closed his eyes as he took a deep breath. "So, you're mad at me because you can't be mad at me?"

She paused, considering this. "Yes."

"Okay," he nodded, his voice tinged with sarcasm. "What am I supposed to do about that?"

"Nothing," she shook her head honestly. Letting that linger for a moment, she brushed her loose hair behind her ears, wishing she had thought to grab a hair tie. "I have to go, I want to get ready for a run."

As she fully expected, Rick's eyes widened in surprise, alarm crossing his face as she turned away and descended the porch steps. "A run?" he questioned, beginning to follow her. "You're going on a run?"

She nodded, gritting her teeth when he darted in front of her and blocked her path. "We're not going far."

"You shouldn't be going on a run," he said angrily, acting as though she had personally offended him. "Not in your condition."

His tone was contagious, making it only too easy for her to forget Daryl's request that she go easy on him. "My condition?"

"You've got a broken wrist."

"And my other one works just fine."

"You can't even defend yourself," he continued, trying to reason with her.

Her frustration peaking, she snapped at him. "Yes, I can! I've been practicing, my aim is just fine."

"But you…" he started, trailing off and taking a deep breath. Taking a step backwards, he seemed to thoroughly consider his words before speaking again. "Carrie, you haven't been outside the walls since it happened…since the last supply run."

"I have," she said incredulously. "You know I have, you're the one who went with me."

"Once, and I practically had to drag you out there," he continued, his tone still annoyingly calm and reasonable. "Are you sure you're ready for this?"

"Yes."

He hesitated, but he seemed certain of himself. "I don't think you are," he disagreed apologetically. "You don't have anything to prove by going back out there."

Carrie stood her ground, her frustration and anger at the situation making her take it all out on him. "You're entitled to your opinion."

"Don't be like that," he argued, following her as she set off again. "Carrie!"

"You are not in charge of the run crew, Glenn is. I asked him days ago if I could come on the next one, and he said yes."

"I can overrule him. I -."

"Don't you dare," she growled at him, stopping abruptly. "You do that to me, and I'll never forgive you for it."

"I don't think you're ready," he insisted, softening his tone in attempt to make her do the same. "I'm ju-"

"I don't care what you think!" she snapped at him. "I don't answer to you! Don't try controlling me just because you're pissed off with Carl."

Rick sighed now as he rubbed the bridge of his nose, a habit that expressed his frustration. "Carrie, please. I'm asking nicely now…don't go."

She laughed at him incredulously. "You think you can manipulate me that easily?"

"I'm not trying to manipulate you. I'm asking you, please don't go."

Shaking her head she refused him once again. She turned and began to walk away, but slowed down after only a few yards and turned back. Behind him in the distance the gate was being hauled open, admitting the run van that Abraham and his group had taken to the safe houses. "We're going five miles to pick fruit," she told him, trying to appease him. "We won't even be two hours."

"Then why even bother?"

"Because I want to go, I want to get back out there. You should be glad I am."

"Carrie, j-"

She didn't let him continue, cutting him off abruptly as she walked away. "I'm going, and I don't need your permission.

Clenching her fists she walked away angrily, furious with him for this. She was nervous enough about going on a run with a broken wrist, the last she needed was him putting doubts in her head, making her feel nervous or unsure. Was it too much to ask for a little support? For a few words of encouragement? To her frustration she didn't get much time to dwell on this, or to alleviate her frustration, for the run van passed her and skidded to a stop in front of the Infirmary. The doors opened, the occupants jumping out in quite the hurry, Sasha from the driver's side and Anna from the passenger.

Seeing that something was wrong, Rick hastened to join them. "What happened? Is everyone alright?"

"Everyone's fine," Sasha said immediately, getting the reassurances out of the way. "But we've got a problem…three of them."

Seeing Anna's distraught and frightened face, Carrie had to agree with the latter. "Are you okay?" she asked her kindly, relieved when she nodded.

"Three of those Wolves found our second safe house," Sasha began explaining. "The big one out in the suburbs. They got away from us."

"Shit," Rick muttered, sharing a concerned glance with Carrie. "They get anything?"

"Made a feast of some of our food, probably stuffed their pockets when they saw us coming."

"No one got hurt?" Rick clarified, looking at the van and wondering where the others were.

"No, they high tailed it just as we got there. Glenn, Rosita and Abraham stayed, Anna and I came back to bring reinforcements."

Carrie's heart began to sink, and selfishly too. She'd been depending on the supply run to pick fruit, she'd been looking forward to it. Now it would have to be put on hold, for the priority would be to clear out the discovered safe house, but with her broken wrist she'd be dead weight during that operation. It would make sense for her to stay behind, to miss out on the opportunity to get back out there, to reacclimatise herself to the world that still existed beyond the walls. While she was frustrated and disappointed, she had no doubt that Rick would be pleased with the change in circumstances…one glance at his expression indicated that he was.

There was nothing she could do but accept it. "You'll need to take extra people," she muttered, looking at Sasha before setting off towards the armoury, her original destination anyway. "I'll cover the watch posts for you."

Rick began to follow, his expression apologetic now. "Carrie, yo-"

"Don't," she said lowly, not wanting to hear him say that it was best, or that she was doing the right thing.

His shoulders slumped as she strode past him, his expression souring. "I thought you weren't mad at me," he said, not caring if Sasha or Anna heard.

Feeling petulant and wronged she ignored his comment, angered tears welling up in her eyes until she blinked furiously as she walked away. Her disposition was noted by all innocent parties she happened to pass, her expression alarming Olivia so much that she questioned whether or not she should be going into the armoury. More frustrated than she felt in weeks she did her best to placate Olivia, to reassure her she wasn't about to go off the deep end, but it took all her self-control not to insist she join the new crew heading back to the safe house. Daryl's request that she go easy on Rick had been denied, that much was for sure, but she wasn't even certain she regretted it. She knew she'd been a bitch to him, that she'd picked a fight instead of calming alleviating his fears…but she couldn't help herself. She wanted to prove him wrong, to proudly show that he couldn't boss her around, that he wasn't in charge of her…the circumstances just wouldn't allow for it. The fruit picking would have to wait for another day, as would their plans to tell Carl.

Daryl had told her Rick wasn't doing so good…problem was, neither was she.

* * *

A/N I loved writing this chapter, I had a lot of fun writing the warring scenes between the main characters, and I hope you enjoyed too. Don't forget to give me a shout out by leaving a review with your thoughts on the chapter and story.

And as if I could forget to mention, only three days until Season 7!


	38. Chapter 38

My response to Guest reviewer from Oct 22 - unfortunately I can't respond to you directly as you're not logged into a account.

I genuinely appreciate your criticism, and I'm sorry that you're unhappy with the slow pace of these chapters, but I stand by the storyline I'm creating. Is it perfect? No way in hell is it perfect! I agree with you, some of the plot points have been dragged out longer than I wanted them to be, but I'm doing my best to minimise that. Some chapters have undergone major reconstruction (including 37-40) and even complete deletion to ensure that the story moves on as quickly as possible. I've been disappointed to ditch some subplots that would have been great entertainment, but for the sake of keeping things moving I had to ditch them. I guess I'm trying to say that I'm doing my best here, but that I do stand by the story I'm creating. I'm sorry you feel that barely anything happens.

As for the fact that I only post once a week, given that this is a fanfic from which I make $0 in profit, I can't write any faster. Writing this story occupies the majority of my free time, it's a well loved hobby of mine, and I'd love the luxury of being able to quit my job and write for 40 hours a week. But the reality is that I can't - therefore fan fiction readers have to wait and read at my pace. I understand that this wait also contributes to the way the storyline feels much slower. I love and appreciate my readers, and if I could speed things up for them I absolutely would. I want to give chapters asap, but I simply can't.

Like I said, I genuinely appreciate your criticisms, and I'm sorry that you're unhappy with the pace. There won't be action every chapter, and the characters I'm writing make stupid, dumb mistakes like delaying important conversations. If you're dissatisfied with the story's pace, move on to something that is completed, that way you don't have to wait between chapters. Some Rick/OFC stories that I have really really loved include The World We Live In by eventualprocrastination, and Solace by Blue Crush. They're great stories, and they're completed, so you'll probably find better enjoyment from them.

* * *

Was there any better way to spend a Saturday afternoon?

Ever since Carl had gone back to his laborious chores after lunch and Michonne had taken Judith to the Pantry, she and Rick had taken advantage of their free time together. It had been her idea that they abandon their other tasks and hide away from the world, for not only was she particularly in the mood today, she felt like she needed to reconnect with him. Happy and content, she sighed as she lay naked on her bed, Rick's breath against her shoulder making her skin erupt in gooseflesh. She smiled when she noticed that his eyes were closed, her hand automatically reaching up to push the curls off his forehead so that she could see him properly. He looked so content, impossibly relaxed in a way she hadn't seen him for a long time. Taking a moment to enjoy their time together she lowered her hand and closed her own eyes too, revelling in the way their bodies felt against one another.

Right now it felt like sex was the only thing they could get right, the only thing they had going for them. But the way they held one another now comforted her, the ease of the way they shared a meal together that morning reminding her that there was more, that she hadn't imagined their entire relationship. They had a lot going for them as a couple, more than just sex, and it was this notion that she clung to. They just had to figure this out, to get over the one last hurdle of sharing the news of their relationship. Surely then things would be okay.

Things had been difficult for them lately, for with a relationship came hurdles, the type they were only just learning how to handle as a couple. Being closer to one another made smaller things matter more, the added pressure of how they would handle delivering the news of their relationship to Carl opening them up to petty arguments and harsh exchanges. While at first they had managed them well, their argument from earlier this week had been an eye opener for them, perhaps one they had to have. Rick was fresh from dealing with Carl and exhausted by the inundation of problems he was dealing with, while Carrie was doing her best to tolerate another delay in telling Carl. As couples tend to do they'd unfairly taken their frustrations out on one another…perhaps that's what made it easier for them to forgive and move on. A brief exchange of apologies had been made the following morning, both Rick and Carrie trying to exercise patience and understanding despite their respective frustrations…that's all it had taken. They could have drawn out their argument even longer, they could have spent the following days with anger and resentment festering inside of them, or they could just let it go.

Thinking about their disagreement last Tuesday, Carrie knew she had been taking her frustrations out on him, that she had been picking a fight. While she acknowledged that sometimes a fight was healthy for a relationship, theirs harsh words and disagreements were getting them no where, and so she'd made a conscious decision to avoid it. She wouldn't go picking fights, and nor would she allow her frustrations to brew up inside of her until they came to blows over it. It wasn't Rick's fault that Carl needed to be punished, nor was it his fault that the Wolves' discovery of their safe house delayed her first run since Aidan and Noah's deaths.

Regardless of her acknowledgement that this wasn't entirely his fault, she was still frustrated by the new side of him that she was seeing. She'd never known him to be an indecisive man, to be ineffective in his decisions. The Rick she knew got things done when he said he would, he was effective and followed through on what he said. Why was it so different when it came to Carl? It was not a side of him Carrie was enjoying, ineffectiveness being a trait she had never taken well to. Logan had been like that, a nuance to his character that had frustrated her to no end. Sometimes she had just needed her husband to make a decision, to tell her what he wanted. Brownstone or penthouse? Upper west side, or upper east side? Logan would take an age to commit to a decision, and the chances he followed through on it without changing his mind were slim at best. That was what she was seeing in Rick now, but only in regard to this one thing, to telling Carl.

On one hand she knew she had to cut him some slack, that he was nervous and apprehensive about this, but he was just making everything so much harder on himself. His lack of initiative to actually tell Carl was pushing all of the wrong buttons for Carrie, and in turn she was pushing back. They could have told Carl all of this days ago, a week ago even. It could have been over by now, the bandaid ripped off. She knew that she could tolerate a lot in her partner, that relationships were about compromise and understanding, but she wondered how much longer she would have to give and give. He had to be a parent first, she understood that, but taking second priority in these circumstances was starting to get old, and her frustrations were drawing out the bitchy nature she had suppressed for a long time now.

Trying not to think about their problems, she instead let her mind wander to the better parts of their relationship, the aspects that were working. That morning after Carl started his work she and Rick had shared a meal together…he'd cooked for her, and not for the first time either. It was a joy to watch him in the kitchen, to sit back and observe him doing something so mundane and normal. It amused her to see the way he'd get annoyed when he couldn't find something he was looking for, or the ever patient way he managed to entertain Judith while he cooked. It was a simple meal, just oatmeal with some fresh fruit, but it was enough to earn him her favour for the rest of the day. It was moments like then that reminded her just how good they were together, how easy it was to share his company. Had she ever felt such ease with a man the way she did with him? Had it been this wonderful and simple with Logan?

Drawing her out of her daydreams a short while later, Rick gave a long sigh when he began to rouse, his chin resting on her shoulder moving a little. She waited patiently for him to awaken, watching as he lifted his right arm and rolled his shoulder back to work out a painful kink. When he sighed again and settled back down he stretched his arm across her body, letting his hand come to rest squarely on her breast, and not by accident either. Smiling fondly, she brushed her hand through his hair once again, glad that he was awake now.

"Did you have a nice nap?"

He nodded in response, pressing his lips to the top of her shoulder. "How long have I been asleep?" he asked, his voice low and husky.

Looking to her right she consulted the alarm clock on her nightstand, seeing that it was approaching two o'clock. "Almost a half hour."

He grunted softly and then murmured an apology. "You shouldn't have let me close my eyes."

"You worked hard to earn that nap," she praised him, amused by his short chuckle. "Besides, I know you took a half shift last night…a short nap will get you through the day."

Rick turned onto his back now, the absence of his body against her side like a cold shock to her system. Not yet ready to give up the lazy afternoon they were spending together Carrie followed him, moving onto her side and resting her fingertips against his hip. It was all she had to do to tell him what she wanted, and he automatically raised his arm and slipped it around her, welcoming her to rest her head against his shoulder. She allowed herself to close her eyes for a short while, anticipating the unexpected shift on watch she had been scheduled for that evening.

It was natural that people had a preference for the hours they took watch, and being an early riser Carrie had always preferred to get out of bed at five thirty in the morning and be on watch by six. Being early to bed and early to rise made it frustrating to take an evening shift, and on the rare occasion that she got this shift she tended to struggle once it got past nine o'clock at night. It was the monotony that got to her, that and the darkness that seemed to make her eyelids heavy and her attention lapse. But tonight she had no choice, for with over a dozen of their community struck down with a stomach flu, there were extra shifts on watch to cover at the last minute. Rick had even taken one during the night, taking over from Sasha on the north post a little after two o'clock when she too became struck down ill.

Carrie opened her eyes and looked up at Rick, taking the time to admire him, to appreciate the peaceful expression he wore on his face. In this moment he seemed to have few cares in the world, the two of them stepping away from the many problems that inundated them outside the privacy of her bedroom. Moments like this were what they were both looking forward to in the future, the opportunity for them to just be together, to enjoy the peaceful silence that came over them.

"Rick?" she enquired, noticing that his expression had darkened. "What are you thinking about?"

A moment passed before he answered, his expression slowly turning back to one of peace. "Men hate that question," was all he said, staring up at the ceiling.

"You looked worried, that's all."

He didn't respond to this, but his hand around her shoulder began to move, his fingers tracing themselves up and down her arm as far as he could reach. "I love you."

Carrie gave a short laugh at this. "And that worries you?"

This time he looked down at her, his chest rising and falling before he pressed his lips to the crown of her head. "Of course it does."

She didn't need him to explain, for she understood that loving other people meant you had something to lose. Nevertheless it was a rather depressing note, though thankfully one he seemed to pick up on. Refocusing his attention he sat up a little and looked at her with a lazy smile, his free hand reaching first to brush over her naked breast and then into her hair. He dragged his fingernails over her scalp, eliciting a long moan that she couldn't hold back even if she tried. It was exactly the encouragement she needed, and a moment later Carrie too sat up as she began to feel amorous again. She raised her own hand and moved it across the front of his shoulder, her touch light so as to not aggravate the week old cuts that remained following his fight with Pete. Moving down she stroked the top of his arm now, pleased to note a flicker of embarrassment crossing Rick's face as she admired his bicep, her fingers tracing the shape of the muscle.

"I was watching you help Carl yesterday," she whispered, moving her hand to his chest now. "When you were cutting the grass…it was quite the show."

Since Carl began his punishment Tuesday afternoon many toilets and bathrooms had been scrubbed, starting first at the two houses his family lived in, and then forced to move on to Natalie and Bob's house too. Even better, Rick hadn't been subjected to a single one of Judith's dirty diapers, and everyone in the house was getting a welcomed break from doing the dishes. The punishment was being delivered without compromise, though Carrie suspected that in the back of his mind Rick wondered if he was being too harsh on his son. He was punishing Carl for lying to someone who trusted him, and yet Rick himself was doing exactly that to him. On one hand it was justified that they keep their early relationship from him, for no father should be expected to share his private life with a teenage son, but it had now passed the point of justification. It had been two and a half weeks since the deaths of Aidan and Noah, two and a half weeks since she and Rick had come to terms with exactly what they wanted from one another. The acceptable time frame in which they could tell Carl had come and gone, moving them right into the territory of outright deception.

So it seemed that while Rick was punishing Carl for lying to him, he worked along side him too, participating in some of the hard labour as though seeking penance for his own sins. While it seemed he drew the line at scrubbing bathrooms alongside his son, yesterday Rick had been out in the hot sun with Carl, the two of them pushing the manual lawn mowers to cut the long grass. The task of pushing one of those old things had to be back breaking, but they had yet to find an electric mower and couldn't afford the luxury of running a regular one off gasoline.

"What I wouldn't give for a ride on lawn mower," Rick moaned dramatically, nuzzling the side of her neck before pressing his lips to it.

"A ride on mower? You mean a _toy_ for you and the others to play with."

He kissed her neck a little more firmly now, his tongue darting out to taste her skin. "We wouldn't play with it," he murmured. "Cutting grass is serious business."

"No? But you would fight over it like little kids…don't deny it, I know you."

"That's comple-"

"You and Eugene nearly came to blows over a Cozy Coupe…remember?"

Shrugging, he lowered his head and kissed her shoulder. "I remember that he was wrong, and I was right."

Catching her when she rolled her eyes, he smiled as he began kissing her properly, still stroking his hand over her hair. He pressed his teeth around the swell of her lower lip, pulling it taught until she laughed, her eyes filled with mirth. Letting it go he watched as it went red and swelled a little, and then he kissed her again. Warm and comfortable with her beside him, there was a welcome sense of peacefulness…things were always perfect when they are alone, when the two of them could just be together.

"To answer your question, I was thinking about not making Carl go to school."

This remark made Carrie pull away, and she looked at him in surprise. "Alright. Who are you, and what have you done with Rick?"

"I'm serious. I'd still make him go, just not all the time. Maybe only three or four days a week."

Carrie thought about this, trying to understand. "But, why? It's only four hours a day, that's what you keep telling him anyway."

"I know…I just think it might help," he murmured, sitting up a little so as to kiss her other shoulder. "We started the Lego Death Star last weekend, but we haven't done anymore…I'd like to spend more time with him."

"You say that a lot."

"Yes, I do…and then I don't do anything about it," he admitted candidly. "This is me doing something about it."

"He'll be thrilled. When will you tell him?"

"Maybe this afternoon," was his tentative suggestion. "It'll soften the blow when we tell him about us."

Carrie didn't say anything at first, having not expected him to bring this up. Until now they'd spend the week with the unspoken agreement not to argue about telling Carl, not wanting to drive themselves further into anger and frustration. Now though, given that Carl had settled into his punishment and was behaving himself admirably, perhaps Rick saw this as their opportunity. Regardless, she knew better than to get her hopes up, having learnt that he was hesitant and indecisive when it came to his son.

"As long as it's the right time," she said softly, wondering what else he would say.

"This week has been good for him…we even got to talking yesterday."

"What did he say?"

Rick paused the kisses he was pressing against her neck, a soft sigh passing his lips before he sat up and looked at her properly. "He's miserable…can't blame him for that. Between Noah's death, feeling like he's got no friends, all the drama with Pete and Jessie, now being grounded…it sucks to be him right now."

"Is it helping that Daryl's back?'

He nodded, pressing his lips to the top of her shoulder. "I won't let him go hunting at the moment, but yes, it helps that Daryl's back. It's one less thing for him to worry about."

The conversation comfortably lapsed, Rick lowering his lips back to her neck and eliciting the shivers of delight he so easily managed to create. As she felt his lips starting to press a little more firmly she squirmed away, not wanting him to leave a suspicious looking bruise on her neck for all to see. Instead she nudged him upwards, seeking out his lips with her own before kissing him properly. They indulged themselves, letting their hands roam one another as their former sense of peace began to return. Things were always so perfect when they were alone together, when the problems they faced could be shut out behind a locked door.

"You know" she murmured, her voice laced with enticement. "Michonne and Judy won't be home for another half hour."

"Oh. Is that right?"

She gently pushed at his hip to move him off of her, allowing her to get up and move on top of him. Straddling him now she grinned as she looked down at him, enjoying the expression of awe on his face. She loved the way he looked at her any given day, the love and affection he managed to express so easily despite the way the world had hardened his nature, but the way he looked at her now was something else entirely. He looked like a man who couldn't believe his luck, who was determined to appreciate every moment he got to spend with her. Without delay he ran his hands up each of her thighs to settle on the curve of her ass, unable to hide the satisfied smile that crossed his face.

"What do you think we can achieve in half an hour?"

He swiftly sat up and kissed her, his enthusiasm making her laugh with joy against his lips. They kissed leisurely as Rick's hands on her ass encouraged her to rock against him, a motion she made only too happily. It felt wonderful to press herself against him like that, his clenched jaw signalling that he too shared her enjoyment, but when he tried to make her lay back down on the bed she resisted. It was her turn now, her turn to drive him absolutely crazy, and she was going to take complete advantage of it. They kissed a little longer before she started peeling his hands off of her, a rare giggle escaping her throat when she batted him away as she got to her feet and left him laying there.

Enjoying the way his eyes followed her as she walked around the bed to the other night stand, she swayed her hips with each step and then turned her back to him. Unsurprisingly he had high regard for the tattoo on her ass, one that embarrassed her now that she was old enough to know better, and she knew that he would be looking at it now. As she opened her nightstand and tore a condom off the chain she looked at him over her shoulder, grinning when she indeed found his eyes on her ass.

"You done watching me yet?"

"Not by a mile." he shook his head, impatiently reaching for her when she returned to the bed.

When she returned to the bed he reached for her impatiently, his hands gently pushing at her hips to make her lay down beside him. Content to let him have his way for one brief moment, Carrie clutched the condom in her fist when he tried to take it from her. They grappled for it before he turned his attention elsewhere, running his hands down her torso before quickly following them with his lips and tongue. Determined to get her own way she settled back and remained impartial to what he was doing, and it took all her self-control to give no reaction when he laved his tongue in a circle around her navel. She knew what he was going to do, that any moment now he would gently tug on the piercing there, so when he did she was prepared. She resisted the shiver of delight, resisted the urge to push her hips up against him and instead stayed perfectly still. He soon looked up at her in exasperation, knowing that she was toying with him, determined to get her own way.

"Come on," he said huskily, trying to coax the condom from the palm of her hand. "Carrie, _Babe_ …"

She smirked, knowing that if he resorted to that name he knew he was fighting a losing battle. Of the two of them she would be able to hold out the longest, and she was right. Moments later Rick gave a soft groan and allowed his head to fall forward onto her lower stomach, his shoulders slumping a little as he gave up. He moved off of her and sat up on the other side of the bed, rolling his eyes when she excitedly bounced up onto her knees, opening the condom as she went.

"There's no need to gloat," he admonished her.

She kissed him hard as she rolled the condom onto his length and then straddled his lap, finding his hands and settling them on her hips before she was ready. Taking her time to get comfortable, particularly with her broken wrist, she brought him inside her and sank down into his lap, her heart rejoicing when she felt his hands on her hips squeezing tight. "You know I like being on top," was all she said.

"I like you being on top too," he admitted around clenched teeth. As he encouraged her to start moving he lowered his mouth to her breasts, taking full advantage of having her in his lap.

"Then why were you complaining?"

"Mmmm, because I'm stupid," he admitted, the twang of his accent more pronounced. "There's no blood left in my head."

Agreeing with him for the moment, she let his hands on her hips help her find their slow rhythm, and when she did she raised her hand to his face and prompted him to look up. Unable to resist the expression of awe on his face she leant down and sealed her lips around his, kissing him leisurely. Determined to leave him completely breathless and at her mercy she deepened the kiss, his hands tightening on her hips as she slid her tongue across his. She knew exactly what she was doing to him, just how much he enjoyed a thoroughly indecent kiss like this, the knowledge prompting her to keep going, to keep driving him crazy. A short while later he could resist the slow pace no more, his chest heaving as he tried to convince her to lay down, his growing urgency only boosting her ego.

Winding her hand into his curls she brought her lips back to his and kissed him again, her forehead resting against his when they broke for breath. She smiled when she recognised the look on his face, the one he didn't give to anyone else, one that spoke volumes to her. "I love you too," she murmured, knowing what he was thinking.

He smiled at her breathlessly, the crinkle of his eyes showing how happy he was right now. Just like she was, Rick too was revelling in the good moments, trying to avoid thinking about their petty arguments and the problems they'd been facing. They loved one another, that's what they were trying to focus on. Determined to see his eyes roll back Carrie resisted his every attempt to take control, grinning stupidly every time he tried. As wonderful as it was that he could bring her such incredible pleasure when they had sex, she wanted to do the same to him, and it wasn't often that they got the chance to have this long together. Knowing exactly how long they had up their sleeves she took her sweet time with him, both of them well rewarded for her efforts.

Her legs weak and body trembling, Carrie closed her eyes as she slowly slumped down against him, her lungs heaving for breath as his did the same. Completely exhausted and content to boot, she swallowed heavily and relaxed against him, sighing when she felt his arms reach up to wrap around her. Satiated, the couple lay in silence as they recovered, Carrie concentrating on the way Rick's chest rose and fell beneath her, on the way he pressed his lips to the crown of her head. Her mind was closed to anything external to him and herself, ignorant to the world outside that would eventually make itself known again. This was exactly what she needed right now, what they both needed. There was so much going on in their lives that they could barely keep up, the difficulties making them exchange more harsh words with one another more than they'd like to. But now? With nothing else in the world to bother them, the couple were completely at peace the way they needed to be. It was these moments that Carrie looked forward to, moments when she and Rick were simply together.

Having settled enough Carrie shrugged her shoulders and began to sit up, the movement enough to make him let go of her. Letting his softening erection slip out of her she slumped down beside him with a long sigh, the startling separation of their bodies abruptly bringing her back to reality. She was cold now. Rubbing her eyes she sat up and scrounged for the sheet at the bottom of the bed, wrestling it over Rick's left leg before looking at him over her shoulder. He lay completely lax exactly where they had laid down together, his hairline damp with sweat and the loose curls falling messily over his face. Softly warning him not to close his eyes she threw the sheet over him too, laying back down and getting comfortable together again.

"How was that for filling twenty minutes?" she enquired, proud of herself for the stupid look on his face. "Good?"

"Yes," he mumbled to himself, rubbing his hand over his face. "Yes…"

"You can stop shouting _yes_ now."

To her delight he gave a short laugh, a yawn escaping his lips before he looked at her in amusement. "Listen to you…all smug and proud of yourself."

"Don't I deserve to be?"

"Yeah, alright. You deserve to be a little smug," he admitted, the mattress bouncing as he reluctantly sat up on the edge of the bed and reached for the Kleenex on the nightstand.

She grinned, exceptionally proud of herself for the expression she managed to bring to his face, the loud shout that he couldn't seem to hold back. Turning onto her side she stroked his lower back, admiring his body every time she got the chance. "I'm calling it. I think today might be the best sex we've ever had. God, the thing you did earlier, with the…Rick?" she said when he didn't respond, surprising her with his silence. He sat with his back turned to her, an uncomfortable air about him. "What is it?"

There was a brief pause before he turned around to her, his expression having become noticeably more subdued. "The condom broke."

Carrie's heart leapt into her throat, her mind instantly going to denial. "No, it didn't," she said, swiftly sitting up. But there was no denying it, not when he showed her the evidence. "Oh…"

"It's all in one piece," he started to assure her. "It's just torn."

They fell silent as he grabbed some more Kleenex and then disposed of the condom into her trash, neither of them really knowing what to say. Her good mood having taken a sharp nose dive Carrie sat there in disbelief, trying to make her mind catch up to the situation. It wasn't as bad as it felt, that's what she told herself. Remembering the few other times the condom had broken before sex she glanced down at her fingernails, noting one on her left hand seemed a little rough along the edge. This wouldn't be the first time her fingernails had accidentally torn a condom.

"It's not your fault," she cut him off, realising he was apologising. "It was probably me. I'm the one who put it on…I should have paid more attention."

He looked at her fingernail when she showed to to him, and he gave a short nod of understanding. "It's not your fault either," he said kindly, putting his hand on her knee. "These things happen."

It was particularly understanding of him, especially given that he'd told her many a time before to cut her fingernails or let him handle the valuable contraception. There was an awkward pause as they looked at one another…they'd never faced this situation before, they'd never discovered a broken condom after having sex.

"Don't worry," she began, not wanting the silence to stretch on. "I'll see Pete. We've got emergency contraception, plenty of it."

He nodded in agreement, likely relieved that he hadn't needed to awkwardly make the suggestion himself. Looking at her in concern he tried to gauge what she was thinking. "Are you alright?"

"Yes," she said quickly, meaning it. "I'm alright. We can fix this, it's not a problem."

Though he nodded again he still seemed to be considering her very carefully, his expression apologetic as if it had been his fault. Not wanting their good afternoon ruined she quickly tried to change their tone, and so she eased his worries with a languid kiss. Instantly she felt him relaxing, the slight frown on his face easing.

"I think we need to change these sheets," she joked, gently pulling him down beside her as they kissed.

"No. We can just turn them inside out like socks. Good as new."

Carrie gasped in disgust, their moods instantly lifting at this remark. "Rick, please tell me you don't do that to your socks!"

"Would that be a deal breaker?"

"Yes!"

He chuckled in amusement, his stubble scraping her collarbone as he kissed the front of her shoulder. "I don't do it anymore, but out on the road, yeah. The concept works with underwear too."

Rolling her eyes, Carrie sighed as she wound her arms around him. He was right, for a certain amount of concessions had to be made during life on the road, but must he really bring that up now? "Men are gross."

"You haven't seen the half of it," he teased, his fingers caressing her belly now. "Burping, farts…that boil that keeps comin' up on Daryl's ass."

She burst into laughter at this, playfully shoving him away as the sound of a child crying reached her ears. "Don't make me think about another man's ass boil!"

Enjoying her playfulness Rick caught her around the middle as she tried to get up, giving a long sigh as he pressed his lips between her shoulder blades. "Stay…just a little longer."

"We can't."

"Yes, we can."

"Michonne and Judy are home," she reminded him.

"I hear them."

"Well from the sound of it someone needs a cuddle from her daddy, and you're going to need pants for that." She pried his hands from around her waist and then got up, kissing his fingers in apology before hunting around for their clothes. "Come on!" she said, hastening him when he made no effort.

With great reluctance Rick got to his feet, bolstered by the sound of Judith's crying beginning to escalate. It was unusual for her to cry, but quite recently she had begun finding a way with tears, having figured out that it occasionally garnered sympathy from those who didn't know better. As they dressed she glanced at Rick, thinking about his determination to protect his children from the truth about Lori's mistake. Though he claimed he truly didn't know who Judith's father was, Carrie couldn't help but see similarities between Rick and Judith. They both had curly hair, big blue eyes that could melt an ice berg…their personalities were similar too. Judith was content and happy for the most part, but when something annoyed or upset her she went off like a firecracker…Rick was the same.

Were these similarities indicative of her parentage, or was Carrie seeing them because she wanted to?

"Carrie," Rick began, the two of them now fully dressed and stripping the sheets off her bed. "If something ever did happen, we would be okay."

She frowned at him, and it took her a moment to understand that he was referring to the broken condom. "Something is not going to happen," she said firmly.

Though he nodded it was clear he wasn't satisfied with the too brief discussion. "I'm just saying, if it did-"

"One more cycle of my period, and then I'm starting birth control," she reminded him. "I am like a German train schedule with my birth control. Trust me, it won't be a problem."

"I'm just saying, we would handle it."

"Yes," she agreed. "Like we're handling it now. I'm getting a contraceptive, problem solved."

Rick sighed, the expression on his face indicating that he understood her reluctance to talk about this. Despite this it seemed he wasn't going to let the conversation lapse. "Carrie…I've already got two children who were unplanned, happy accidents. Thi-"

"And I won't be giving you a third."

He sighed again, biting his tongue for a moment. "This is a conversation we should be able to have."

She too bit her tongue, resisting the urge to repeat herself. It was clear to her what he was doing, that he was trying to be a responsible partner by wanting to be prepared for the possibility, but despite his responsibility in the matter it wasn't something she anticipated being a problem. She'd only ever missed a birth control pill once, and she had learned from that the hard way…it wasn't going to happen again.

"Let's talk about it some other time," she finally said, though she had no intention of it. Nevertheless it would placate him for now. She began bundling the sheets and pillowcases, watching him as he rounded the bed towards her.

"We _should_ talk about it," he agreed, brushing his hand over her lower back before reaching for the door knob.

He opened the door and then stood back, letting her through first, ever the gentleman. They shared one last kiss at the top of the stairs, his hand on her shoulder as he drew it out a little longer, not wanting to go back to reality. As the sound of Judith crying grew even louder Carrie pulled away, swiftly kissing him on the cheek before descending the stairs. They briefly parted ways, she heading into the laundry to put her sheets into the washing machine, Rick heading into the kitchen to tend to his daughter.

"Guess who didn't want to stop playing hide and seek with Olivia?" Michonne greeted him, explaining Judith's crying.

Pleased to see that Carol didn't have any laundry in progress, Carrie stuffed the sheets into the washing machine and then added some detergent, clearly remembering a time when she had no idea how to complete such a simple task. Doing laundry was been a life skill not imparted upon her during childhood or her adult life, the extra zeros in her bank account making the skill unnecessary. The first time she had ever used a washing machine was on the Georgia supply run, when they'd stopped at the underground bunker to scavenge supplies and lay low for the night. Somehow the task had fallen to her, and she was ever so grateful to Aaron for not mocking her when she asked for help. As the machine spurred to life and began filling with water Carrie smiled to herself in satisfaction, pleased that she confidently knew how to operate a machine.

When she came out into the living area she had to smile, her heart warming as she compared the life she used to live to the one she had now. The world had gone, her parents and ex in-laws were surely dead, and she'd been left with nothing but the expensive clothes and jewellery she had on…but she had so much more now. Money could not buy the people who had become the family she had now, money could not buy the familial rapport that had developed so easily amongst them. Michonne and Rick talked as they bustled around the kitchen, completely unaware of how content and happy they seemed in one another's company. It was a feeling Carrie too had developed with her new group, one she considered her family now, but it was always nice to see it being played out among the others too.

"She's not been herself for a few hours now," Michonne remarked, gesturing to Judith who had her head resting against Rick's chest. In her hands she was shaking a small bottle of baby formula, readying it for Judith's impending nap.

"In what way?"

"I think she's coming down with that stomach flu. She's been grumpy, wouldn't eat her lunch…she was only happy when Olivia played with her. Otherwise, she was Miss Crabby."

Rick nodded, sharing a brief smile with Carrie as she came into the living area. Moments later he gently pressed his hand to Judith's lower stomach, kissing her on the crown of the head as he did so. "Did she poop for you?"

"No."

"She didn't poop this morning. Either she's constipated, or she's getting ready to unleash some diaper gravy."

Carrie groaned, her stomach turning at this crude joke. "Rick, that's gross," she scolded him.

He just shrugged without concern, lifting Judith up and then pulling back the edge of her diaper to check inside. Leaving her be he started rubbing her back as she whimpered, more tears springing from her eyes as she sucked her thumb.

"On that note, I'm heading out," Carrie declared, giving Rick a pointed look to remind him that she was going to the Infirmary.

"Oh, wait," Michonne said hastily, following her to the door where she was collecting her Ruger. "I'm sorry, but I think Olivia and I messed up the Inventory spreadsheet."

Narrowing her eyes at her, Carrie felt her hackles raising. "I hope for your sake that you're mistaken."

"We moved some rows and columns to make room for something else, and then all the graphs and charts in the other sheet went a bit…funny."

Carrie gasped. "No, not my charts," she moaned. "You don't know how to use a spreadsheet?"

"I studied Modern Art in college. That doesn't require intimate knowledge of spreadsheets."

"You better pray I can fix this," she warned, though she relented a little following her explanation. Slipping her Ruger into the holster on her left leg she closed the door, catching a glimpse of Rick's amused expression as she went. "You owe me cocktails. Tomorrow night."

"Deal."

"Carrie," Rick called out to her, hastening to join catch her before she left. She waited for him out on the porch, looking at Judith in sympathy. The moment Rick stopped rubbing her back she started whining again, her lower lip beginning to tremble. "You're going to see Pete?" he asked quietly, waiting until Michonne had gone back into the kitchen.

"Yeah."

"Wait for me," he requested. "I'll put her down for her nap, and I'll come with you."

She considered his offer for a moment, appreciating his willingness to go with her, that they both take responsibility for securing contraception, but she shook her head. "I don't think that would be a good idea. You being there would just make things more awkward."

"Yeah, but…" he started, hesitating. "I feel like I ought to come with you."

She shook her head again. "I can handle Pete," she assured him. "Besides, you should to stay in with Judy. Michonne needs to get some sleep before she has the night shift on watch."

Still Rick seemed unsatisfied, uncomfortable with the notion that she would be going to see Pete on her own. Was it because he didn't trust Pete, or because he was determined to share the responsibility of contraception? Either way it didn't matter to her, for she had no qualms about either.

"You should stay in with Judy," she insisted, touching her hand to his arm. She wanted to lean in and kiss him, for the touch of their lips to serve as reassurance, but out on the porch they were in full view. They could take no risks in having rumours start spreading before they could tell Carl.

"Okay," he agreed, albeit reluctantly. "If that's what you want."

"It is."

"You'll be home soon, then?"

"Yes. Straight there and back."

"Good," he nodded, sighing in exasperation as he was forced to start bouncing Judith a little. "Carl should be home about four thirty. By the time he cleans up it'll be five o'clock…we'll all be home, together."

Carrie didn't say anything at first, unsure of how to reply. "Okay," she finally said, though she wasn't holding her breath that the conversation would actually go ahead.

Rick seemed to pick up on her thoughts, recognising that she wasn't holding her breath, but he didn't say anything more. As Judith gave a particularly unhappy whine that was followed by a burst of tears he was forced to turn his attention back to her, and he reluctantly farewelled Carrie and let her go to the Infirmary alone. Hoping to get it all over and done with she walked quickly as she made her way to the Infirmary, though at the last minute she diverted her course. Barbara and her son Conner were departing by the front door, a large dressing on his lower leg indicating that he had hurt himself. Though she knew she didn't have to hide the fact she was visiting the Infirmary, Carrie felt a sudden bout of nerves at the thought that Barbara might see her. She had no qualms about asking for emergency contraception, it wasn't something she was ashamed of, but that didn't mean she wanted Barbara to see her going there. She would have no context for Carrie's visit there, but she was somewhat of a gossip.

Instead she went to the Pantry first, needing to double check exactly what had happened to the charts in her spreadsheet. Olivia didn't seem to be around, and so Carrie let herself into the Pantry for the first time in weeks, but what she found there took her by surprise. Admittedly it had been a while since her last visit, for following the deaths of Aidan and Noah she hadn't been concerning herself with supply runs, but she was shocked to see the state of the shelves. The supply run to Georgia had made them abundant in food supplies, and since then the empty spots on the shelves were immediately filled by their excess stock in the other garage…but today there were empty spots, blank spaces on the shelves. Given it was her main role Olivia typically had blank spaces filled quite quickly, but not today. Was she just taking a day off? Was she like so many others not feeling her best today? Or was there nothing left of their excess supplies to restock the shelves?

Her worry growing, Carrie concerned herself only with what she could learn immediately. She took the laptop from Olivia's desk and slipped it into a bag, leaving her a note that indicated it's whereabouts. It wasn't unusual for her to take the laptop and work on things at home, particularly given Olivia's tendency to keep track of things by hand. While Olivia kept written notes, Carrie transcribed them into the spreadsheet, turning the data into graphs and charts before making future projections about how long things would last. This was what she would concern herself with today. She didn't have the key to the garage where they kept the excess supplies, but she could read the Inventory record and see exactly what was going on.

Slinging the bag over her shoulder she departed the Pantry, her mind racing through the number of possibilities that would explain the blank spaces on the shelves. It was possible that Olivia was just tightening the ration schedule, that by putting less on the shelves she was discouraging residents from asking for more. Trying to put it out of her mind, Carrie made her way to the Infirmary now, reassured when she saw Barbara and Conner heading home. Though Pete was particularly unpleasant right now, he was playing the only card he had left in his deck…the fact that he was a doctor. For the moment at least, Pete was going out of his way to prove how much he was needed in the community, to win favour with people like Deanna so that he could eventually worm his way back into Jessie's life.

It was Eric and Gordon who she found on watch outside the Infirmary, a necessary precaution to ensure that Pete was behaving himself, and that Ron wasn't caught trying to sneak in beer for him. If he was determined enough Pete could easily sneak past his guard, for the Infirmary of course had more than one exit, but with a clear view of Jessie's house and the streets, the lone guard was sufficient. It was at night which they were most concerned about him, necessitating that they lock him into the main bedroom and release him the following morning. It was difficult enough covering two watch stations for the night shift, let alone another night shift guarding Pete. For now the measures were working, and despite the sensitive nature of why she was visiting the Infirmary, Carrie knew that Eric wasn't a gossip, and nor would he try to eavesdrop.

Pausing to make some small talk with them, Carrie subtly evaluated Gordon, hoping that he was settling into Alexandria well. She'd heard about his difficult first night, about how Rick had been forced to postpone his interview until the following morning because he was in such shock. Being in his early sixties and living on the road had taken its toll on him, and he was gratefully employing the use of a walking cane while he recovered, and he looked a damn sight better than when he had first arrived. In just a few days his gaunt face had recovered a little volume, his hair cut and beard shaved…despite the physical changes, Carrie understood all too well how far he had to go before he properly integrated into life in Alexandria.

She talked with them for a minute or so before politely excusing herself to go inside. Seeing that the blind on the Infirmary's front door was raised she opened the door and let herself in, knowing that it indicated that no other patients were being seen to. Bracing herself to make her request she called out to Pete, and then found him sitting in the Lazy Boy armchair by the window. She could see the flash of annoyance on his face when he saw her, but he quickly recovered and then put on his usual professional manner. It surprised her to see how easily he could do that, and his demeanour reminded her of how charming he had been the very first time she'd been to see him upon her arrival in Alexandria. She supposed that he was well trained in bed side manner and professionalism, but it was still startling to see how quickly his demeanour changed.

"Carrie," he greeted her warmly, setting aside the laptop he had been using as he got up to meet her. "Is everything alright?"

"Yeah, I'm okay," she replied, closing the door behind herself and coming on properly. "I err…I just need an emergency contraceptive." She smiled nervously, feeling more awkward to ask for that than she had expected.

To her surprise, Pete raised his eyebrows and folded his arms, casually leaning against his desk as he looked at her. "Really?"

"Yeah…you know, Plan B, Next Step."

"I know the brands," he nodded.

There was a long silence, and Carrie felt her heart beat began to quicken a little. This was more uncomfortable than she had expected, and she started to wish she had allowed Rick to come with her after all. But as she looked at Pete and waited for him to say something, she slowly realised that her request for contraception was not what was causing her to feel uncomfortable…it was Pete.

"So, what happened?" he asked. His tone was nothing other than polite, but this did not ease Carrie's discomfort. When she didn't answer quickly enough, Pete answered for her. "Did you get caught up in the heat of the moment? You forget the condom?"

"Actually, it broke."

He let out a low whistle and then nodded. "When?"

It was a fair question for him to ask, and so she answered it. "Twenty minutes ago."

"Wow," he said, sounding inappropriately impressed. "A late nooner? Good for him."

There was no doubt he was referring to Rick, and that he was simultaneously belittling her. Feeling herself beginning to feel a little off put she cleared her throat and then stood her ground, unwilling to let Pete bully her. She squared her shoulders and then stood up straight, never breaking eye contact. Never in her life had she let a man bully her like this, she wasn't going to start now.

She cleared her throat expectantly. "Is there a problem?"

"No, of course not," he shook his head. "So, broken condom, huh? Was it all in one piece? Nothing left inside?"

"It was in one piece, we checked."

"And your partner definitely ejaculated during intercourse?"

Carrie grit her teeth, knowing that Pete was trying to get a rise out of her…she'd been wrong. Rick was definitely justified in his mistrust of the community's doctor. "Yes," she answered.

Pete smiled. "Good for him," he remarked, continuing before Carrie could even comprehend what he had said. "When was the first day of your last period?"

Still gritting her teeth, Carrie refused to let him bother her. "About four weeks ago."

"And your expecting your next to start…"

"Any day now."

"Are you taking any medications at the moment?"

"You're my doctor, you know that I'm not."

"Just being thorough," he smiled. "You never know, you could be seeing two doctors."

Turning away from her he went to his book shelf and removed a tall, thin book. He began flicking through it, and though he stopped at a few pages Carrie could tell he wasn't reading. This was a performance, it was just for show…he was toying with her. Not letting him get to her she tried to wait patiently, but when a minute passed in silence she cleared her throat again.

"Sorry," he apologised politely, beginning to speak as he closed the book and returned it to the shelf. "To be honest, Carrie, I think you'll be fine."

"Sorry?"

"You haven't menstruated regularly for well over a year now, and you're not in the peak fertility stage of your cycle. Your chances of an unplanned pregnancy are quite low."

" _Quite low_ is not good enough for me," she said solidly, crossing her arms over her chest. "I want emergency contraception. Please."

"You don't need it," he insisted, giving her that charmingly sweet smile as he walked past her. To her absolute disbelief, he headed into the kitchen and poured himself a cup of coffee. "Want one?" he asked, holding up the coffee pot.

"No. I want what I came for. Plan B, Next Step, Ell-"

"You can list all the brand names you can think of, but it won't change a thing," Pete told her, taking a sip of his coffee with a long groan.

"I don-"

"We don't have any."

This remark almost rendered her speechless, and she looked at him in surprise. It took a few moments for her brain to catch up, to get past the horrifying news that they didn't have what she needed. "That's not true," she rebuked him. "We have plenty."

"No, we-"

"We have plenty," she repeated, raising her voice and coming forward now. "I brought in half of them myself!"

Pete nodded. "Yeah, you did. But they're no good."

"Bull shit! They're all within their use by date, and they were all sealed."

"I don't know what to tell you?" he shrugged apologetically, taking his coffee and resuming his seat in the armchair. "We don't have anything I can give you, not even the generic brands."

Stunned that he would even try pulling this shit on her, she watched as he simply reclined his chair and pulled his laptop into his lap, fumbling around with the cord on his head phones. He was being completely nonchalant about the fact he was trying to refuse her medical treatment that she needed, that she had the right to…how the hell did he think he'd get away with it? Had the separation from Jessie rendered him completely stupid?

"So what do you have for me?" she challenged, curious as to his answer.

Pete sighed, rubbing his forehead as though she was a significant bother. "If you absolutely insist on intervention…I could give you a copper intrauterine device. That can be used as an emergency contraceptive. I can get you legs up right away if you want."

"No," she replied. There was no way in hell he was touching her, doctor or not. "What else?"

Shrugging unconcerned, Pete put his headphones on and looked at her. "Well, unless you want a back yard abortion in a few weeks, there's not a lot I can do for you."

Despite her attempt to not let him get to her Carrie stood paralysed in disbelief, not knowing what to do now…had he really just said that to her? She didn't know what to say, what to do, what to think…she was stunned. With no regard for what he had just said to her Pete tapped a few keys on his laptop and then settled back into the armchair, resuming the movie he had been watching upon her arrival. As though she wasn't even there Pete paid her no attention as he watched the movie, not even looking up when she began to leave.

A rush of emotions hit her hard, and she just managed to keep her expression plain until she'd passed Eric and Gordon and then reached the street. Trying not to look as though she was fleeing, she bowed her head as she walked home, trying to steady her breaths as she tried to think about what she'd tell Rick. He was going to lose it when she told him the things Pete had said to her, his refusal to give her contraception, the horrific suggestion he had just made. Pete had no idea what hellfire was about to rain down on him, for she knew already that Rick would not let this go, that he'd be furious. Rick was right, he ought to have gone with her.

She slowed to a stop as she reached the intersection, her muddled thoughts beginning to align. Suddenly it all made sense, it was crystal clear. Pete wasn't dumb enough to treat her so poorly and expect to get away with it. He had no expectation of getting away with it…he was trying to pick a fight. By treating Rick's girlfriend like shit, he was provoking him into a righteous response. As this became clear to her Carrie whirled around and looked back to the Infirmary, not at all surprised to see that Pete had abandoned his computer and was now out on the deck that overlooked the lake. He stood there leaning against the railing, drinking his coffee without a care in the world. In a bold move, he actually gave her a friendly wave before he took a sip from his mug.

She understood now. What Rick had told her about Pete's grudge wasn't an exaggeration, it wasn't him being overprotective of his children. Pete was on a personal vendetta, one that started well over a month ago with the Wolf that had died. It had been Rick's call that he not be saved, and Pete's reaction had been an aggressive confrontation, one which Rick refused to stand down to. Since then he'd threatened to expose the truth about Carrie and Judith to Carl, and the guns he had stolen? If Pete wanted guns so badly he could have stolen them from the armoury, he had the code after all. But instead he took the risk of stealing them from Rick, of manipulating his son into helping him…it was a personal attack, and so was the way he had just treated Carrie.

Trying to figure out what to do, she hesitated in the middle of the street, still looking at Pete. Now that he had upset her he was expecting her to go to Rick, to get him involved, and that had been her first thought. But with understanding came determination…Pete was trying to get at Rick. He wanted Rick involved, he wanted another opportunity to fuck with him, but she wasn't going to let that happen. She wouldn't play into his hands, she wouldn't let him get at Rick.

She had to handle this herself…Rick could not be involved.

Knowing exactly what she needed to do, Carrie turned on her heel and marched back towards the Infirmary, enjoying the way Pete watched her in surprise. He hadn't been expecting this, that much she knew. By the time she reached the Infirmary he was there opening the front door, but she strode right past, returning the polite wave he had given her moments ago. The confused look on his face quickly turned to worry, and she saw the moment he realised his plan was backfiring, that she wasn't going to Rick for help, but someone else.

Resolved in her decision, Carrie forced herself to keep her emotions in check, reassuring herself that she was handling this. Pete was trying to use her to fuck with Rick? He was going to regret that very soon.

Being familiar enough with those who lived there, for Carrie was friends with everyone in some shape or form, she let herself into the shared townhouse, smiling and greeting those who were in the living room. She cast her eyes around for one person in particular, but when she didn't find them she went upstairs in search of them, knowing she'd likely find them reading War and Peace for the hundredth time. The bedroom door was open, but she knocked on it politely to get the attention of the person sitting on the bed…she was right, they were reading War and Peace.

"Denise? I need your help with something."

* * *

A/N - How great was that 7x01! It's been four days and still my head is all over the place! My mind is abuzz with awesome storylines, and I simply cannot wait for the rest of the season. Hope you guys loved it too!


	39. Chapter 39

A/N Sorry about the slight delay to this week's chapter. This was pretty much a 'tear down and rebuild at the last possible minute' kind of chapter, so please forgive any mistakes that I haven't yet picked up. Thanks.

* * *

It had taken Rick forty minutes to get Judith down for her afternoon nap, his little girl frustrated and desperate for him to keep holding her, seeking comfort from him while she was feeling unwell. He'd been forced to settle into the rocking chair with her against his chest, trying to comfort her as she whimpered and cried intermittently. Her eyes stayed wide open despite it being past her nap time, and as he waited for them to slowly close he kept checking her diaper, fully prepared for the sudden influx of vomit or poop that would relieve her discomfort. Despite her troubles Rick wasn't overly concerned, having become well adept at handling a stomach flu in small children, and he certainly wasn't going to seek Pete's help unless he genuinely felt the need to.

As they sat there in the rocking chair Rick kept looking at his watch, wondering when Carrie was going to come home. She'd assured him she would only be gone a short while, and though he never concerned himself with where she went every day, this afternoon he worried for her. He disliked her insistence that she go to see Pete on her own, for although the shamed doctor had been on his best behaviour all week, Rick still didn't trust him. Still he tried his best not to worry about her, wondering if perhaps she had gone to the Pantry. Michonne had mentioned that there was a problem with the Inventory spreadsheets, a problem that had been quite unwelcome. That was probably where she was.

Though his instinct was to go looking for her, Rick opted not to. Not only did he need to stay at home with a child who was likely sick, Carrie wouldn't take well to him checking up on her, to him fussing or asking where she had been. So when he finally managed to lay Judith into her crib he forced himself to stay at home, to start preparing some of the fresh vegetables that had been rationed for their household. The gardens were abundant and ready for harvest, but with over sixty people to feed the rations of fresh produce were still limited. Needing to spend the day with Natalie who was also unwell, Carol had left clear instructions for preparing the evening meal, and so it was with that he occupied himself.

It seemed his troubles were not over, for barely fifteen after going to sleep Judith was awake again, her unhappy wails indicating that all was not well. When he got to their shared bedroom Rick had to agree with the latter, having been immediately greeted by the sight and smell he had anticipated. Like many others in the community Judith too had come down with a stomach flu, her soiled crib and tearful cries indicating the extent of her discomfort. An expert in dealing with this type of thing, and remembering what Lori used to do with Carl, he bundled her up within the soiled sheets and swept her into their bathroom. A bath would not do, and so he turned on the shower and stripped Judith of her clothes and diaper, trying his best to offer comfort as he himself tried not to start retching.

It was during this that Carrie finally came home, her shirt pulled up over her face as she tentatively made her way into the ensuite. Judith had stood under the running water for fifteen minutes now, alternating between vomiting and pooping while she looked at Rick in despair, as if asking him what was happening to her. He too was wet and covered in something he didn't want to look at, and he couldn't help but feel annoyed with Carrie's poor timing.

"I opened the windows in the bedroom for you," she said, half her face covered with her shirt as she came closer so that he could hear her over the running water. "Is she going to be okay?"

"She'll be fine once it passes," he assured her, sighing in exasperation as Judith tried to cuddle him, needing his touch. As she started crying again he relented, unable to deny her the comfort she needed from him. "You took a while."

Carrie took a moment to reply, her eyes focused on the soiled sheets and clothing that sat in the corner of the double shower stall. "I went to see Denise." She cleared her throat, her shoulders shuddering as she looked away from the sheets. "I got what I needed, everything's taken care of."

"No problems?"

She shook her head. "No."

"Good. I'm glad you went to Denise, not Pete."

"Why's that?" she asked casually.

"I didn't like the idea of you seeing him by yourself."

Carrie laughed to herself. "You think I can't handle Pete?"

"I know you can," he assured her, swiftly moving Judith back under the water when he felt warmth on his knee. She cried in protest but he made her stay there, cringing as he swept poop off his jeans. "I just didn't want you to have to handle him. Things with him are bad enough at the moment."

"Yeah," Carrie agreed lowly.

Hearing the tone of her voice Rick turned and looked at her. "Is everything okay?"

"Yeah," she answered, her features brightening the moment he asked the question.

Looking at her properly he took notice of her closed body language, the tinge of pink he could see on the top of her cheeks. "You seem upset," he said perceptively.

She raised her eyebrows at this. "No."

"It's how you seem."

She sighed now, her shoulders slumping as she gestured to Judith. "Well I'm not exactly a fan of the circus of bodily fluids you got going on in here."

He chuckled in amusement, remembering her aversion to vomit. She could handle almost any bodily fluid, the stench and touch of Walkers not bothering her any more, but the smell of vomit turned her stomach. "Oh, you don't want to get in on this family life?" he joked, gesturing to Judith.

"Uhh, not _that_ family life, no."

"Do you have the time?" he enquired, having removed his watch.

"Three forty five."

Though he hid his concern for her, it was still there. She'd been gone for over an hour to get a contraceptive pill…perhaps they got to talking.

"You're hanging around?" he confirmed, thinking about Carl who would be home shortly.

Carrie nodded, still not daring to lower her shirt from her face. "I've got watch at six o'clock, but I'm home until then."

He turned back to Judith when she started hiccuping, and he held her steady in anticipation of what was coming next. Still horrified with what was happening to her body she looked at him as she puked again, her shoulders sagging in relief. While Rick cringed as his clothing was once again soiled Carrie moaned in disgust, automatically backing out of the ensuite.

"He'll be home at four thirty," he reminded her, trying to catch her before she fled.

"Yeah, sure," she said quickly, her eyes watering as she looked down at the floor, still backing out. "Whatever works…"

With that she turned and fled, Rick laughing in amusement to see the way her shoulders tensed, still holding her shirt over her mouth. He turned back to his daughter now, relieved to see her expression of despair was fading into one of exhaustion. The worst of it had passed, for now at least. Twenty minutes later they were both cleaned up, Rick planning ahead and choosing old clothing for the both of them, knowing better than to hope her symptoms were completely over. Forced to set aside any plans for preparing dinner he gave Judith a plain cracker, hoping the dry food would help quell her uneasy stomach. Still not feeling good she refused to sit in her high chair, her fingers clinging to his tee-shirt as she started wailing again. Conscious of Michonne was who trying to sleep Rick relented, taking a seat on the couch and letting Judith sit in his lap to eat. She ate very slowly, sniffling as she chewed on the cracker and sipped at her water, but she seemed, content for now.

Unable to do anything else, Rick waited for the time to pass, the hands on his watch slowly inching towards four thirty. Carl returned home right on schedule, not wanting to spend a minute more than necessary working at the gruelling task of cleaning out gutters. Wearily kicking off his boots he came inside, giving a heavy sigh and looking into the kitchen hopefully, disappointed to see that dinner wasn't yet being prepared.

"Go take a shower," Rick instructed him, seeing his state of filth. It appeared he had been working hard, and perhaps had some mishaps with the muck he was cleaning from the gutters. "Use Daryl's bathroom, he won't mind."

"What's wrong with ours?" Carl grumbled, trudging through the house.

"Your sister's got the stomach flu, the bathroom's a mess."

"Great…another bathroom for me to clean."

"If you cut the attitude, _I_ will clean it," Rick said through gritted teeth, this having been his intention all along.

With a short apology Carl headed off for the downstairs bathroom, rolling his shoulders back to stretch his sore muscles. As Rick watched him go he felt badly for the amount of hard labour he was enduring, though he had to stick by the punishment he had imposed. When he wasn't much older than Carl, Rick too had been subjected to the same punishment from his own father, a harsh penance for the same crime of deceit. It had worked on him, and it would work on Carl too…at the very least he'd second guess himself should he ever consider lying to him again.

Ignore his own hypocrisy, Rick consulted his watch and glanced towards the front door, wondering where Carrie was. He'd looked for her upstairs when he and Judith emerged from the master bedroom, but she was no where to be found anywhere. She knew their plans for that afternoon, she knew that Carl was coming home at a certain time and that Rick wanted to tell him promptly…so where the hell was she? Part of him wanted to go out and start looking for her, to roam the streets in search, but he knew better than to risk it. Judith was in no condition to be very far away from home…he'd only be inviting disaster by taking her too far from a bathroom.

"What are we eating?" Carl asked a short while later, coming out fully dressed, his damp hair slicked back.

Rick watched him for a moment, pleased to see his son's hair pushed off his face and out of his eyes for once. If Lori could see him these days she'd be on him with a pair of scissors so fast. "Pasta and vegetables. There're some carrots and potatoes up there, you can finish them. After that you can empty the dishwasher, and collect the trash from all the houses."

"All of them?" he sighed.

"If you start complainin', then you can do the compost too. Or you can sit here with Typhoid Mary," he suggested, gesturing to Judith who was sucking her thumb, struggling to stay awake. "Make your pick."

Looking up at this, Carl seemed to carefully weigh his options. "Nah, I'm cool here," he agreed, not wanting to risk getting sick himself. "Who's Typhoid Mary?"

Sighing, Rick kissed the top of Judith's head and passed her cup, encouraging her to have another sip. "I can't believe I wasn't going to make him go to school," he muttered under his breath before beginning to explain.

Sooner than he expected Judith closed her eyes and went to sleep, her half eaten cracker still clutched in her hand until he removed it. Not daring to get up and risk rousing her he summoned some patience, reminding himself that it was alright to sit and do nothing on occasion. It was a compromise he had to make, though with the lazy way he and Carrie had spent the afternoon he felt particularly lazy that day. Nevertheless today was calling for it, and with the knowledge that he and Carrie would soon be telling Carl, Rick knew he would have to spend the evening at home. Daryl was already scheduled to take the evening rounds with Abraham, and with Michonne sleeping, Carrie on watch and Carol elsewhere, tonight Rick was the one in charge of putting Judith to bed.

Impatiently waiting for Carrie's return home Rick routinely checked his watch, his impatience growing with every minute that ran past five o'clock. Just as he was starting to get annoyed with her he heard the sound of footsteps, though his relief waned when he heard someone knock on the open door. Carrie wouldn't knock, and so it had to be someone outside their family, some interrupting the solitude Rick needed to maintain. When he heard Carl heading to the door Rick didn't get up, but Carl made it only halfway before stopping.

"Dad," Carl said quietly. "It's Ron…and Pete."

It took Rick a moment to react, the sudden arrival taking him completely by surprise. He hastened to his feet with Judith still in his arms, and he glanced at Carl who stood by the kitchen bench before turning to the front door. It was wide open, their efforts to tempt a breeze into their home, and indeed Ron Anderson was standing out on the porch. He looked a little nervous, his beanie pulled low over his forehead as his hands fidgeted, but it wasn't him Rick was most concerned about. Standing out on the middle of the road was Pete, guarded by Eric and Gordon who stood at a distance, but still out there nonetheless. He stood with his arms folded and his expression stern, and he looked at his son expectantly. Before Ron could say anything Rick turned around to his own son.

"Go upstairs."

Carl's lips parted in protest. "Dad…"

"What did I just say?"

There was a brief pause before Carl did as he was told, and Rick was pleased to see that he ignored the sheepish smile and wave that Ron gave. Though he followed his instructions and went upstairs he took his sweet time about it, hastening only when Rick glared at him pointedly. In his arms Judith began wriggling, a short grunt indicating that he had awoken her with his sudden movement. When Carl was gone he turned back to the front door where Ron was waiting, briefly casting his eyes over Pete out on the street.

"Ron," he began, lowering his voice and softening his tone. "Is everything alright?"

Ron glanced over his shoulder at Pete, and when he received a nod of encouragement he turned back to Rick, his hands still fidgeting nervously. "Yeah, everything's fine Mr Grimes. Actually, I err…I want to apologise to you."

Rick raised an eyebrow at this, feeling rather skeptical. "Apologise for what?"

"For how I behaved last week. You know, when everything happened with you and my dad. My behaviour was…inappropriate."

Though he listened carefully, Rick couldn't help but feel that Ron's words sounded rehearsed, like he had practiced his apology more than a few times. But then again, a rehearsed apology from a fifteen year old wasn't anything to be suspicious of. The idea of apologising to an adult he didn't know wasn't likely something Ron was comfortable with.

"You were very upset last week," Rick acknowledged, having not blamed Ron for his behaviour, for the way Pete had manipulated him for so long.

Ron nodded now, his jaw flexing as he reached up and touched his beanie, readjusting it. Again he looked over his shoulder at Pete before continuing. "Dad and I have been talking a lot lately, err…and I'm going back home with Mom for a couple of days. I already apologised to her, and Dad told me I should apologise to you too. You know, for being an asshole, and for being an asshole to Carl. I'm really sorry, Mr Grimes."

As he listened to Ron's apology Rick was looking out at Pete, trying to gauge what was going on here, if there was something else at play. Aside from some minor instances involving Ron, Pete had been on his best behaviour all week. He'd been cooperative with his guards, obliging when he was locked into his new bedroom at night and released the following morning. He hadn't tried to contact Jessie, he'd left Sam alone long enough for him to come and visit him on his own terms…now he was having Ron make amends? Rick didn't know what to make of that, he didn't know quite what to think. As Ron made his apology Pete waited patiently out on the street, for all intents and purposes looking like any other father who had compelled their son to make amends.

"Thank you, Ron. I accept your apology," Rick said, seeing no other acceptable response. He couldn't be the man who refused a teenager's genuine apology…and that's what it seemed like. Genuine.

Appearing to breathe a small sigh of relief, Ron nodded gratefully. He turned and looked at Pete with a short nod, and when he received one back in return he continued. "If it's okay, I'd like to apologise to Carl too. I've been a really big asshole to him…like, really big."

"Oh? How so?" Rick enquired, wanting to hear Ron tell him word for word.

His tensed slumped uncomfortably, but he answered. "I was trying to pick on him at school…I made Mikey do the same. We were calling him names like _mom killer_ and Jack…"

"Jack?"

"Jack the Ripper," he explained, his tone downcast and ashamed.

"Anything else?"

He nodded. "We were making fun of him for being grounded, we threw mud at windows he'd been cleaning. I put a dead possum in his backpack…I think it grossed me out more than him though."

Rick raised his eyebrows, silently commending Ron for his attempt to be creative with his bullying. "Anything else?"

Finally Ron shook his head. "No, that's about it…"

Considering him, Rick once again glanced up at Pete. His expectant stance hadn't changed, and he continued looking at his son as he waited. Rick still didn't quite know what to make of all this…Ron was here to make amends with both he and Carl, supposedly at the encouragement of his father. He was going home to Jessie tonight…that in itself was a huge step, one that Ron wouldn't do without Pete's insistence.

"It sounds like you owe Carl a very big apology."

Ron nodded. "Yeah, I do."

Telling him to wait there, Rick readjusted Judith in his arms and headed back inside, going to the staircase and looking up. Just as he expected he could hear the sound of retreating feet, having suspected that Carl would be at the top of the stairs trying to eavesdrop.

"Carl, come down please." He waited expectantly, sensing both Carl's hesitation and curiosity when he emerged and began descending the stairs. "Ron wants to talk to you."

"About what?" he asked, looking at Ron warily as they approached the door.

"He's apologising to you."

As Carl stepped outside Rick caught the door as he tried to close it, giving him a look that clearly told him to leave it open. Though he moved into the kitchen on the pretence of giving Carl some privacy, he shushed Judith when she began fussing again, rubbing her back as he listened in on the conversation that was happening outside. Just like he had with Rick, Ron was apologising to Carl, his tone sincere and his well considered words sounding rehearsed.

"…I've been talking to my dad too…he reckons I'm being pretty out of line lately. None of this is your fault, I know that. It's just been hard right now, but you didn't deserve me being such a jerk. I'm really sorry, Carl."

There was a short pause, but Carl responded. "Your dad told you to come and apologise?"

Ron nodded. "Yeah. He kind of made me see sense, I guess…actually, he said I was being a downright asshole. So yeah, he told me to apologise…but _I_ wanted to."

"Okay," Carl said, brushing it off as though it were nothing. "Thanks."

Ron gave a long sigh, clearly relieved he had Carl's understanding. "I really want us to be friends again, you know? Mikey's going to apologise too. He's coming over in a minute, and, umm…well I don't know where Enid is, she's probably _out_. But we're gonna shoot some hoops. You…you wanna shoot some hoops with us?"

"That's cool and all, but I can't. I'm still grounded."

"Really? Wasn't that like, a week ago?"

"No, only a couple of days. I've got another week and a half of work, and then maybe another two weeks…depends on what my dad decides."

"Geez man, he's kind of a hard ass."

Carl shrugged, laughing a little. "Yeah…he was really mad."

"Alright…well maybe when you're not grounded you could come over then? It sucks only having three players for Mario Kart, we can't do teams."

"Yeah," Carl nodded. "That would be cool. I'll let you know when I'm off the hook."

As the two of them began making their farewells Rick came out from inside the kitchen, no longer pretending to give them privacy. Looking out he was relieved to finally lay eyes on Carrie, finding her standing by the gardens on the other side of the street, suspiciously watching Pete and Ron's every move. As Ron departed he gave Rick a short nod of gratitude, but it was to Pete that Rick was paying most attention, Carrie too. He seemed satisfied with his son's apology, and when Ron joined him out on the street he clapped him on the shoulder, the two of them speaking for a moment. Just as it looked like everything was fine Pete said something else and then turned towards the house, leaving Ron out on the street as he approached the front porch.

"Go inside," Rick said sharply, putting his hand on Carl's shoulder and giving a gentle nudge. "Go."

Not questioning it, Carl did as he was told and went inside straight away, closing the door behind himself. Despite the sincere apologies Ron had just delivered, Rick saw no reason to engage Pete in conversation, nor to let him any nearer to his children than absolutely necessary.

"Can I help you?" he asked bluntly.

Pete got the hint and stopped on the sidewalk. There was an awkward pause, and then he spoke. "That stomach flu's still going around," he said in concern. "Is Judy running a fever?"

Rick glanced down at Judith, knowing that even at a distance she didn't appear to be well. "No, she's fine."

Pete nodded. "If she starts one, you've got children's Tylenol for her. A dose of that will keep it down, or -"

"She's fine, thank you."

Understanding the root of Rick's tone, Pete nodded again. He didn't push the subject any farther, but nor did he gloat the fact that Judith was unwell, that despite Rick's warning to stay away from his children he might be needed at some stage. "Alright," he said politely, returning to Ron's side. "You know where I am if you become concerned."

Rick didn't say anything in response, knowing perfectly well where he could find Pete. Staying out on the porch he watched critically as Pete and Ron departed. For all intents and purposes the scene was perfectly innocent, the touch of Pete's hand to Ron's shoulder one that reassured him, that gave praise for what he had done. On the surface what had just happened was perfectly innocent…Ron had come to apologise to he and Carl, trying to make amends following Pete's counsel. It was the latter part that got under Rick's skin, that made him feel uncomfortable…Pete had been the one who encouraged Ron to apologise, he had apparently convinced him to go home to Jessie.

That's what worried him.

* * *

Carrie stepped out of the house and breathed deeply, needing the fresh air to fill her lungs and rid herself of the smell of vomit that made her retch. Rick had been right earlier, Judith had indeed succumbed to illness, the sound of her unhappy crying leading Carrie to the master bedroom en suite where she found them. The sight and smell of what she found in there had her gagging out of reflex, her stomach turning even as she lifted her shirt to cover her mouth and nose, but she forced herself to go in. She'd been gone for longer than expected, and she knew that Rick would be awaiting her return. He hadn't wanted her to go alone, he'd been worried about Pete's behaviour…and with good reason too.

Outside in the fresh air and the warm sun, Carrie found solitude passing through the many rows of lush garden beds. They'd been harvesting recently, but with so many in the community it had been light work, much to Carrie's disappointment. In her mind she and Rick would have worked on this together, the scene reminiscent of the day they spent in the gardens at the prison. That had been such a long time ago and they barely knew each other, in fact Carrie suspected that her company in the gardens hadn't been because Rick required help, but because he wanted to keep an eye on her. Back then she had been the newcomer, a potential liability and danger to the group. He and those like Daryl had made a point of staying closer to her until they developed trust, rapport. Despite this, the day she and Rick spent together in the prison gardens had been enjoyable, she just wished they could have that again.

It was the impending conversation with Carl that gave her the confidence that one day she and Rick would work on the gardens together, that one day spending time with one another would be normal. The lazy afternoon they had spent in bed was wonderful, but it hadn't been spur of the moment, but meticulously planned. A baby sitter arranged for Judith, the house to themselves…soon being together would be normal. Sex could be more impromptu, and an innocent kiss goodbye would be routine.

Looking forward to getting it over and done with, to ripping off the band aid in a fashion, Carrie kept a close eye on the house as she made her way through the gardens. Her excitement grew when Carl came home at exactly four thirty, but she didn't allow herself to rush inside. He would have to clean up first, to take a shower and redress like Rick had said. There was plenty of time before her shift on watch, and no need for them to rush.

As tended to happen, Carrie found herself drawn into conversation as she made her way through the gardens, catching the attention of Bob who was sitting on his back porch. While Natalie was inside unwell, he was seeking refuge from the illness by staying out, and when he saw Carrie passing by it was inevitable he call out to her, delaying her return home. They talked happily for a short while, Carrie keeping track of the time so that she didn't linger long, but any worries of not coming home in time were quickly replaced with a different worry. The last thing she expected was to glance over her shoulder and see Pete Anderson outside her home, boldly standing in the middle of the street looking up at the house. Her blood ran hot, instinct seeing her bid Bob an abrupt farewell before she marched away, certain that something was about to go down, that she was going to have to step in before Pete dared to even try approaching the house itself.

She was halfway across the gardens before she came to a stop, slowly coming to the realisation that her intervention was unnecessary. Not only where Eric and Gordon lingering a little way up the road to keep watch of Pete wasn't alone. While he stood out on the road, Ron and Rick stood on the porch, the latter holding Judith in his arms, a slight frown on his face. They were talking quietly, Ron pausing to look over his shoulder to his father out on the street, and when he received a nod of reassurance he turned back to Rick and kept talking.

From a distance Carrie could only make assumptions, but based solely on Ron's body language she got the feeling some kind of apology was being made. He looked embarrassed, his hands in his pockets and his feet shifting about while he and Rick talked. As the scene in front of her played out before her eyes she wondered what on earth was going on, why Pete and Ron were so unexpectedly there visiting, and why Rick was allowing them to. Early Denise had told her she was going to Deanna immediately, both of them confident that the incident with Pete would be quickly addressed. But surely Pete hadn't submitted to her authority so quickly, and without a fight…so why was he there? Surely by now Pete would be furious, with her in particular.

By treating her so horribly he had hoped she would go to Rick, that he could provoke him into another argument or fight like last week. But Carrie refused to let them both be played so easily, and she would not give Pete what he wanted. Instead, she beat him at his own game and went to Denise for help instead, intentionally keeping Rick out of the issue all together. As anticipated, Denise's first concern had been for Carrie, and she listened attentively as she recounted what had happened with Pete.

It came as no surprise that Denise would come through for her, that she would ensure Carrie got the contraception she asked for, but was did surprise her was Denise's confidence in the matter. As though Pete wasn't a bully that made her working life miserable, Denise strode straight into the Infirmary and unlocked the restricted medical cabinets, ignoring any protest Pete tried to make. Too well disciplined and so recently empowered, Denise rose above his belittlement, and when she joined Carrie outside five minutes later it was like nothing had happened. In no time at all they were back in Denise's bedroom, Carrie tossing back the pill with a glass of water before they prepared to talk.

"I'm going to need to bring this up with Deanna," Denise told her apologetically. "I'll maintain patient confidentiality, but she needs to be aware of Pete's behaviour, particularly given the motivation behind it. I know you're good friends with Jessie."

"I am," Carrie agreed, though she hastened to lay all her cards on the table. Though she didn't know Denise all that well, she knew that she could trust her. "If Deanna wants to talk to Rick about what happened, please ask her not to."

Denise pursed her lips, considering this request. "Why's that?"

"Pete didn't do this because I'm friends with Jessie, he did it because of Rick. He and I…we're seeing each other."

"I see," Denise nodded, her expression professional and without gossip. "So, you don't want him to know about this at all?"

"Just not about Pete," she explained. "Pete's only trying to get under his skin, I don't want him enticing Rick into another fight, especially over me. But if Rick asks about this?" she clarified, holding up the empty pill packet. "You can tell him about this…just not about Pete."

Denise hesitated, thinking about this for a few moments. "I'm not sure how Deanna will feel about that. She will prefer to be forthright, particularly with Rick."

"Then stall her for me, just for the day. I'll tell Rick tomorrow… _after_ this is sorted out," she concluded, coming to her decision. "If we tell him now, he'll over react, and he'll play straight into Pete's hands. I'll tell him after Deanna has handled the problem."

Reluctantly agreeing to Carrie's requests, Denise departed to go and visit Deanna, to take care of the issue that had arisen. Carrie on the other hand went home, taking the long route around Alexandria so that she didn't have to walk past the Infirmary. She wasn't afraid of Pete by any means, but she didn't necessarily want to see him either. The things he had said were still running through her head, as was the awful feeling it had left her with. Until then her day had been perfectly fine, great in fact considering how enjoyable the afternoon with Rick had been…it had been so easy for Pete to ruin that for her.

When she came home Carrie knew she had made the right choice to keep Rick uninvolved, finding him with his hands full thanks to the stomach flu sweeping the community.

At the time it didn't bother her that she had told Rick a white lie, that she assured him there had been no problems in sourcing the contraception. It was a necessary lie, one she would have to maintain until the following day when the situation had deescalated enough for him to let it go, but very quickly her certainty in that decision was fading. Now that Pete was there at their house so suddenly, she wondered if maybe she ought to have told Rick what had happened. It filled her with suspicion to see Pete there, to see such a sudden change in behaviour from him. An hour ago he'd crudely suggested a back yard abortion in attempt to provoke Rick into a fight…now he and his son were trying to make peace? Perhaps Deanna had spoken to him already. Perhaps she had been more effectual than Carrie had anticipated.

A short while later Rick went back inside, leaving Ron awkwardly waiting out on the porch. Carrie too waiting, she knelt down by the garden bed she was near, trying to avoid drawing attention to herself in case Pete happened to look around. It was clear to her that Rick had this situation handled, that no intervention on her part was necessary, but whatever was happened didn't need her distraction. If Pete was indeed there apologising with Ron, then her presence might put him off, might compel him to apologise to her too.

As soon as this thought occurred to Carrie she wanted to burst out laughing - Deanna was good, but she honestly couldn't anticipate their leader convincing Pete to give her an apology.

Moments later Carl came outside, his brown furrowed tentatively as he listened to Ron making his apology, but slowly he seemed to relax. A small smile crossed his face as he and Ron talked, and despite her suspicion and uncertainty, Carrie allowed herself to breathe a sigh of relief for the teen. It was nice to see him with a smile on his face, to see he and Ron talking as though nothing at all had happened between them. Only that afternoon Rick had worried about how miserable his son seemed, how the feud with Ron had affected him more than either of them anticipated. Rick too would be happy with this turn of events, that much she was certain of.

Not making a move until Pete was departing, Carrie brushed the soil from her knees and returned home as Pete and Ron began making their way up the street. Having noticed her watching from the gardens Rick appeared to be waiting for her, though his attention was mainly focused on those departing. Though he seemed satisfied with whatever had discussed she could tell that he was still on edge about it, that it had taken him by surprise.

Joining him up on the porch, she glanced inside and ascertained that Carl was in the kitchen out of ear shot. "What was that all about?"

"Ron apologised," Rick answered, slowly rubbing Judith's back as they watched. "To Carl, _and_ to me."

The two of them stood there in silence, watching as Pete and Ron reached the intersection outside Jessie's house. They talked for a few moments before embracing, Pete kissing the crown of his son's head before letting him go a few moments later. It was moments like this that made Carrie's skin crawl, the sight of Pete being so warm and affectionate with the children he had so recently terrorised. He didn't deserve a relationship with his children, and yet they had no choice but to allow it. Maggie needed an experienced doctor to see her through his pregnancy, meaning that Pete got to continue being a father, regardless of whether or not he deserved it. Having heard many things from Jessie and after the incident in the Infirmary, the compromise they were forced to make seemed to sour even more.

"Everything okay?" Rick asked lowly.

She felt him nudging her, concerned when she didn't immediately answer. Like earlier she quickly brightened her features, wanting to reassure him. "Yes, everything's fine. I'm just surprised."

"So am I," he said, echoing his own words again in an uncertain mumble that faded away. "I was looking for you earlier."

Still a little distracted, she watched until Pete and Ron parted ways, the former heading to the Infirmary while Ron headed home to Jessie. "I just went to get some fresh air," she answered honestly. "I was out in the gardens, pulled a couple of weeds. That's all."

Rick tore his eyes away from Pete's departing form and looked at her. "There are no weeds in my garden."

"Are you sure?"

"There are no weeds in my garden," he emphasised, sounding insulted by the thought. "What the hell did you pull out?"

"Weeds," she insisted, brushing her hand across his stomach as she walked past him and went inside.

"Weeds in that new planter box? Because those weren't weeds, they were spring onions."

Carrie sighed, sharing a look of exasperation with Carl. "Give me some credit, I can tell a weed from an onion. You want some help, Carl?"

"Yeah," he nodded gratefully. "Could you empty the dishwasher?"

Just as Rick was about to scold him, Carrie beat him to it. "Nice try," she said wryly. "That's your chore."

"Fine…do you know how to turn on the oven?" he teased.

"I'll give it a shot," she assured him, consulting the handwritten notes Carol had left them to set the appropriate temperature.

As she bustled around and started helping, she noticed the way Rick happened to be watching them, and so she returned his watchful gaze, winking when he noticed her attention. Though he smiled and winked back, Carrie could tell that his heart wasn't in it. With Judith fast falling asleep against his shoulder he was swaying back and forth, but his body language made him look like he was on edge, like he was waiting for something to happen. After what went on in the Infirmary earlier Carrie too felt that way, but they were both going to have to snap out of it. They were going to tell Carl soon, in fact at any minute. She was just waiting for Rick to give the go ahead, for him to start the conversation or ask Carl to come and sit down. Figuring he was waiting for Judith to be properly settled she didn't get too impatient. Finally Rick began to speak, but she could tell from his tone that it wasn't what she wanted to hear.

"Carl," he began, calling for his attention.

Standing beside her Carl looked up straight away, the knife he was using coming to a stop. "Yeah?"

"Ron asked you to go shoot hoops with him, right?"

Anticipating where he was going with this, Carrie withheld a sigh of frustration, keeping her face impassive and uninterested.

"Yeah."

"Do you want to go?"

"What do you mean?" Carl asked in confusion, his voice already sounding hopeful. "I'm grounded."

"Answer the question. Do you _want_ to go and shoot hoops with Ron and Mikey, yes or no?"

There was a short pause, Carl considering the question. "Yeah," he said quietly. "I do."

She turned away and bustled around in the sink, not wanting Rick to see the disappointment that she wouldn't be able to hide. She knew why he was doing this, that he wanted to give Carl the opportunity to solidify the renewed friendship with Ron…once again he was putting his children first, and once again she had to try and not resent it.

"Go," Rick said abruptly. "You can have half an hour, and don't even think about negotiating for more."

Carl's eyes widened, his lips parting in surprise. "Seriously?"

"Just this once, and only because it'll be good for you and Ron. After this, you serve the rest of your punishment like before, and I'll reconsider the terms after two weeks. Got it?"

Carl all but dropped the knife onto the chopping board, his face lighting up as he headed for the stairs. "Got it. Thanks Dad, seriously. Thanks."

Carrie looked up as Carl raced out of the kitchen to find his shoes, and it was then she saw Rick coming to her. Still rocking Judith in his arms he came into the kitchen where Carrie was spooning instant coffee into a travel mug, getting it ready to take on watch. She knew what he was going to say, that he wasn't stalling, but she let him say it anyway.

"It's only half an hour. We'll have plenty of time before you go on watch."

She nodded and then looked up at him, determined to hold him to this. "You promise?"

"I promise," he said emphatically, though they was conscious that he had already broken this promise once.

"Thank you," she said, placing her hand on his forearm only to take it away a moment later when Carl came racing downstairs.

"Half an hour, not a second later," Rick reminded him.

"Got it," he agreed, stopping to tighten one of his shoelaces.

"That's five-fifty."

"Half an hour, or pain of death," Carl agreed, standing up and looking him in the eye. "I got it."

"Wait," Rick said sternly, calling Carl back as he tried to leave. He joined him at the front door, wanting to speak to him quietly. "You listening?"

Curious, Carrie kept her face lowered but her eyes raised, watching Rick and Carl as she shamelessly eavesdropped. If they wanted privacy they would have spoken outside, and a moment later she was glad she listened in.

"It's great that Ron apologised to you, that he's trying to make amends," Rick began sensitively. "But just because you don't have much choice in friends doesn't mean you have to put up with bullshit. If he's an asshole to you, tell him to go fuck himself."

Carl gaped at him in astonishment, a short laugh escaping his lips. "Seriously? I have permission to say that?"

"Yes, you do. You don't have to put up with bullshit from anyone, least of all someone who's supposed to be your friend. Give him the benefit of the doubt, but don't take any shit either."

Grinning, Carl nodded his head as he began to leave. "Thanks Dad."

"Half an hour, or pain of death," he reminded him.

"Got it!"

Watching him go, Rick lingered by the front windows a few moments while Carrie took over the cooking, trusting that she could follow the hastily scrawled directions Carol had left before tending to Natalie. As Rick paced the living room with Judith Carrie focused on the food, using her left hand to slowly and methodically slice the carrots. After everything that had happened it wouldn't do well to go to the Infirmary with a cut that needed stitching, regardless of Pete's apparent attempt to make amends.

As this thought occurred to her she glanced up at Rick, watching as he settled Judith down onto the couch and rubbed her back. She fussed a little, but silence soon fell, the little girl succumbing to how tired and unwell she felt. Watching as Rick stayed by her side a little longer, Carrie started to second guess herself. Her intention had been to tell Rick about the incident at the Infirmary tomorrow, after it had all blown over and there was nothing left for him to do. She knew Rick, she knew his strengths and his flaws too…if he got wind of the things Pete had said to her he would act without thinking. Most problems he handled with a cool and level head, taking the time to carefully think them through, but she knew that wouldn't be the case with Pete. But now? Though he himself hadn't made an apology, Pete had attempted to start mending fences, compelling Ron to apologise and make up with Carl. Surely that was a good sign, right?

Nevertheless a small part of her was uncomfortable, still surprised by the sudden turn of events. The things Pete said to her still rang through her head, his crude offer of an abortion still making her heart race a little…how had he gone from that attitude to apologetic? Had Deanna spoken to him already? Had she really been that impactful?

"Are you sure everything's okay?" Rick enquired, joining her in the kitchen now.

"Yeah, it is," she told him, opening and closing cupboard drawers in search of a pot for boiling water. "I'm just a bit nervous, that's all."

"Same. Is this what you're looking for?"

She turned around and looked at the drawer he had opened, not surprised that he knew his way around the kitchen better than she did. "Yes, thank you."

When she took a pot from the drawer she felt his hand on her elbow, the simple touch drawing a smile onto her face. As she stood straight and faced him she felt all her problems easing, her uncertainty around Pete fading as Rick leant in to kiss her. It was a mere touch of his lips to hers, a gentle kiss that sought to comfort her, to reassure that everything would be alright.

"Thank you," she repeated, forcing herself to turn away. She filled the pot with water and then set it onto the stove top, carefully looking at the various knobs to find the right burner. "Carl seemed really happy about Ron."

"Yeah, he did," Rick agreed.

She returned to the chopping board with the intention of collecting the vegetables and putting them into the pot of water, but Rick stopped her. Moving behind her he settled his hands on the top of her arms, letting them rest there a few moments as he gauged her response, reading what she wanted. Knowing exactly what she wanted she turned her head and looked at him over her shoulder, the slight tilt of her face requesting a kiss on the cheek. He acquiesced happily, letting his lips linger as he moved closer and wrapped his arms around her waist, holding her close. It was this embrace that she needed, the simple reassurance of his touch bringing the peace of mind she had been seeking. Before being with him she hadn't been an overly tactile person, she hadn't sought others out for the touch of a hand or a sweet embrace, but Rick did. It came so naturally to him, and it was easy to pick up on and reciprocate his affections.

"It's nearly over," he said quietly, warming her cheek with his breath. "We can start our lives now."

"Thank you."

Forgetting about dinner for now, Carrie closed her eyes and melted back into his arms, taking the time to just enjoy the moment. This was happening now…in twenty five minutes Carl would be home, and they could finally tell him. He might take the news well, he might not, either way they were telling him, that's the part Carrie let herself cling to.

* * *

High with elation, Carl stepped outside and breathed in the sweet smell of freedom.

He had a half hour reprieve before he had to get back to the drudgery of his punishment. More doing dishes, changing diapers, cleaning, yard work…more scrubbing toilets. Though he'd been punished before for various infractions, he'd never actually been grounded for anything, and he had to admit that it fucking sucked. Mikey had been grounded a month ago for talking back, but all that really meant was that he had his Playstation and television confiscated for a week. He was still allowed to have friends over, he was still allowed to go out and do things…Carl was not.

His dad had been tougher on him than anyone expected, and Carl knew that people had been shocked to see the extent of his punishment. Any moment in which he wasn't sleeping, eating or at school he was expected to be working. He had no free time, no television, no iPod, no comic books…he wasn't even allowed candy or a can of soda, though he had an emergency Kit Kat stashed in his nightstand that his dad didn't know about. He was only four days into a two week punishment, potentially four weeks if he didn't behave himself to his dad's satisfaction, and so he'd kept his complaining to a minimum.

Carl was willing to admit that he deserved this punishment, that what he had done was pretty bad. As soon as the gunshot wound on his leg had healed enough for him to climb the walls and run at will, he had taken advantage of every opportunity to sneak out, as rare as they were. The temptation to enjoy freedom and independence outside the walls had been too good to resist, regardless of how often his dad and the others took him outside with them. He knew his dad didn't want to keep him hidden away inside the community, that he didn't want his skills to lapse, but for Carl it was more than staying strong. He wanted solitude, not company. Most of the time he spent out there he was sitting up a tree, taking refuge there so that he could let his guard down and relax, so that he could sit and think. The opportunities for this solitude were rare, for he could only ever go out when his whereabouts wouldn't be accountable, but when the moment came it was always easy. Climbing over was fairly straightforward, and at the top all he needed was thick gloves and some knee pads to help him get over the barbed wire and broken glass…so long as he took advantage of the surveillance cameras' blind spots and climbed over when the person on watch wasn't looking, he didn't get caught.

But as he tended to do, he got cocky and dared to sneak out when he knew Daryl was hunting. He'd been sitting up in his favourite tree when Daryl had seen him, and Carl had been so taken aback that he had lied before he could think better of it. Telling Daryl that his dad knew he came out here alone had been a bigger mistake than sneaking out in the first place, for not only had it carried the risk that the topic would come up in conversation, but this had been what angered his dad the most. It was bad enough that he endangered his life by sneaking over the walls without a gun, but it was his deceitfulness that had really sealed his fate.

If he'd just come clean that day Daryl had caught him he still would have been punished, likely as severely as he was now, but he wouldn't have brought so much shame on himself. That was what lingered in the back of his mind the most, his dad's disappointment in him. He didn't think he had ever disappointed his dad like he had this time, not even at the prison when he had shot that person in the woods. His dad had been upset then, but not disappointed in him. Knowing that he had let his dad down was part of the reason he kept his complaining about his punishment to a minimum. He was ashamed.

Yet despite how awful his punishment was proving to be, on one hand it didn't really matter to him. The non stop work sucked, but the lack of free time to spend with his friends didn't…it wasn't like he had anywhere to go or anyone to hang out with, except maybe Enid. These days he was coming to learn that there were many types of friendship, and that not all of them were as easy and simple as the ones he had with people like Michonne. His friendship with Ron, Mikey and Enid was one of convenience, there was no point in denying it. The four of them were the only teenagers here, so logic dictated that be friends, regardless of whether or not they actually liked each other.

This lack of genuine friendship had become very clear in the last two weeks, particularly when it came to Ron. Though Carl had tried to be understanding and sympathetic, because his dad was right, Ron was going through a difficult time, there was only so much he could take. Ron was being an asshole through and through, he was going out of his way to be a jerk. He blamed Carl for starting the sequence of events that led to his parents' separation, even though all he had done was try to help Jessie. Ron hadn't seen it that way, and when Carl refused to stay quiet about what he knew was going on, their otherwise peaceful friendship had taken a turn for the worse. The brawl they had in the middle of the street was nothing compared to what had come next.

It was one thing for Ron to completely ditch him and to try making his life hell…but he'd turned Mikey against him, although Carl should have seen this coming. Mikey was as spineless as Nicholas, and he went along with anything Ron told him. When Ron ignored Carl at school, so did Mikey. When Ron called him Jack under his breath and tried to throw spitballs at him, so too did Mikey. For the most part Carl ignored them, trying to remember what his dad had said, that Ron was going to need him as a friend very soon, but there was only so much he felt he should have to take. Nevertheless the outright attacks hadn't lasted long, not after Carl punched him square in the nose for calling Michonne a _nigger_. This too should have been expected, for Pete was still rather resentful for the fact that it had been a woman who pepper sprayed him...but Carl never expected it to come from Ron...that slur had been the last straw for Carl. It was one thing for them to pick on him, but to start on Michonne?

It really was a beautiful sight to see Ron clutching his nose, desperately trying to pretend that he wasn't crying. Thankfully none of the adults had seen this go down, and any injury would be hidden by the bruises that were still fresh from their brawl…after that incident, Ron went back to walking home from school using the roads behind the houses, trying to avoid him. His efforts to taunt Carl turned into a cold shoulder, as did Mikey's efforts, a change which he happily welcomed. It was better that way, and the deescalation meant he didn't have to tell his dad what was going on, though he was sure he knew. He had asked him about it a few times, as had Michonne and Glenn, but Carl had assured them everything was fine. Ron was a problem he wanted to fix on his own, and with a single punch he had.

The only positive thing to come out of this whole situation was Enid, for Carl now had the knowledge that his friendship with her wasn't one based on convenience. Sure she was moody and sullen, sometimes even an outright bitch when provoked, but that was just her. Just as she had for him, he accepted her as who she was, the two of them knowing that they were the only ones who really understood one another's experiences outside Alexandria. But despite her being Ron's girlfriend (even though he'd never actually seen them kiss), Enid listened to no one, always doing exactly as she pleased. So when Ron and Mikey had turned on Carl, Enid had not, remaining completely uninvolved with the fight. She alone had been Carl's only friend among them,

But now, things seemed to have changed with Ron. He'd apologised to him for everything, and his apology even seemed genuine. Being totally honest with himself, Carl wanted to tell him to fuck off and die, but he didn't. Instead he remembered what his dad had told him the day he and Ron brawled, that Ron was having a tough time, that he was going to need Carl's understanding. Despite how Ron had been treating him, Carl couldn't turn away from him…that wasn't who he was. The moment he'd nodded and his head and told Ron that it was was alright it felt like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders. Their friendship wasn't real, he still didn't like Ron in the first place…but at least now they could get along again. Hell, they could even pass the time hanging out together. So when his dad had offered to let him go for a half hour, to temporarily vacate his punishment for the sake of reestablishing his friendship with Ron, Carl had jumped at the chance. False friendship or not, Carl knew better than to turn down that offer, and he'd eagerly accepted his dad's conditions. No negotiating, be home on time and continue his punishment thereafter…he was willing to do that.

As he made his way up the street towards Ron's house, Carl could already hear the steady thud of the basketball bouncing on the road. Despite his eagerness to be hanging out, he played it cool as he came around the corner to where the basketball hoop was, not wanting to show Ron and Mikey how relieved he was to be there. He hadn't forgiven Mikey for being so spineless that he followed Ron's lead no matter what, and despite what he had said just a few minutes ago he still hadn't forgiven Ron either. Not trusting either of them, he feigned slight indifference, for if they knew how relieved he was to be out there then it was just something they could use against him later.

"Hey, look who it is," Ron smiled, looking genuinely pleased Carl was there. "What happened, man?"

"My dad," he explained, catching the basketball as Mikey bounced it to him. "It must be snowing in hell because I got furlough."

"What the hell is that?" Mikey asked.

"It's like temporary leave," he explained, bouncing the ball back. "Prison inmates can get it if someone dies…Dad must be feeling sorry for me."

"Nice," Mikey nodded, taking a shot at the hoop. The ball circled the hoop a few times and then rolled off, so Ron caught it and then lined up for his own shot.

"So, what have you guys been doing lately?"

"Your mom!" Ron answered with a laugh, taking his shot. He too missed, the ball bouncing off the backboard.

"Wow, be careful in the hood," Carl warned him, deciding to ignore the comment.

Though he knew it shouldn't, the immature reference got to him. Barely two weeks ago Ron had told him _'_ _Stop worrying about my mom just because you killed yours',_ his attempt to make Carl stay out of the fact that his mom was being beaten up by Pete. Any comment about his mother that Ron made usually hit Carl pretty hard, even more so now that he knew how little Ron valued his own. Catching the ball as it rebounded from Ron's shot, Carl dribbled it a few times and took a shot…it went straight in. Back at the prison Daryl had been teaching him and Patrick how to make perfect baskets, a skill Carl hadn't expected him to possess.

"Nice one," Mikey said, darting forward and taking the ball.

"Yeah," Ron said slowly. "Nice one, Carl."

Still playing it cool, Carl looked at Ron from the corner of his eye, trying to decipher the strange look he was currently receiving. Unsure of what to make of it, he chose to ignore it instead. "So," he began awkwardly, trying to fill the silence. "How's your dad, Mikey?"

He asked only to fill the silence, not because he cared. Nicholas had barely been seen since the day of the failed supply run, the day Aidan and Noah had died. Everyone knew what he had done, that his cowardice had gotten Noah killed, that he had intentionally left Glenn and Carrie behind so that he could save himself. While some took pity on him, his name was mud to other's like Carl's group. Tara was the one who described their feelings for him the best. _If Nicholas was drowning in the lake and you only had ten seconds to save him, what type of sandwich would you make yourself?_

"He's okay," Mikey answered, oblivious to the way Carl really felt about him. He successfully took a shot at the hoop, letting the ball bounce over to Ron next. "He's not doing much these days."

 _You mean he's not getting people killed? That's a nice change._

"Cool," Carl muttered, watching Ron take his shot next.

The ball hit the back board and bounced back to Ron, but instead of passing it to Carl he lined up and took another shot. He gave a loud whoop when it went through the hoop, and he darted forward to grab it again. Dribbling it a few times, he looked Carl in the eye and then passed it to Mikey.

"Nice job cutting all that grass by the way," he commented then. "You've missed a couple of spots though."

"You've still got all that area near the cemetery to go," Mikey added, taking another successful shot. "And across from the townhouses."

"All those gutters to clean out…you gotta stop making such a mess on the pavement, man."

Carl's expression soured before he could stop himself, remembering what Ron had done that morning. As he cleaned out the gutters he collected the muck in buckets rather than dumping it onto grass and flowerbeds, but when Ron passed by he had intentionally kicked one over, laughing as the mess spread everywhere. That had only happened that morning.

"Those window's too, there are big streaks on Shelley's windows."

Ron laughed in amusement, catching the ball and taking a shot. "The compost bin at my house is full, by the way."

Increasingly annoyed, Carl stood up for himself. "Well you know where the compost heap is." When Ron looked him in the eye but passed the ball back to Mikey, Carl continued. "I know it's complicated and all, but I'm sure you can manage to open the lid all by yourself."

"It's okay. My _mom_ will help me."

Carl knew what Ron was doing, that he was taking cheap shots about his punishment and his mom, as well as intentionally excluding him from the game. It was petty, and it told Carl that the apology he'd received only five minutes ago was pure bullshit. Ron didn't want to resolve their friendship, he wanted someone to pick on again. Remembering what his dad had said, Carl refused to let Ron do that to him. The perfect retort came to mind easily, and though he knew it was cruel he said it anyway.

"Has your mom got time to help you in between changing your bed sheets?"

Ron's face fell, his cheeks reddening as he realised what Carl was getting at. The first night after Rick had brought that Walker into the community and Anna had killed it in front of them, Ron had such bad nightmares he'd wet the bed. Carl had felt bad when Mikey had told him, and he would have never brought it up or teased Ron…until now. Completely missing what had been said, Mikey bounced the ball over to Ron, but Carl darted forward and intercepted it. He intentionally collided with him, using his shoulder to shove him back before taking a shot at the hoop. Just like before, he got it in.

"Whoops, sorry," he apologised, catching the ball and then tossing it back to Mikey. "Was that a bit rough for you, Ron?"

To Carl's surprise a smile was forming on Ron's face. His cheeks were still pink, still clearly embarrassed about what had been said, but he was definitely smiling.

"Actually, my mom has a lot of time to help me with things. What about yours?"

Carl raised his eyebrows. "Wow, another cheap shot about my mom. Good one. Very original."

"My Dad does too…yeah, he's still around a lot. What about yours? Does your dad have a lot of time for you lately?"

Catching the ball as Mikey threw it to him, Carl bounced it a couple of times and took yet another perfect shot. "Well, he doesn't spend much time beating up women, so yeah he does."

"I'm just surprised, that's all," Ron said. "He always seems so busy with her."

"Who?" Carl questioned, only half listening.

Ron laughed, smiling again. "Who?" he repeated. "You mean you don't know?"

Carl caught the ball and then held it in his fingertips as he looked between Ron and Mikey, trying to figure out what he had missed. "What are you talking about?"

Ron pulled a strange face, then he looked at Mikey and shrugged his shoulders. "He doesn't know what we're talking about," he said condescendingly.

There was an awkward silence before Carl sighed, and then he tossed the basketball aside. "You know what, I thought you wanted to make things right," he said dejectedly, taking a few steps back. "But if we're just going to be assholes to each other, I've got better things to do."

"Wait," Ron said, hastening to catch up when he walked away. "Better things to do…with your dad?"

"So what?"

"So he's a good guy, then?" he pestered. "He'd never do anything to hurt you?"

"Fuck off Ron, seriously."

"He'd never do anything…unfair?"

Stopping in his tracks, Carl grit his teeth and turned around. "What the fuck are you talking about?" he demanded in exasperation.

"Listen, listen…" Ron insisted, placating him with a smile. "You did me a real solid favour about my dad. I can see that now. Thank you."

Carl stared at him. "Okay."

"So here's the thing, Carl. In return, I'm gonna do you a solid favour about your dad too."

Looking over his shoulder Carl observed the way Mikey stood back watching them, he too unsure of where Ron was going with this. Feeling like he was being railroaded into something he turned back to Ron in concern, fighting the urge to get out of there. His heart was pounding, his palms beginning to sweat…something wasn't right, he knew it.

Ron grinned, pleased by Carl's apprehension. "You ready for this man?"

* * *

A/N The next chapter is dedicated to scraphound and all my exceedingly patient reviewers and readers.


	40. Chapter 40

As Rick stood there in the kitchen with his arms around Carrie's waist, every problem and concern they faced seemed to fade into the background. He nuzzled his face into her neck, wishing she hadn't tied her hair back into a pony tail. Though he wasn't one to tell her how to wear her hair, he liked seeing it down, seeing the way it framed her face. As he not so subtly slipped his hand under the bottom of her tank top he thought about how incredible she looked earlier that afternoon, the way her hair and breasts moved in tandem when she was on top of him. He smiled at this memory, allowing himself to indulge in it for just a few moments before trying to reign himself in. Knowing, or at least suspecting what he was thinking of, Carrie's stomach moved as she laughed under her breath, and then her hand was on top of his.

"Come on," she said quietly, turning around in his arms and looking up at him. "Let's-"

"Go upstairs?"

She soothed her rejection with a soft kiss. "I was going to say lets be good while we wait for Carl to come home."

"No," he disagreed, running his hands down her lower back and settling them on her ass. He squeezed the soft flesh, enjoying the way it prompted her to move closer to him. "Let's do the opposite…let's be bad."

She laughed now, her amusement reaching her eyes as she looked him in the eye. Teasing him, they shared a languid kiss before she pulled back and spoke again. "I don't think you could survive me being bad."

"You're telling me I haven't seen bad yet?"

"That's right."

"Not even that time out in the RV? When you stole my handcuffs…"

Carrie grinned, remembering that time fondly. "That was just a taste for you."

"Mmm," he murmured, bringing his lips to her neck and kissing softly. "Well for the record, it wasn't funny when you pretended you couldn't find the key after."

"Oh, but the look on your face was."

Rick brought their lips together in a sensual kiss, happily slipping his tongue past her lips to quieten her. It worked like a charm, her teasing words falling silent as they kissed, replaced by a breathless moan that rumbled in the back of her throat. It was so easy for them to slip into this mood, to give into desire when they were feeling stressed. Was it avoidance? An attempt to deter their problems? Rick didn't care…not at the moment anyway.

"God," she sighed when he moved his lips down to the crook of her neck, kissing and licking her skin while erring on leaving a mark. "This afternoon just whet your appetite, didn't it?"

"Yes," he agreed, moving to the other side of her neck. His hands started lifting her shirt, his fingertips roaming her ribs as he resisted the urge to open the clasp of her bra. "You know…we haven't had sex in the kitchen yet."

"Mmmm…we could be lick chocolate sauce off one another. Sticky, but worth it."

"Caramel," he corrected her, indicating his preference. "But first, let's keep it uncomplicated."

She started giggling now, her chest heaving before she reached back and brushed his hands out from underneath her shirt. "No…no. We're not having sex here."

"We're not?"

"Not today."

Settling his hands on her waist, Rick lingered on that last thought. "So, someday?"

"Of course," she smiled coyly, bringing her lips to his. "We've got the whole house to take advantage of. Kitchen, living room, laundry…"

"Dining room…the stairs."

"Yes to both, just not today."

Though happy to agree, Rick pushed his luck a little further, enjoying the playful nature of their conversation. "I could convince you," he insisted, kissing her just behind her right ear. He felt her leaning into him, enjoying his touch.

"We only have twenty five minutes."

"You and I both know what we can accomplish in twenty five minutes."

A shy giggle escaped her lips, but she pulled away and looked at him sternly. "Not today. Come on, we have to get dinner started, and you're going to have to finish it when I go on watch."

At her stern tone Rick reluctantly did as he was told, pressing one last kiss to her cheek before letting her go. He stepped back and watched her as she collected the vegetables and put them into the pot of water that was slowly coming to the boil, sharing a smile when she noticed him watching her. She seemed flattered by his watchful gaze, Rick distinctly noticing the way she swayed her hips when she moved back and forth between the counter and the stove top. Done with that she began tidying up, her speed hindered by the difficulty in using her right arm.

"You're just going to stand there and watch?" she queried when she was almost done.

Rick nodded, a smile coming to his face. "Yeah. I'm just going to stand here and watch."

The assertion that their earlier activities had only whet his appetite was correct, and now that he couldn't have her he only wanted her more. He didn't hide the fact that he was looking at her, admiring her body and the features of her face. Like they always did his scanned his eyes between her light hair and dark eyebrows, always so surprised by how well the contrast worked.

"Stop it," she told him, pretending to be affronted.

Satisfied that everything was tidy now she wiped her hand on a kitchen towel, sending a familiar smile his way as she looked at him from across the kitchen. Knowing what she had on her mind, Rick waited exactly where he stood, content to let her come to him this time. Finally she did, rolling her eyes to herself as she set the towel aside and made her way around the counter.

"Don't get your hopes up," she warned. "This is only a pity kiss."

She wound her good hand around his neck and pulled him close, a soft sigh escaping her lips as they kissed. Taking advantage of whatever time they had available to them Rick happily returned her kiss, letting one hand return to her waist while the other reached higher. He let it settle against her ribs as they kissed, his body flooded with desire for her, needing to have more. Judging that she shared these desires he stepped things up a little, turning them until she had her lower back against the counter, and he gently held her there as they kissed.

"Don't go on watch," he said softly, brushing some of her loose hair behind her ear. "Stay in. Tell them you're sick too."

"Oh? What will we do?"

"I'm sure we'll figure out how to fill the time," he said lowly. Teasing her now, he brought his hand down the front of her chest, letting it come to a stop on her breast as he gave her a soft kiss. "Once we've told Carl, and he and Judy go to bed…we'll practically have the house to ourselves. Maybe we could occupy ourselves in the living room."

"Sure," she smiled, returning his kiss. "I'm not sure how Daryl would feel about it, but alright. A couch quickie sounds amazing."

He chuckled, having forgotten about him. "Don't ruin my fantasy with your logic."

They kissed languidly now, Carrie giving a long sigh as she pulled Rick against her properly. Wondering if she would indeed fake being sick so she could stay home with him, he indulged himself in her once again, his mind racing with the possibilities of how they could fill the time. While his body acted of its own accord, his hand moving down to slip underneath her tank top, Rick took a moment to appreciate how happy he felt, the rare sense of hope and excitement he was allowed to have. Everything was coming together for them perfectly, everything was going to be alright.

Without warning Carrie jerked back from him, a small gasp of surprise passing her lips. As she roughly pushed his hand out from inside her tank top Rick spun around, his hand automatically drifting to his side where his Colt was normally holstered, readying himself to handle whatever it was that had startled her. But the moment he turned he felt his heart dropping into the pit of his stomach, a horrifying reality waiting to confront him. Time seemed to stand still in that awful moment he set his eyes on his son, forcing Rick to absorb the full magnitude of it.

Carl stood in the threshold of the living room, his cheeks pink and the brim of his hat clenched tightly in his fist. He was breathing hard, his lips pressed together in a hard line, and he said absolutely nothing. As he felt the walls closing in on them Rick apprehensively awaited his son's reaction, bracing himself for it…but it didn't come. The tension was palpable, the three of them standing there in shocked silence. No one knew what to say. Slower than he should have Rick removed his other hand from Carrie's waist and gave her what he hoped was a reassuring nod. This was not what they had planned, in fact if was one of his worst fears that Carl would see them like this before they could talk about it, but it had happened now. They had to deal with it, they had to handle the situation.

Bracing himself, Rick took a deep breath and turned back to his son. "Carl, I…"

He trailed off when Carl abruptly shook his head, apparently at a loss for words. Very quickly his shock was fading, his reddening cheeks and body language indicating that anger was very quickly taking hold instead. His shoulders moved as he took a couple of deep breaths, his eyes darting around as he tried to think, to process what he had just walked in on.

"I'm sorry you had to see that," Rick started again, forcing himself to speak. "It's not how I wanted this conversation to start. Carl…we need to talk."

There was a long pause, and then Carl suddenly looked up at him, his shoulders straightening. "Yeah, no shit," he said heavily, his voice wavering.

He too trying to process the sudden change of events, Rick glanced over his shoulder at Carrie, his heart sinking even further. She looked positively white, her lips pressed into a thin line as she looked at Carl apprehensively, just waiting for the onslaught of anger that was about to be directed at her. She made eye contact with him in that brief moment, her eyes conveying everything she needed him to know, that she was scared, that she didn't know what to do now.

"I owe you an explanation," he said bluntly, turning back to Carl. He came forward now, ready to direct him to the table where they could sit, but the moment he took a step Carl took one back. "I know this is unexpected, but-"

"So go on," Carl cut him off, looking at him expectantly. "Explain it to me."

Relieved that he would listen, Rick breathed out slowly, taking care to chose his words selectively. "For a while now, Carrie and I have b-"

"You've been fucking her."

Taken aback by his tone, Rick hesitated a little. "No, it's not li-"

"It's the truth though, right?" he demanded, raising his voice as he turned to Carrie. "You've been fucking my dad?"

Carrie visibly flinched at this accusation, her face paling even more. As Carl shouted at her now Rick stepped in between them, blocking her from his view. "Carl, stop," he said firmly, looking him in the eye. "You need to let me explain."

"Explain what? Explain that you've been having _sex_ with her?" he exclaimed, sounding disgusted by the thought.

"Carl-"

"How long have you been doing this?"

"You need to let me explain."

There was a brief pause, and for a moment it looked like Carl might indeed let him explain, but only for a moment. "It happened on the supply run to Georgia, didn't it? That guy was telling the truth?"

"What guy?" Rick asked, hastily casting his mind back.

"The guy who held us up at the construction site," Carl reminded him breathlessly. "Remember? He said he saw you fucking a blonde, and then when I asked you about it later you said he was lying."

There was an audible gasp from behind him, and as his panic increased Rick turned around and looked at Carrie, remembering everything from that day. The people from Ohio who had attacked them on the supply run had been watching them from afar, had watched one morning as Rick and Carrie snuck away from the rest of the group and found privacy in a house a few blocks away. It didn't take much to figure out what had happened, nor that they should use it against Rick, but he had never told Carrie that they'd been seen. There had been no point, and the knowledge would have only upset her, not benefitted her. Now that Carl was bringing it up, she was learning it for the first time, and was understandably horrified.

"Carrie, I'll explain later," he assured her before turning back to his son. "Carl, yo-"

"So it's true?" he questioned. "That guy was telling the truth, and you were lying?"

Rick hesitated, the words difficult to say. "Yes," he admitted.

Carl's features twisted now, his anger escalating at this admission. "That wasn't even a year since Mom died," he said quietly, looking at Rick in disgust. "It wasn't a year, and you were having sex with someone else!"

"Don't bring your mom into this, it has nothing to do with her."

"But you're still wearing your wedding ring!" Carl suddenly shouted, his voice hoarse as he gestured to Rick's hand. "That's sick Dad! That's seriously fucked up!"

"Carl, j-"

"You barely knew Carrie! You barely knew her, a-and you two had sex?"

"Stop," Rick said loudly. "That's enough, now stop."

Carl fell silent immediately, and for a moment he actually looked relieved by this instruction, having not wanted to be saying any of this in the first place. As silence fell, Rick took a deep breath and then looked around at Carrie, saddened to see how upset she was, that she was shaking. Their plans had derailed, everything they had hoped for was going shockingly wrong…even worse, she had warned him about this. She had warned him that this would happen, that Carl would find out about their relationship the wrong way.

"Carl, we need to talk about this properly," Rick began, coming out of the kitchen towards him. As he turned he caught a glimpse of Michonne lingering on the staircase landing, her eye mask hanging around her neck as she waited on standby, unsure of whether or not to make her presence known. "We need to talk about this, properly. Take a seat, please."

Shaking his head Carl spoke through a clenched jaw. "No."

"I'm not asking."

"I don't want to hear anything from you. You're a liar."

Rick paused and took a deep breath, having been prepared for this accusation. From the living room he noticed movement from the couch, Judith having also roused at the sound of their loud voices. Huffing unhappily she clambered down from the couch, rubbing her tired eyes as she looked around at the scene before her, taking it all in.

"Yes, I lied to you," Rick admitted candidly, seeing no use in denying it.

"You've all be lying to me, _all_ of you," Carl emphasised, looking at Michonne as he said this. "I'm the only one who doesn't know, aren't I?"

"I understand that you're upset, you have every right to be," he sympathised. "But you need to let me explain."

"Upset? I'm not upset at all, I'm…" Carl trailed off, his gaze turning to something behind Rick before he exploded, angrier than Rick had ever seen him. "Hey, don't you touch her!"

Confused, Rick turned to find Judith standing behind him, passing her empty sippy cup to Carrie in a request for more. Just about to take it from her Carrie froze, her expression fraught with distress as she looked to him for help. As Judith started whining insistently Rick gave Carrie a brief nod of reassurance before turning back to Carl. "Carl, leave her be."

"I said don't touch her!"

"That's enough! Stop, now."

He started towards the kitchen now, the snarl on his face taking Rick by surprise. "You can fuck my dad all you want, but you're not her mom!"

Rick hastily stepped in, forced to intervene before much more was said. "I said that's enough," he repeated forcefully, making himself clear as he stepped in front of Carl and blocked him.

"She's not her mom!"

"Stop!" Rick finally shouted back, the volume and anger in his own voice halting Carl in his tracks. There was a moment of awful silence, Carl's thunderous expression an awful contrast to Carrie's worry. She looked back and forth between them, her lips parted as if she wanted to say something, but didn't quite know where to start. The only sound to be heard was Judith, the mumbled words she said as she insistently held the cup towards Carrie, her thirst still yet to be quenched.

"Carrie. You can take it," Rick said gently, giving permission even though he shouldn't have to.

Letting out the breath she had been holding, Carrie slowly nodded before taking Judith's cup, it's presence in her hand showing them how badly she was shaking. Still looking apprehensively at Carl she opened the lid and went to the sink to fill it with water. As the silence stretched on Rick turned back to his son, fully expecting to see his features souring as he watched Carrie tending to his sister, giving her something that he felt she had no right to. But before he could say anything Carl had turned on his heel and stormed out, his heavy footsteps echoing as he disappeared out the front door.

"Rick," Carrie said quietly, her voice wavering. "You should go."

He looked at her apologetically, his remorse for the situation only increasing when she made this suggestion. It was clear what she meant, both of them acknowledging that although she was upset and needed his support right now, Carl needed it more. Bracing himself as he left, he shared a loaded glance with Michonne who still stood in the hallway, and a hasty gesture towards the walls behind their house was all he needed to communicate his request. Rick was going after Carl, but if by chance he managed to flee outside the walls he was going to need someone there with him, someone who could afford him both privacy and protection by following at a distance. Understanding his request she promptly left through the side door, her katana already sheathed over her shoulder.

Without his duty belt to keep it on Rick wasn't carrying his Colt with him, and so was forced to delay his pursuit of Carl by going to the safe. He knew what was going to happen next, that his son was too far gone by now, and that the only place he would want to go would be outside the walls. If he had to chase Carl out there he needed his gun to do it, and so he hastily grabbed his Colt and a pocket knife before leaving Carrie behind and giving chase. To his surprise Carl hadn't made it far, only halfway towards the intersection in front of Jessie's house. His shoulders were hunched forward and his head bowed, body language that indicated he wanted to be alone. Ignoring this, Rick quickly chased him down, waving off onlookers like Abraham and Rosita next door who must have heard the commotion. When he heard footsteps behind him Carl turned around, his expression darkening when he saw his father behind him.

"Go away!" he shouted at him, speeding up his pace. "I'm not talking to you."

When he saw that Rick was not going to leave him alone Carl broke into a run, something that only solidified the decision to give chase in the first place. Regardless of what Carl wanted the two of them had to talk this through, he had to explain himself. Once that was over he would let Carl go, he'd let him go outside the walls and cool his temper in privacy. Even at this late time there would be over an hour of day light before dusk stirred the Walkers up, and Michonne would never be far behind him.

Quickly catching up to him out front of Shelly's house Rick moved in front of him and forced him to a stop, but to his astonishment Carl unexpectedly lunged at him. Giving an angry yell he shoved Rick as hard as he could, the force taking him by surprise and actually making him stumble. Quickly regaining his footing he looked at his son in surprise, and when he saw the signs that he was going to do it again he prepared himself for it. Needing to get them out of the way he began lowering his Colt and pocket knife to the road, setting them down as he held his hand up between himself and his son, warning him not to do that again.

"Carl, you and I need to-"

Rick didn't get to finish what he was saying, his words cut short when Carl shoved him again. It was taking every ounce of patience Rick had to not lose his temper, to handle his son's behaviour appropriately, but Carl wasn't exactly making this easy on himself. When he stepped forward Carl mirrored him by stepping back, shouting angrily when he wouldn't leave him alone. Though he tried to deescalate the situation, softening his body language and lowering his voice, Carl was having none of it, and moments later he lashed out again. With his frustration peaking, he lost all control and took an angry swing at Rick, gritting his teeth and yelling as he did so.

Knowing that he had only two options, those being to back off completely or restrain Carl with force, Rick made his choice carefully. He couldn't let this go, he couldn't let him leave the walls until he was calmer and more level headed, and with that in mind he chose the latter option. Being as gentle as he could given that Carl fought him every step of the way, he grasped his hand and spun him around, embracing him from behind in a tight hug that restrained his arms. Furious with him Carl yelled and struggled angrily, using his feet to try and get leverage, but Rick was too strong for him.

"That's enough, stop fighting me," he instructed firmly, exerting his authority while Carl was forced to listen. "Take a breath and calm down."

"I don't want to talk to you," he shouted, his voice all the more louder given their close proximity. "Let me go!"

Applying downward pressure Rick gently coaxed Carl onto his knees, feeling him beginning to settle as he submitted. He gave up sooner than expected, his submission allowing Rick to feel the way his body shook, the strained breathing that was slowly beginning to ease up. He breathed a sigh of relief that physical confrontation as over, for it had come as quite a surprise to him. It was natural for one to lash out when they felt cornered, and he didn't blame Carl for this reaction, but it hadn't been something he'd ever anticipated. Carl had never reacted so extremely to anything, he'd never lashed out in anger.

"Are you done?" Rick asked softly, needing his verbal acknowledgement of submission.

"Yeah," Carl said, his voice heavy with emotion.

Rick slowly helped Carl back to his feet and then let him go, fully expecting the way he shrugged him off in frustration. Not turning around he took a few steps away, his head bowed as his shoulders hunched as he picked up his fallen hat. As he waited Rick quickly looked around, uncomfortably aware that there were some onlookers, fellow residents who were gaping in horror at what was happening, unsure if they ought to intervene on the father and son.

When Carl finally turned around to face him his cheeks were red, his eyes shiny with tears of anger that he wouldn't let fall. "I don't want to talk to you," he said lowly, keeping his temper this time.

"That's too bad," Rick calmly replied, softening his voice. "Because we're going to talk, right now. Once we're done you can go, do whatever you like. But you're going to hear me out first."

Sniffling a little, Carl cleared his throat and looked away. He looked down at his hand, stretching his fingers and flexing them, perhaps thinking about how he had tried to punch Rick, the sudden outburst of violence that he couldn't contain. As Rick waited for him to be ready, he looked past his shoulder to where he could see Carrie arriving at the intersection. With Judith carried on her hip she came and stood by Rosita's side, perhaps wondering if he wanted her there or not. Though they had planned to tell Carl together, to not shy away from presenting themselves as a couple, he knew now that it wasn't an appropriate scene to present. That wasn't what Carl wanted to see, not now. He shook his head at her, silently apologising for what was happening.

"So," Carl began expectantly. "What then? What's your excuse?"

"No excuse," Rick stated simply, looking him in the eye. "This is a lot for you to take in, I know you're hurting…I know you miss Mom."

"Oh, you do remember her?"

"Yes. I miss her too," he said candidly, wanting to be completely honest.

"Then what are you doing with _her_?" Carl spat, as though the mere mention of Carrie's name was offensive. "Seriously Dad…why?"

Rick took a deep breath, knowing he had to be honest, even though it wasn't what Carl wanted to hear. "Because I love her. I didn't plan on this, I wasn't looking for it, I'm not trying to replace anyone. I love Carrie," he stated. "It's that simple."

Carl's features contorted as though his pain was physical, a number of emotions cross his face…grief, anger, fear…they all appeared for a moment, giving some indication as to how poorly he was taking this. He went to voice another question, his lips parting as he looked at Rick, but at the last moment he faltered and then turned away. The pain he could see on his son's face made Rick's heart ache too, and he wished it wasn't necessary.

"I'm sorry for lying to you. With Carrie, it's taken me a long time to be ready for what we have. This wasn't how we wanted you to find out about our relationship."

"Then…" Carl began, trailing of as his voice became strained. He looked away and took a deep breath, clearing his throat before he spoke again. "Then why did you lie to me?"

"Because I wasn't ready to tell you…I haven't been ready up until very recently. I've been trying to find the right time to talk to you about it, but you know that a lot has happened lately."

There was a brief pause, and though Carl didn't look back to him, he did nod. "Yeah," he agreed softly. "Noah."

"Noah, Pete and Jessie, the new guy, the Wolves…I've been trying to wait, but I waited too long. I'm sorry for that."

Carl nodded slowly, sniffling again as he took another deep breath. "So, you love her?" he questioned, sounding as though the words were difficult for him to say.

"Yes. Very much."

He turned and looked him in the eye now. "More than Mom?"

Having anticipated this question, Rick was prepared. "Don't think like that. Love does not work that way."

"Do you love her more than me and Judy?"

This too he had anticipated. "You and your sister are my children. I love you more than anyone, including Carrie."

Carl nodded, satisfied with this answer. He seemed to straighten his shoulders as he came to a decision, jutting his chin out a little. "If you love me more than Carrie, then I want you to break up with her."

Rick raised his eyebrows, having not expected such a bolt and abrupt request. Though he knew his answer, he took pause and reminded himself to be patient, that Carl was currently trying to figure out exactly where he stood. The power and roles in their relationship were shifting now that Carrie was included, and Carl was trying to figure out where he stood, what power he had.

"No, I won't do that. Love does not work that way either."

Staring him down, Carl's expression became blank for a few moments, and he was clearly gauging what Rick had said, absorbing everything he had come to learn. "Okay."

"Okay?"

Nodding, Carl relaxed his shoulders a little. "Alright. I get it."

Though on the surface he had Carl's acceptance of the matter, Rick did not breathe easy…he knew his son. Carl had more to say, that this wasn't over.

"Thank you," he said before the silence stretched on. "I'm sorry that you found out like this. It wasn't our intention," he added, thinking about what Carl had seen, what he had walked in on.

Carl's dynamic suddenly shifted, a change that put Rick on edge. He stood up a little straighter again, his arms crossing at his chest…Rick had been right, he wasn't finished.

"That wasn't how I found out."

Rick shifted his weight between his feet as a few things fell into place. Had should have seen this coming…Pete had made a fool of him. "Ron told you?"

"Yes," Carl confirmed, his voice becoming icy cold. "But I didn't believe him. I thought he was just being an asshole. That's why I came home."

Feeling immensely foolish, Rick gave a heavy sigh. "I'm sorry that happened," he said heavily, bringing his fingertips to the bridge of his nose. "Carrie and I were waiting back home for you. We wanted to tell you today."

Carl scoffed incredulously. "That didn't look like you were waiting."

"Carl…"

"You know what I said to Ron just now? I told him he was pathetic…I called him a liar. I said his head was so far up his own fucking ass he can't see anything but his own shit!" Carl yelled, his temper escalating again. "I defended you, and all along you were lying to me!"

"I explained this to you already."

"You made everyone else lie to me too!" he yelled. "That's fucked up Dad, seriously. It's so fucked up that I can trust Ron more than you!"'

"That's not true."

"It is! How am I supposed to trust you, you're a hypocrite! You punished me for lying to you, but it turns out you're the liar! You hear me Dad?" he shouted when Rick didn't respond. "You're a liar! A hypocrite!"

Rick held his gaze and stared him down. No matter how badly he wanted to yell and scream back at his son, to proudly defend himself in front of anyone else who happened to be watching, he knew that yelling back at him would never work. He couldn't rise to Carl's baiting, he couldn't react in kind lest the situation escalate any further. So instead he held his gaze and let the silence stretch on. Only when he was confident that Carl's temper had abated enough did he speak.

"You have the right to be upset. Yes, I lied to you," he calmly acknowledged. "But you are forgetting one very important fact."

His eyes still narrowed, Carl glared at him. "Oh yeah? What?"

"I do not answer to you. Is that clear?" he questioned, still holding his son's gaze. "You answer to me, that's how this works. Now I'm aware that I make some shitty calls, and that not everything I say and do is fair. Get over it…life isn't fair."

Carl sneered at him now. "That's deep. You should put that on a poster."

Ignoring this, Rick continued. "You can yell, scream, swear at me, hit me. Give me your worst," he invited, making himself clear. "But I do not answer to you. Is that clear?"

Looking away, Carl refused to even acknowledge that Rick had spoken, his icy behaviour reminding him of the last time they had fought like this. The day at the prison when he'd taken both of their guns and locked them away Carl had reacted badly, but even then Rick had been able to reason with him for a short time. They'd talked about it, he'd comforted him a little, and it was then that he allowed Carl to react however he needed to, which in that case had been with a great deal of anger and resentment. They were experiencing the same thing again, only this time it was worse. Carl was older now, he had a greater wealth of experiences to weigh him down…he also occupied the moral high ground in this case.

"You want to go out?" Rick asked, jerking his head back towards the gate.

There was a short pause, Carl's lips pursed as he glared at the road beneath their feet. As though he was furious that Rick was going to give him permission he shoved past him and headed for the gate himself. Picking his battles, Rick collected his knife and Colt that had been set aside and followed him towards the gate. Knowing that he had nothing to protect himself with he held the weapons out for Carl to take, ignoring the way he petulantly snatched them from him.

Resisting the temptation to tell him to not venture far, for that would only encourage him to do exactly that, he pulled back the screen and then opened the gate. The gate needed oiling, the heavy groans echoing what he felt inside, for allowing Carl to leave the walls alone and in such a state of high emotion went against everything he knew as a parent. Though he had weapons and Michonne not far, Rick would still worry…anything could happen out there, particularly when one was more focused on their emotions and turmoil than their safety.

"I want you back in an hour," he instructed, his tone leaving no room for argument. "Before dusk starts. There'll be hell to pay if you're late. Understood?"

Not responding, Carl walked straight past him and emerged into the world outside Alexandria, and he marched off without looking back. Rick began watching him go, but deciding not to torture himself he began to close the gate. As soon as the rattle was heard, Carl slowed to a stop and turned back.

"Hey, Dad," he called, waiting until he looked up. He yanked his hat off his head and tossed it to the ground. "Fuck you."

Carl was trying to provoke reaction, to arouse more anger, and so he chose not to react. After all, he did challenge him to give his worst. As he expected, frustration and annoyance crossed Carl's face, and he was too slow to hide it. He turned away and broke into a run, fleeing his home and the father who had wronged him. Relieved that it was over, but simultaneously aware that it wasn't, Rick closed the gate and locked it, pulling the privacy screen across and securing it into place. Carl's hat could stay there in the dirt for all he cared, it was the least of his problems right now.

Standing exactly where he was, he took a few deep breaths and tried to collect himself, fearing that he had done irrevocable damage to his relationship with his son. It had gone so wrong, and worst of all was the fact that everything Carl had said was right. Rick was a hypocrite, he deceived him while punishing him for the same thing. Despite days and weeks of trying to make sure it all went perfectly he had screwed it all up in spectacular fashion. All he wanted was to get this right, to juggle the multiple factors at play so that everything could go smoothly…but he had tempted fate, he had waited too long.

Forcing himself to go home and face the fall out, Rick squared his shoulders and began to return home, seeing that Carrie was still waiting for him at the intersection. She was holding Judith on her hip, reminding him of the cruel things Carl had said to her during the confrontation, and he wanted to make sure she was alright. They would have a lot to talk about, particularly something else that Carl had brought up. He had chosen not to tell her about the people from Ohio who had seen them together on the supply run, who had observed them sneaking away from their group early one morning. He'd seen no reason to tell her, for the news wouldn't have been any benefit…perhaps he should have.

The worst of it was over now, surely that was the case. Carl would cool off outside the walls, and then they could start working through this together, all three of them. He came to meet Carrie at the intersection, his heart clenching to see the anguish in her eyes, to see how upset she was. The need to reassure her was as great at his own need. He wanted to comfort her, to say something that would put her at ease, but he didn't know what. For that matter it seemed neither did she, for when he reached the intersection they simply looked at each other, neither knowing where to go from here.

Hearing a long whistle Rick turned around, casting his eyes about for whoever it was trying to get his attention. When they whistled again he located them, and it was with painful realisation that he looked towards the Infirmary. Pete was standing on the patio that overlooked the lake, leaning casually against the railing with a cup of coffee in his hands. When the two men made eye contact he cheerfully raised his mug and smiled, giving a friendly nod of the head. But Rick was not fooled, remembering what Carl had just told him had happened with Ron, remembering the apologies that had been so recently made. Pete was gloating ruefully, revelling in the argument that had just transpired in the middle of the street.

Pete was behind this…this was all him.

Livid, Rick clenched his fists as he set off towards the Infirmary, ignoring Carrie who called for him, trying to make him stop. All reason escaped him as he looked at the person who was causing all of his problems, the person who had intentionally done this to him. The anger he felt, the lack of control, the stress…it quickly came to a head now, and he knew exactly how to solve his problems. Pete was the root cause of everything, a disease that had been allowed to fester unnoticed until it had so much power it was uncontrollable. That's what Pete had right now, power. He'd exercised the power to tell Carl about Rick's relationship with Carrie, and soon enough he'd exercise his power to tell Carl about Judith too. It was only a matter of time before that happened, and Rick had to stop it for the sake of both his children.

"Rick, hold up!" Daryl implored, suddenly appearing by his side though he was meant to be on watch. "What you doing?"

"Fixing this," he growled, his anger escalating when Daryl darted in front of him and forced him to stop. "Get out of my way."

"No," Daryl shook his head, roughly grabbing him by the shirt when he tried to step around him. "You can't…"

"I have to!"

"You can't," he insisted, shaking him until he looked at him. "Maggie…you gotta think about Maggie and the baby."

Incensed, Rick grit his teeth while he glared at Daryl, shoving his hands off his shirt. Letting out an angry puff of air he looked back to the Infirmary porch, watching as Pete all but laughed in his face. He was still standing there with his cup of coffee, watching Rick intently. He'd made an absolute fool of him, he'd tricked him into a false sense of security, making him believe that he wanted their sons to mend fences. But he had orchestrated the whole thing, even without proof Rick knew that for certain. First the threats, then the guns he stole, now his son…Pete was fucking with him again, and this time Rick hadn't seen it coming.

"Pete is fucking with me," he said quietly, looking and Daryl and begging him to understand, to take his side. "He told Carl about me and Carrie."

"Yeah," Daryl nodded shortly, sparing Pete a cursory glance. "But that don' change nothin'. You can't kill him, not with Maggie and the baby the way they are."

" _My children_ ," Rick said emphatically, trying to make him understand. "I have to think about my children first. He could tell Carl everything! You said you'd back me up on this!"

Daryl would not be swayed. "I'm sorry, Brother. You gotta let this one go…or you gotta play it smart at least."

He wanted to argue, to shove his way past Daryl who had so recently pledged his support for whatever Rick needed, but the urge waned as soon as it developed. Not only were onlookers arriving on the scene, but so too was Deanna…he had missed his chance. As this realisation sank in so too did reality. What did he intend to do right then? Go into the Infirmary and beat Pete to death with his bare fists? He'd never be able to do that, not if Pete saw him coming, not with so many people around who could stop him. In the Infirmary Pete had the advantage, while Rick did not. Righteous rage would only get himself hurt, or killed.

"What's going on?" Deanna asked sternly, looking between he and Daryl and then to the Infirmary. Seeking refuge now that the attention was growing, Pete was heading inside, the patio door closing heavily.

Still watching the Infirmary Rick reluctantly stood down, seeing no other solution. "Nothing's wrong."

Deanna was not convinced. "Is this about the incident from earlier?" she enquired.

Frowning, Rick took a moment to process this remark, not understanding it at first. "Incident?" There was a long pause as he tore his eyes away from the Infirmary and looked to Deanna, seeing the hesitation in her eyes. "Deanna?"

She politely cleared her throat and turned to Daryl. "Forgive me, Daryl, but might I have a moment alone with Rick?"

"What incident?" he demanded now, his temper rising again.

Getting the hint, Deanna took a deep breath and then answered. "I was asked to exercise discretion until such a time she could tell you herself," she began apologetically. "Earlier this afternoon, there was an incident between Pete and Carrie, and incident I followed up on."

"Carrie?" Rick muttered to himself, his heart falling as he turned around and looked for her.

It was Judith he first set his eyes on, finding his daughter was now in Tara's arms, but as for Carrie? He could see only her departing form, just able to make her out as she headed for the western watch point to start her shift early. Clearly upset she was fleeing the confrontation, not knowing how to approach the awful turn of events. But that wasn't all that had happened today, the incident with Carl was a mere addition to something else…

"What the hell happened?"

* * *

A/N I hope you guys all enjoyed, and that the chapter fulfilled your long awaited expectations! Let me know what you think and how you feel by leaving a review. Next chapter should be out mid-next week, and picks up from Carrie's POV.


	41. Chapter 41

We spoke once about lovers who kept finding each other, no matter how many times the world came between them. And I think I had to break your heart, and you had to break mine. How else could we know the worth of what we were given?

Twin Flames - Lang Leav

* * *

The night was silent and still, the absence of any activity to which she could pay attention making it difficult for Carrie to maintain her concentration. Rubbing her eyes she tried to her best to remain alert and vigilant while she stood on watch, but like she anticipated she had tired quickly, not used to being awake at such a late hour. Restless and agitated, she abandoned the stool she had been sitting on and got to her feet, stretching her limbs out before turning on the solar powered lantern. The light was only soft, not bright enough to attract the attention of anyone or anything outside the walls, but it was enough to illuminate her wrist watch. Grateful that it was ten thirty, that she would be relieved in an hour and a half, Carrie picked up the night vision binoculars and assessed the world on the other side of the wall. It was quiet, just as it had been all evening, and so she made herself sit down again.

A little over four hours had passed since the truth came out, Carl having come home much earlier than she and Rick expected. Even hours later Carrie was still cringing at the thought of what he had seen, that he'd found she and his father in a passionate kiss. She pictured the gut wrenching expression on his face, the betrayal that flashed in his eyes when he saw them together. There was no explaining that with anything other than the truth, but it seemed Carl already knew, for the look on his face wasn't of surprise, but of hurt. In that moment he knew he had been lied to, that his father had been deceiving him for months, that his whole family had. Carrie couldn't blame him for his reaction, nor for the horrible things he had said. The initial confrontation had been horrible, and she felt completely powerless as she watched Rick and Carl arguing while knowing that she was part of the cause.

She played the moment over in her head again and again the ache in her chest grew, remembering the awful things Carl had said to her. He'd screamed at her to stay away from his sister, that she did she would never be Judith's mother. It was a hard notion to fathom, for although Carrie hadn't given much thought to that, clearly Carl had. As the guilt started intensifying, Carrie clenched her jaw and sucked in a deep breath. This was not her fault, and she told herself that repeatedly. She wanted to tell Carl over a week ago, but Rick had been the one who kept stalling. How many times had she warned him about the consequences of Carl finding out the wrong way? Rick had been adamant about what a big deal this would be to Carl, and yet he hadn't listened to Carrie's warnings, instead allowing his desire for the right time to take precedent over the risk. She knew that Rick's actions came only out of concern, for the desire to deliver this news in the best possible way, but she couldn't help blaming him for the situation they faced now.

Feeling herself getting worked up again she took another deep breath and held it, slowly releasing it a few minutes later. It was difficult being on watch after what happened, the task leaving her unable to do anything about it, to start fixing the problems. She had no choice but to wait until her shift was over, and perhaps even then they couldn't do anything until the morning.

Although she hadn't seen it with her own eyes, having not immediately followed when Rick went after his son, Carrie knew what had happened with them. She'd arrived on the scene just as Rick was letting him go from an embrace, one Carl had clearly been resisting, and Abraham and Rosita filled her in. Having been home next door they had heard the commotion then followed onto the street to make sure things didn't escalate, and it was them who told her that Carl had lashed out, that he'd tried to hit Rick. Still carrying Judith on her hip, she stood up the road and watched as father and son talked. At first it seemed like things would take a turn for the better, the two of them appearing to talk civilly despite the way they stood apart from one another, but the tension escalated quickly. Soon Carl was shouting again, and that's when she was able to hear exactly what he was upset about, and the revelation made her heart sink. As she listened to him explain, Carrie started to consider that maybe it was her who had screwed up the most.

Ron had been the one who told Carl about their relationship, Ron had schemed to get him alone to create the opportunity, an opportunity he wouldn't have had if Carrie had been honest with Rick. She didn't need to know any more to realise that Ron hadn't come to this idea on his own, that he wasn't the driving force behind this. This was all Pete…he had done this to them, and Carrie's dishonesty had allowed him to.

Keeping the earlier incident in the Infirmary from Rick had been the wrong choice. Her intentions had been good, for she only wanted to make sure that he didn't fly into a righteous rage. She had hoped that by the time she told him the issue would have been taken care of, that there was nothing more he could do and no reason to confront Pete. Despite this her good intentions had backfired on them both, her dishonesty allowing Rick to trust Pete's attempt to mend fences. He had trusted Ron's apology, he wanted he and Carl to repair their friendship and move on…he would have never allowed Carl to go and hang with Ron if he knew what Pete had said to Carrie that day. She should have said something earlier, she shouldn't have let him send Carl to hang out with Ron.

This was both of their fault.

What were they supposed to do now? Did they put on a united front and handle this together, as a couple? Or should they take things slowly, let Rick deal with Carl by himself at his own pace? Would that even be possible? The way things were in Alexandria Carrie doubted that very much. There was always something that came up, there was always drama and trouble of some kind, regardless of how small the community was. Thinking about this, Carrie groaned to herself, thinking about the ongoing problems with Pete. After allowing Carl to leave the walls and cool down alone Rick had started returning to her, but the sight of Pete on the Infirmary porch had incensed him. There was no doubt that Pete had been watching the argument in amusement, enjoying the spectacle of Rick and his son fighting…he blamed Rick for his separation from Jessie, for empowering her to kick him out. The way he treated Carrie that day and the look on his face then left no doubt in her mind. He enjoyed what he saw. He wanted to see Rick's relationship with his son suffering.

If it hadn't been for Daryl she was certain that Rick would have confronted Pete, that another fight would have broken out. She was immensely grateful to Daryl, for the way he knew exactly what to say to make Rick stand down, for if a fight were to break out now it would be him at fault. This time he would be the aggressor and Pete the victim, not the other way around. Rick would not let this go, he would keep pushing and pushing until the only way left to handle Pete was exactly what he wanted the first time.

Rick would kill him…somehow he would make sure that Pete died with him remaining blameless for it.

As this worrying thought occurred to her, Carrie got back to her feet and started pacing the platform again. If Pete didn't stop causing problems, Rick was going to kill him, she was certain of that. Pete had already threatened to tell Carl about Carrie, and now that secret was out the only leverage he had over Rick was Judith's paternity. If Pete tried to use that against Rick, he would be a dead man very quickly. She had no doubt that if that threat became any more real, the issue of Maggie and her baby would no longer be a priority.

Thanks to the silence of the night Carrie managed to hear the approach of someone within the walls, and though not alarmed by someone taking a late night walk she turned and looked around. Her eyes well adjusted to the darkness she observed a tall figure making their way from her home towards her post on the western wall, and she could tell from their graceful gait that it could only be Michonne. Though it was likely she was coming to take over watch early, for which Carrie ought to be grateful, she was disappointed. There had been a glimmer of hope that maybe, just maybe, Rick was coming. She didn't know his whereabouts following the argument with Carl and the near confrontation by the Infirmary, only able to assume he was at home with Judith.

"You're early," she commented as Michonne began climbing the ladder.

"I couldn't sleep any more," she answered softly, reaching the top and removing her katana from over her shoulder. "I thought I'd relieve you early."

Carrie normally would have insisted that she go back home, that she try to get some more rest before she took the remainder of the night, but this time she did not. "Thank you," she said sincerely, her heart still heavy. "I'm sorry we woke you this afternoon."

Knowing that she was referring to the argument with Carl, Michonne nodded in understanding. "He's okay," she reassured her softly. "He's spending the night at Tobin's place, sleeping on the couch."

Carrie laughed under her breath, a bitter sound. "Jesus…I bet Rick loved that."

"He wasn't enthused."

"Carl won't even stay with Glenn and Maggie?"

"No. He seems pretty mad at them too. All of us, actually."

"Did he talk to you today? While you two were outside?"

Michonne shook her head. "I didn't even try. He wanted to be left alone…he was angry enough that I was following him, he didn't need me interfering even more."

"Oh," she said sadly. She couldn't help but imagine Carl curled up on Tobin's couch, laying wide awake as he seethed in righteous anger. As she pictured this she forced herself to breath deeply, her emotions from everything starting to build up already. "I'm sorry, Michonne. I didn't want it to go this way."

"I know," she said kindly, putting her hand on Carrie's shoulder. "Neither did Rick."

"Yeah…"

"He's still awake you know. It's been a long night for him too."

Understanding what she was getting at, that this was her cue to go home and sort things out, Carrie began collecting her few items and slipped them into her satchel. They made the change over easily, Michonne taking Carrie's place and radioing the others to let them know an early change had been made. As Michonne got settled and set out her travel mug of coffee and a couple of snacks, Carrie lingered by the ladder, hesitating before she went down. Noticing this, Michonne asked if she needed help, if her broken wrist was making her unsteady, but Carrie shook her head. A broken wrist was the least of her problems right now…she didn't want to go home. She didn't know what she was going to say, how she and Rick were going to handle this. There was a fight coming, they had both screwed up at the other's expense. How they handled things now would set the precedent for the future, or for the next few days at least. This had to go smoothly.

With the satchel slung over her shoulder she carefully descended the ladder, thanking Michonne when she shone a flashlight down to guide her steps. When she reached the bottom she gave her a grateful nod, hoping to convey that she was grateful for more than the flashlight. She allowed herself a moment of hesitation, of dread and apprehension, and then she slowly set off towards home. Just as she had that afternoon she made her way through the lush gardens, stopping to admire the yellow tomatoes that would soon ripen. When the time passed midnight it would be the first of June, the first day of summer. Carrie had always loved the summer, and had been looking forward to spending this one with Rick and his kids…she wondered if it would be that simple and easy now.

As she came closer to home she noted the soft glow that came from the edges of the blinds on the living room windows, the light indicating that someone was indeed still awake. To her surprise she also found Daryl awake, occupying his usual spot on the porch railing as he kept unnecessary watch over his family, ever vigilant.

"Is Rick still awake?" she asked quietly, unable to see much through the shadows on his face.

"Livin' room."

Pausing, she was hesitant to ask her next question. "Is he very mad?"

Daryl shrugged unhelpfully, stubbing out his cigarette in the ashtray. "Dunno. He shouldn't be, he just chain smoked two o' these."

Carrie didn't even react to this latter statement. She knew that Rick had taken up smoking, and that he was too proud and self-righteous to admit it. On nights like this she couldn't care less what he did to his body, that was his problem, she just wished he'd own up and admit to it. If Carl found out about this too, Rick was indeed inviting the accusation of hypocrisy.

Quietly entering the house, Carrie braced herself for the impending discussion. She closed the front door behind herself and went to the safe first, opening it and divesting herself of her weapons. It was a ritual undertaken upon every return home, a routine that gave her a small sense of control, that she had taken care of something so simple. As she entered the kitchen she glanced into the living room, finding that Rick was sitting on the couch. He had his back to her, but there was no doubt in her mind that he was waiting for her, that he had been waiting there for most of the evening. Stalling, she took her water bottle and empty snack container from her satchel and loaded them into the dishwasher, her empty travel mug too. Finally she could stall no longer, and even though the coward in her wanted to go to bed and leave their problems for the morning, she slowly entered the living room.

Though Rick was seated on the couch, his body language was anything but relaxed. He leant forward with his elbows on his knees, his head bowed and each of his hands clenched into a fist. On the coffee table sat a heavy duty laptop computer and the baby monitor, the screen illuminated to show Judith was sleeping contently in her crib. Standing there expectantly, Carrie waited for him to acknowledge her presence, and when he finally did she made the effort to soften her body language. But it was a courtesy he did not return, his features taut with frustration, his eyes lacking their usual warmth.

"We need to talk," he said shortly.

Taking note of his tone, Carrie held her breath as she nodded in agreement. "I was hoping it could be…civil?"

"You're expecting it not to be?" His tone was defensive now, his brow furrowing.

"I'm expecting a fight…" she said quietly. "Judging by your tone of voice that's what I'm going to get."

"You're taking offence to my tone of voice?"

Carrie didn't respond to this, choosing instead to hold her tongue. It hadn't even been thirty seconds, and already they were going at one another, both of them defensive and frustrated. Instead she cleared her throat and then took a deep breath, catching a distinct smell of tobacco.

"Are you okay?" she asked, changing her approach.

To her surprise, Rick didn't answer her. Rather he looked at her peculiarly, his thoughts difficult to read. "Why didn't you tell me what happened with Pete?" he asked quietly.

She gave a short sigh. "Deanna told you?"

"That's all you have to say?"

"Well, I…" she started defensively before trailing off. She took a moment to think, to collect her words. The incident with Pete felt like so long ago. "I did the right thing at the time."

"The right thing?" he questioned, beginning to raise his voice as he got to his feet. "That prick offered you a backyard abortion, and you didn't think to tell me?"

Her voice caught in her throat, startled by the anger in his voice. "I got what I needed, you know that."

"I don't give a shit about the contraception, this is about Pete," he hissed. "If I'd known he was escalating like this, I would have never let Carl hang out with Ron, never! You should have told me."

"Okay, but h-"

"Pete is behind this! He convinced Ron to tell Carl about us. You know he's doing everything he can to fuck with me, and you still don't tell me what happened?"

To her surprise she managed to remain calm. "It was the right choice at the time."

"For Christ's sake, the things he said to you? What would you let him get away with that?"

"I didn't let him get away with it, I handled him."

"How? By having _Deanna_ tell him to be nicer? She's the one who let him continue beating Jessie. That's what you call handling him?"

"Not everything needs to be a loud confrontation in the street. I was subtle about it. I was trying to protect you."

Giving a horrified laugh, Rick looked at her incredulously. "Protect me from Pete?" he questioned. He gestured to his face now, which still bore a few of the white strips of tape on his cuts. "I can handle him just fine, thank you for your concern."

Her anger escalated at his condescension, and she stopped holding back. "I was protecting you from yourself!" she snapped at him, hoping that would make him listen. "How would you have reacted if I told you?"

"I would have fucking hit the roof!" he growled. "I wou-"

"That's my point. I know you, Rick. I know how you would have reacted, and that's exactly what Pete was looking for. I didn't tell you, because you would have played right into his hands and given him what he wanted."

"Well he's got that now! He's fucking with me, Carrie. I might as well bend over and let him have at me!"

She ignored this remark. "Reacting like that would have made everything worse. If you went after him, Carl still would have found out about us the wrong way, you would have been forced to tell him in the middle of it."

"At least he would have heard it from me," he implored. "He would have heard it from his father, not Ron."

She paused only for a moment. "Well, whose fault is that?"

Rick looked at her in surprise, his mouth agape. "Excuse me?"

"I said, whose fault is that?"

"You should have told me what happened," he hastened to remind her. "I wouldn't have let Carl go if you told me."

"And you should have told Carl the truth weeks ago. You kept putting this off."

"You think I asked for this? You think I asked to brawl with Pete, for him to steal my guns, for the Wolves to find our safe house? I didn't ask for any of that."

"Stop making excuses!" she finally yelled at him, clenching her fists as she resisted the urge to pick something up and throw it. "I'm sick of hearing them. You managed to come up with something every time!"

Growling angrily under his breath, Rick turned away and swore, beginning to pace back and forth. "Don't start this again! Stop accusing me of delaying this on purpose, you know that's not what I've been doing!"

"Well it feels that way."

"Do you think I don't understand the frustration you're feeling? I'm feeling the same thing, only I've got more at stake. My children are stuck right in the middle of this, both of them. I wanted to handle this properly, you know I did!"

"Yet you didn't."

Rick stopped in his tracks, his face falling as he realised she had backed him into a corner, that he had no way out. "So what happened today is my fault?"

Every part of her told her to say _no_ , to be kind by alleviating him of the guilt and remorse he was wracked with. "Yes."

He nodded slowly, not taking his eyes off her. "Well it's good to know where I stand with you."

Though she had known that blaming him would cause hurt, she wasn't quite prepared to see it, to carry the burden of intentionally hurting him like that. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you what happened with Pete…but I made the right decision at the time, a decision I made with you in mind."

He turned away from her, and when he raised his left hand to scratch his neck her eyes fell upon his wedding ring. They'd both been prepared for Lori's name to come up when they told Carl, but she'd not expected such blunt remarks about the fact that Rick wore his wedding ring while he was sleeping with another woman. Up until now it had made sense that he wear it, that it be part of their cover until he was ready to tell Carl. But now that it's presence had been verbally acknowledged it felt like the innocuous silver band was glaring up at her, mocking her.

"Pete did this," Rick began lowly, sounding as though he was making an effort to control his temper. "He targeted you, then Carl…next it's going to be Judith."

She knew what he was trying to do, that he was trying to deescalate their argument and get them both back onto the one side, but Carrie wasn't done yet. His condescension still stung, and she wasn't satisfied to end their argument.

"How do you know what he said to me?"

"Deanna told me."

"No, Deanna would have told you there was an incident, that he refused me treatment because of my friendship with Jessie. I didn't tell anyone the things he said to me, that he told me to have an abortion, not even Denise. So how do you know?"

Rick sighed and looked at her expectantly. "How do you think I know?" he asked, gesturing to the laptop on the coffee table.

She sighed under her breath, realising what he had done. "You bugged the Infirmary?"

"Of course I did. How do you think I knew Ron was sneaking alcohol to him? How do you think I can make sure he's treating Maggie properly?"

"Well spying on people is just your go-to method, am I right?" she chided him. "First Deanna, then-"

"You're still on your high horse about that?"

"You still think you have the moral high ground?"

"I don't give a shit about morality." He turned away and started pacing again, moving his body about to expel restless energy. "Pete is violent and manipulative, and he has some pretty heavy leverage over my family. Yes, I am going to spy on him. I need to know what he's doing, I have to protect my kids from him, but clearly I've fucked up again!"

There was a long pause now, Carrie's mind being cast back to her earlier thoughts about Pete, about the extremes Rick might go to in order to protect his kids. The animosity between the two men was escalating too quickly for any of them to properly control, and if something wasn't done to neutralise it she knew what was going to happen.

"You can't kill him."

Rick gave almost no reaction to this, a reminder of how normal it was for him to talk about murder. "I might have to."

"You can't," she insisted.

"He knows about everything!" he reminded her, looking her in the eye again. "He knows about Judith, he told Ron about her too, they talked about it today. I called their bluff once, and I can't call it again, not with my daughter at stake."

Carrie scoffed at this. "So, what? You'll kill them both? Maggie's doctor and a fifteen year old, just on the chance that they might talk?"

He didn't hesitate. "If I had to, yes."

Shaking her head in exasperation, Carrie looked away. "I don't believe you."

"We've talked about this before…back when we first met. I'll do whatever I have to do to protect my children."

"But Pete is not threatening their life! He wouldn't hurt them."

"He's threatening to ruin every memory Carl has of Lori. Do you think I won't kill someone to protect Carl's happiness? "

"You can't let Carl know his mother was a human being?"

"No, I can't," he agreed sharply. "I also won't let my daughter ever question who she is, who her family is."

"You're her father in every way that matters, she'll know that."

As he slowed his pacing to a stop Rick appeared to back down, though only at first. "I don't know why I'm wasting my breath," he muttered, glancing at the baby monitor which showed Judith sitting up in her crib. "You don't understand, and I can't expect you to."

"Why? Because I'm not a mother? Is not having children some kind of flaw to you?"

"That's not what I said, so don't put words in my mouth," he warned softly. "But yes. You're not a mother, so you can't understand."

"That's bullshit!"

"I'm not trying to be unkind, I'm just telling it like it is," he insisted, trailing off and looking at the monitor when Judith started coughing. "You don't understand what I'm willing to do for my children."

She bit her tongue, holding back her desire to keep arguing. Instead she chose a different track. "Killing Pete…maybe it's one less problem for you, but it comes at too great a cost. Maggie has preeclampsia. She or the baby could die, maybe both. What do we do then?"

"We will handle it. We always handle it."

"Like you handled it when Lori gave birth?"

The moment she said this she knew she had crossed a line, Rick's face falling. He held her gaze and then looked away, hurt crossing his features. "That's a bit fucking low," he said cooly.

"What about Ron?" she countered, continuing to press him. "It's one thing to kill someone equally matched to you, but a child? You kill a child in cold blood, and there's no coming back from that. That's not something you can take back."

"You think I don't know that? Of course I know that crosses a line…but it's a line I will cross to protect my children from the truth."

"I don't believe that," she said kindly.

"You think I haven't already? That I wouldn't do it again?"

This time Carrie chose not to say anything. Their argument was going nowhere, they weren't making any progress. There was a long pause, the silence deafening until Judith's coughing turned into a long groan. A soft whimper passed her lips, the monitor lighting up and drawing Rick's attention. He swore under his breath, clenching his eyes shut before turning back to Carrie.

"Carrie, we've both fucked up here," he said candidly, his voice taut with emotion. "But we're meant to be together in his, you're meant to be on my side."

"I am," she insisted, and then reconsidered. "But not in this case. I can't support you killing Pete…I can't support you killing anyone in cold blood."

From the monitor Judith's whimpering became louder, ceasing only for another long groan. She released a loud cry now, one that slowly died down before starting up again. Leaving their argument without an adequate conclusion, Rick started off towards the hallway.

"I have to protect my children," he told her bluntly as he passed by. "Either you support me in that, or you don't."

Without another word he disappeared, leaving Carrie standing in the middle of the living room, feeling worse than she had before. Nothing had been resolved, though they'd done an excellent job of blaming and alienating one another. Forcing herself to keep a hold of her emotions she sank down onto the couch where he had been sitting before, taking the baby monitor and looking at Judith. She was crying loudly now, tearfully calling out for Rick as she sat in her crib and looked into her lap. The image wasn't clear enough to make out details, but judging by her tears and Rick's haste to tend to her, Judith was still unwell. Rick was there seconds later, his arrival making her cries die down to a miserable whimper.

"What is it, Sweet Heart?" Rick asked, his forearms appearing on the screen as he leant against the crib railing. Judith replied in her usual babble, the words indistinguishable to Carrie, but not to Rick.

Surprised by how easily he could switch from an argument with her to the tender way he soothed his daughter, Carrie watched on as he rubbed Judith's back and comforted her. She continued to cry for a little while longer, her hands pressed against her mouth until she puked again, and then her cries fell silent. Giving only a heavy sigh Judith seemed to settle, sitting in her crib covered in mess as she tried to make sense of what had happened. Still comforting her so well despite the argument he'd just had, Rick swept her up from the crib and disappeared from view on the baby monitor. A few moments later the soft sound of running water indicated that Rick was showering her again, tending to her needs despite all of the other problems he was facing right now.

Carrie set the baby monitor down on the coffee table and sank back into the couch, closing her eyes and she wearing rubbed her forehead. Following what had been a leisurely afternoon spent in bed with Rick, everything had fallen apart so very quickly. First Pete in the Infirmary, then Carl, now fighting with Rick. It left her feeling depleted, like she had nothing left in her to keep going…in that moment all she wanted to do was curl up and go to sleep, but another part of her warned to resolve things properly first. They would have to get used to fighting, every couple did it eventually, it just seemed they weren't entitled to such luxuries as a honeymoon phase. All they needed to do tonight was get themselves onto the same page, to not go to bed angry before they faced the next day. But was that possible? The things he had been talking about, the notion that he would kill both Pete and Ron in order to keep Lori's mistake a secret…Carrie didn't know if he meant that. Was that just an empty threat, or was it something he would follow through on?

Unsure of so many things right now, Carrie elected to stay where she was on the couch, to wait as long as it took for him to come back downstairs. Inevitably he would be down here, for if Judith had soiled her sheets he would need to get clean ones from the linen cupboard. They could talk quickly, for by then they would have both cooled down enough, their tempers having surely abated by then. When she heard footsteps descending the stairs she got up from the couch, bracing herself and removing her hair from its ponytail. She knew Rick liked seeing it loose, having become accustomed to the way his eyes roved over the lengths, the way he trailed his fingers through it, and tonight she needed anything in her corner to soften his hard emotions. But when she got the hallway and saw the figure coming downstairs she was disappointed, finding that it was Daryl with Judith on his hip, not Rick. Wondering how she had missed him coming into the house, she watched dejectedly as he and Judith went into the laundry and dumped her soiled sheets into the sink.

"Is she okay?" Carrie asked when they came out. It would be a horrible twist if Judith suddenly required the care of a doctor.

"Yeah," Daryl grunted.

As they came into the kitchen she looked at Judith critically, noting that despite the bags underneath her eyes she appeared wide awake and alert, happily sitting on Daryl's hip as he opened the pantry door. She was naked but for her diaper, likely a precaution to prevent her soiling more clothes.

"She's fine," Daryl assured her again, noticing her concerned scrutiny. "Askin' for food already."

Confirming Daryl's remark Judith started protesting when he removed a jar of crackers, pointing instead to the jar of chocolate chip cookies next to it. When Daryl refused she screwed up her face and let out a low cry, even managing to summon up some tears in her attempt to convince him she needed the cookie. Though he ignored her protests, he some how managed to smear a little peanut butter onto the cracker while still holding her on his hip, and when he passed it to her with a stern warning to behave, Judith complied. As if nothing had been wrong in the first place she took the cracker and bought it to her mouth, happily licking off the peanut butter before biting into it.

"Where's Rick?" Carrie asked, still waiting for him to come down. "Is he…"

"Couple more people coming down sick, so he's takin' a morning watch. I told him to get some sleep."

"Oh," she said softly, wondering if that was a good idea. With everything going on right now, the last thing Rick needed was to be tied to a watch post for the first six hours of the day. "You're going to stay up with her all night?" she enquired to Daryl, still thinking that Judith looked wide awake.

He shrugged, unconcerned. "Maybe," he grunted, watching Judith carefully as she ate the cracker. He suddenly raised his eyes to Carrie, scrutinising her now. "He's still awake."

"Thanks," she said softly, though she hesitated before she actually departed. For just a little longer she looked at Judith, observing the way she picked up the crumbs that had fallen onto her belly and brought them to her mouth. The accusation Carl had made earlier still sat with her, his cruel words that she was not going to be Judith's mother having been difficult to hear. She knew that it was a subject that would be a sore point, that her relationship with Rick deepened her relationship with both of his children despite Carl's dissatisfaction.

 _"You can fuck my dad all you want, but you're not her mom!"_

With these words still ringing through her head Carrie softly bid Daryl goodnight and left, just catching a glimpse of Judith raising a chubby hand to farewell her in return. The gesture that would have normally warmed her heart was lost on her tonight, part of Carrie already trying to distance herself from Judith now that Carl had made his feelings on the matter perfectly clear. Doing the only thing she could to get this awful weight off her chest she climbed the stairs and mentally ran through the things she wanted to say to Rick. She would apologise for their argument, for not reading the situation and realising she should tell him about Pete…if he was smart Rick would apologise too, profusely. At the very least they could clear the air, and at best they could make up a little, they could get back on the same page as to how they would handle Carl.

As she reached the landing she was relieved to see Rick's bedroom door slightly ajar, but after stepping through Judith's safety gate and closing it behind herself she paused. There were a series of footsteps in quick succession, and a shadow appeared in the dim light. Before she could take a step or say his name Rick's bedroom door closed, the abrupt clunk echoing through the silent hallway.

Standing there in complete darkness, Carrie couldn't help but fear he did that on purpose.

* * *

A/N I'm so sorry for posting later than usual this week, and for the rather short chapter too. I had to choose between posting a short chapter now, or posting a longer chapter sometime next week. Fingers crossed that I get the next chapter out in the next 3-4 days (which is on schedule). Thanks for your patience all, and please do leave a review to let me know what aspects you are/aren't enjoying. Thanks :-)


	42. Chapter 42

The next morning Carrie awoke with a heavy weight upon her shoulders, the type that had prevented her from getting much sleep the night before. In spite of her intentions to bury the hatchet with Rick the night before, they had both gone to bed with the argument unfinished, both of them having said too much and resolved nothing. It was a horrible feeling, particularly given that it could have all been prevented.

When the early morning sun crept through the gaps in her blinds, Carrie dragged herself out of bed and washed her face, wishing she had been able to properly sleep that night. Knowing what she needed to do she didn't bother changing out of her pyjamas, and made only a heart hearted effort at making her bed before she left her bedroom. She needed to see Rick, and though it was well before his watch shift that would start at six o'clock she could hear him bustling around in his bedroom, getting ready for the day. Trying not to dwell on the way he had closed the door on her last night, though in hindsight he probably didn't realise she was out there, she knocked politely and awaited his response.

At his invitation she opened the door and stepped, finding him slipping a shirt on over his shoulders as he readied himself for the day. He looked at her strangely, his expression and emotions guarded as if expecting her to launch into an argument immediately. Hating that he seemed to be braced for that behaviour, Carrie paused and considered what she was going to say, getting the feeling she would have to start first. As this thought she glanced at Judith's crib, noting that it was still bare of sheets.

"You're starting awfully early," she noted, glancing at her watch. "It's barely after five."

"I'm going out," he said shortly, tucking his shirt into his jeans and turning away from her.

From his bureau he picked up his duty belt and slung it around his waist, securing the buckle and then slipping the leather loops around to secure it to his regular belt just the way he liked. As she watched him getting ready she tried to gauge what he was thinking, getting a distinct feeling that this conversation and her presence were unwelcome.

"What are you going out for?"

"The watch saw Buttons last night. He's close by, so we're going out to look for him."

"Is that really a good idea?" she asked, unable to help herself. "With everything going on, the Wolves, half the community sick…"

"Having a horse will save us a lot of gasoline."

"I thought you had a shift on watch."

"I will handle it," he said shortly, glancing up at her as he sat down and pulled on his boots. "And it's my call."

Carrie grit her teeth, feeling her hackles raised immediately. Clearly he was not in a receptive mood, and so she turned on her heel and walked out, making her discontent quite clear. She ignored him when he called her name, returning his rudeness. When she went back inside she closed her bedroom door and locked it, preventing him from following her if the desire to apologise struck him. Better to let any regret fester away inside him, reminding him of the problems he had created for the both of them.

Secure on her high horse, Carrie slipped a plastic bag around her cast and took a long shower, grateful that they didn't need to conserve water in Alexandria. All she wanted in that moment was to hide away from the problem for just a little while, for it was clear to her that nothing had been resolved from her fight with Rick last night. Nothing had changed over night, neither of their tempers had cooled despite what she had hoped, and so maybe a little more time was what they needed.

She came out of her room only when she was certain that Rick had departed, having watched from her bedroom window as he made his way up the street to join the others who were going to look for Buttons. Ever careful he was wearing a heavy jacket despite the heat, taking precautions to protect himself from whatever might happen. As she watched him go it suddenly hit her that he was going outside of Alexandria, that he was leaving the safety of the walls when their last moment with one another had been tense and unkind. It made her want to go to him, to set aside the fact he owed her an apology just so they could leave on good terms. Surely he was thinking the same way too, for he too was concerned about what was happening between them, and with Carl too.

Despite her desire to make amends with him, even if just for now, Carrie missed her chance, watching on as Rick was met at the intersection by one of the cars, and he swiftly climbed into the back along with the others going out. Ten seconds later they were gone. With the taste of regret souring the start of her day, she took Olivia's laptop with her as she went downstairs and poured herself a cup of coffee, glad that Rick had at least set the machine to brew for everyone else. Skipping breakfast for now Carrie took her coffee and laptop out to the front porch, though she diverted her path and looked into the living room. Daryl and Judith were asleep on the couch together, light snores emanating from both of their mouths as they slept soundly.

Grateful that Rick had people supporting him like this, and simultaneously reminding herself that she too had the same people, Carrie went outside and sat down on the front porch, letting warmth of the first day of June warm her bare skin. Before she started her work she sipped at her coffee a little, glancing up the road towards the other side of the community. They were cramped for space these days, this being part of the reason for the ever expanding walls, but Carl had still managed to find another place to stay, somewhere that wasn't home. He'd spent the night sleeping on Tobin's couch, setting aside the fact that Tobin too must have lied to him at some stage.

Needing to take care of something she knew how to handle, Carrie opened the laptop and found the spreadsheet for the Inventory, still concerned about the amount of food supplies on the shelves, or the lack thereof. When she'd visited the other day some of the shelves had been bare, large empty spots that were normally abundant with food. Upon opening the armoury spreadsheet she quickly found the mistakes Michonne and Olivia had made the day before, relieved to note that they were easy enough to fix. Still cursing them for daring to mess with her precious spreadsheets Carrie felt herself starting to relax as she started making corrections, feeling satisfied when the graphs updated to reflect what they should have been. With that fixed easily enough she turned to the Pantry information and carefully considered the data, taking note of the scarce supplies that currently occupied the shelves. Switching to another tab she opened the information about the excess stock in the garage, and immediately breathed a sigh of relief.

The excess food supplies they had been keeping in the spare garage was depleted, but not enough to be a cause for concern. With this in mind Carrie continued investigating, wishing she had thought to get Olivia's handwritten notes to consult as well. By the time her first mug of coffee was finished and Daryl was awake inside Carrie had gotten to the bottom of her confusion, the clarification bringing her great relief. Alexandria wasn't low on food supplies, but Olivia had been getting tighter with the rations, encouraging the residents to make what they had stretch just a little further than they normally did.

Always careful with her job, Olivia was intentionally not filling the shelves in order to create the perception of depletion. It was a smart move, exactly the strategy that Carrie would have employed had she put any thought to the task. Residents were less likely to ask for more rations if they could see for themselves that the Pantry shelves were looking bare, if they were worried there wasn't much left. Given that they no longer had a run crew in operation from Aidan and Noah's deaths and the proximity of the Wolves, the need to take even more care with how they managed their supplies was crucial.

Despite the reassurance that Alexandria was not running low, Carrie's mind was not put completely at ease. If she knew Glenn at all, and she liked to think that she did, he would be planning another run, possibly even an extended run. Their community could only last for so long without a run crew scavenging food, medicine and supplies, there would eventually come a time that they simply had to get back to the task. At the very least they'd be checking out hospitals in the city, trying to gauge how safe or unsafe they might be to scavenge from. It was always difficult with large buildings like a hospital, the dark corridors a labyrinth of danger that could appear at any second. But with Maggie still showing signs of preeclampsia, surely Glenn thinking about the neonatal units nearby, concerned about Alexandria's lack of supplies suitable for a newborn. Suspecting that he was already planning another run, Carrie couldn't help but wonder why he hadn't brought it up with her. She knew that she was meant to be taking time off, that with her broken wrist she was somewhat of a liability when things got tough, but that shouldn't mean he not talk to her about this.

As she sat out on the front porch the community slowly came to life around her, activity growing as residents began emerging from their houses early, tempted by the warmth of the Sunday morning. Unable to share their happiness, Carrie contented herself with sitting on the porch waiting for Rick to return, hoping that when he was done looking for Buttons he would come by the house before taking his post on watch. It was a hopeful notion, for knowing him he would likely go straight to his post, but she waited anyway. None of those who had departed with him earlier had returned yet, and so she awaited his return, occupying herself with the book she had borrowed from him two weeks ago.

As she occupied her mind Carrie felt herself relaxing for the first time since the day before, since the incident with Pete in the Infirmary that started the sequence of events that followed. She needed to relax herself, to let go of any bruised pride and anger so that she could approach the situation with a level head. If Rick saw her doing that then he would too, and that was critical. They needed to resolve the fight from last night, and they needed to come up with a plan for how to deal with Carl. Rick must already have something in mind, but perhaps they needed to approach it together, as the loving couple they claimed to be…at the very least they should talk about what was going to happen. The way they handled Carl was important, for everybody concerned, but most of all for Carl. He was hurting, that's for sure, heart broken that his dad was moving on before he was ready for him to, and furious that he'd been lied to.

Her eyes growing a little tired, Carrie lowered the book and reached for her mug on the coffee table, grateful that Daryl had been thoughtful enough to fill it up for her when he poured his own. She could hear he and Judith inside, Judith happily babbling away at him as they ate breakfast together. As if nothing had been wrong yesterday, Judith sounded cheerful and content, having quickly recovered from her illness. Sipping her coffee and looking out across the streets of Alexandria, Carrie wondered if she ought to go inside and relieve Daryl of baby sitting duties, suspecting that although he was content with the little girl, he probably wanted to get out and go hunting. But there was no telling when Carol would be home from Bob and Natalie's house, and Carrie knew better than to offer her limited baby sitting skills for more than a few minutes.

 _"You can fuck my dad all you want, but you're not her mom!"_

Those horrible words were still ringing through Carrie's head, the accusation making her heart ache with guilt. Although she knew that in future she'd become more involved with Rick's children, the thought of becoming Judith's mother hadn't specifically crossed her mind. While she wasn't automatically opposed to the notion, willing to take any role Rick needed her to, Carl's reaction to it put quite a damper on it all. He had completely debunked the idea, and though she acknowledged it was all said in the heat of an emotional moment, she worried that he would feel that way for quite some time.

When she set her mug back on the coffee table and resumed her comfortable lounging on the love seat, Carrie happened to glance up just as she turned back to her book, and the sight of a familiar stride coming down the street made her heart leap. Rick was back, and he was stopping by the house before taking watch…this was their opportunity to quickly make amends, and perhaps she could even join him on watch where they could talk freely. But just as these hopeful thoughts occurred her heart sank, for she realised the familiar stride she saw from the corner of her eye wasn't Rick, but Carl.

She closed her book and slowly sat up again, and she held her breath as she watched Carl walking down the opposite pavement. His gait and posture was so similar to Rick's that at a distance she had mistaken him, and she wondered why shy hadn't noticed that similarity before. However she had no time to dwell on that thought, for as Carl made to cross the street he raised his head and looked down the road, a life long habit of checking for oncoming traffic. When he did his eyes passed over the front porch and found her sitting there, and he stopped abruptly in his tracks.

Carrie watched him apprehensively, the book clenched in her hands as she waited for him to say or do something, but he stood there like a deer caught in the headlights, frozen. The moment was excruciating, her mind racing as she tried to think of what to do, to figure out what was going to happen next. Would he come over to her? Was he willing to talk to her, even just a little? Or perhaps he had come home to talk to Rick, not realising that he was out right now.

Before she could come to any kind of decisive action Carl turned on his heel and strode away, his angry march still resembling his father's. He looked at her over his shoulder as he departed, his head held high and his shoulders tense, and his discontent with her was clear. Watching him go, she sank back into the seat with a long sigh, wishing that had gone a little better. Carl didn't want to talk to her, and judging by his hasty retreat he didn't even want to be around her right now. That was going to make things difficult later, perhaps necessitating that Rick handle the initial efforts to bring Carl around.

Staying out on the porch for only a minute longer, Carrie got to her feet and collected her things. She could still wait for Rick from inside the house, though perhaps after a small breakfast she would go down to the front gates and wait for him, catch him the moment he returned to the community. Returning to the kitchen she poured herself another cup of coffee and then topped up Daryl's, noticing that he seemed to need it that morning. Possibly having stayed awake half the night with Judith, Daryl seemed like he was struggling a little that morning, for although they ought to be used to getting by on little sleep these days, perhaps life in Alexandria had softened even him just a little. There were some shadows under his eyes, and though he was patient and kind with Judith who was refusing to eat her crusts without more peanut butter, Carrie could tell he was a little short on patience. He was probably hanging out for a cigarette…perhaps she could relieve him for a few minutes.

She began slicing herself a piece of bread to toast and offered Daryl some too, but before he could answer they were both alerted to the sound of the side door opening. Their suspicion was aroused immediately, for anyone with the authority to come into their home uninvited would use the front door. A split second later Daryl was marching into the hallway, Carrie setting down the bread knife to follow him, and she turned the corner just as his body language softened.

"Was wonderin' when you'd be home," Daryl remarked.

In the hallway Carl stepped into Carrie's line of sight, murmuring a soft apology until he looked up and saw her behind Daryl. Just like before there was another moment of excruciating tension, Carl staring at her with a sour expression on his face before he turned on his heel and left. The only relief was that this time Carl didn't leave completely, but instead headed for the staircase and went up, his feet thunderous with every step. Still feeling the sting of his resentment, Carrie glanced at Daryl as if he would afford her some sort of guidance, though she knew he wouldn't. It wasn't that he didn't care, but rather that he wanted to stay uninvolved, to be as impartial as possible so that Carl wouldn't see him as less of an enemy and more of an ally. Carrie knew that's how these things had to work, that ultimately their family had to align themselves with Carl so that he would come to them, that they could regain his trust.

Though she could tell Daryl was hanging for a cigarette, Carrie didn't offer to relieve him. She had to do this before she lost her nerve. Completely unprepared and full of doubt, she ascended the staircase and braced herself, taking a few deep breaths to calm her nerves and her temper too. It was one thing to lose her temper with Rick, but she couldn't afford to do that with Carl. When she reached the landing upstairs she hesitated, taking one last moment before she approached the threshold of the main bedroom. She listened to Carl moving around inside, but when she heard the sound of drawers opening and closing she came closer. Standing in the threshold and looking into the spacious bedroom she felt her heart sinking, the scene she found inside taking her completely by surprise.

Carl was opening and closing the drawers of the bureau he shared with Rick, depositing a handful of tee-shirts onto the bed alongside a messy pile of socks and underwear. It was obvious what he was doing, and yet she came further inside and asked anyway. "Carl…what are you doing?"

He stopped as he looked at her, a pair of jeans clenched in his fists as his mouth twisted into a snarl. "What does it look like?" he said sharply, dumping the jeans on the bed before turning away and marching into the walk in closet.

As she waited for him to return Carrie held her breath and listened to him rustling around in there, mentally trying to wrap her head around what was happening. Moments later he emerged and tossed his long sleeved gingham shirts and a jacket onto the pile of clothing. He went back inside and then came out with a large pack, the one he had used when they went on the supply run to Georgia.

"Listen, Carl…" she started, unsure of where she was going. "I know you probably don't want to talk to me right now, b-"

"You're right. I don't," he snarled. He began haphazardly stuffing his clothing into the pack, squashing it down to make enough room for everything.

"You can't just run away."

He sighed in annoyance. "I'm not stupid, I'm not running away. I'm just getting out of _here_."

Watching him with overwhelming sadness, Carrie felt a flicker of panic. She couldn't let him do this, it would devastate Rick. "Carl, please," she said urgently, coming into the room. "You don't have to leave…I can go," she bargained, willing to do whatever was necessary. "I'll leave."

"It's not you. It's him."

"Your dad won't let you move out," she told him, hoping to make him see reason.

Carl seemed unconcerned. "I know he won't. That's why I'm not asking for permission, I'm just going."

Going around to Rick's side of the bed Carl opened his nightstand and reached into the very back of the top drawer, glancing up at Carrie as he stood up with a small key in his hand. As if daring her to say something, he held her gaze before going to the shared bureau and slipping the key into the lock on the top drawer. Without remorse he opened it and began collecting the belongings Rick had confiscated from him earlier this week, taking back his comic books and iPod before leaving the drawer wide open. He wanted Rick to see that he had taken them, that he was rejecting his authority.

"Carl, you-"

"What?" he questioned abruptly, challenging her as he neatly packed his comics with his clothing.

Carrie faltered, not knowing how to handle this type of anger from him. "Where are you going?"

"Next door, to Maggie and Glenn's."

Breathing an internal sigh of relief, Carrie felt her sadness ease just a little…he wouldn't even be thirty feet away. "Have you asked them yet?"

"I don't need to, they won't say no," he muttered, though he clarified a moment later. "I mean, they'd send me home if Dad told them to, but only if he told them to."

"Please, just think this through. Doing this will hurt your dad, a lot."

"Good. I hope it does."

This remark momentarily stunned her, making her lose her train of thought. "That's unusually cruel coming from you," she slowly remarked, hoping that Carl took it back.

Carl's mind could not be swayed, and his impatience grew. "He deserves it," he declared, disappearing into the bathroom and then coming back out with his toothbrush and comb. "You get it, right? If it wasn't bad enough that he was fucking you-"

"Don't say that," she interrupted him, wishing he wouldn't refer to their relationship so crudely. "Your dad and I…it's not like that, okay?"

He stopped and looked at her, breathing heavily. "He says he's in love with you."

"Yes," she confirmed, knowing that Carl needed to hear that. "I love hi-"

"I don't care!" he suddenly yelled, cutting her off. "He lied to me for months, and now he expects me to just be okay with it? I had to hear it from Ron!"

Carrie did her best to stay in control, to stay calm. "That's not what we wanted to happen, you know that," she explained, coming to Rick's defence for something she so recently blamed him for. "Your dad's been trying to tell you for a while, he's been trying to find the right time."

No longer listening Carl rifled around in his nightstand, grabbing a Kit Kat bar he had stashed and then shoving it into his pack. Completely ignoring her, he took the photograph of he, Lori and Rick and put it into his pack too, safely wrapping it in one of his shirts before pulling the top draw string and closing the flap. She expected him to swing the bag onto his shoulder and leave, but instead he left it there on the bed and returned to the walk in closet, but this time he didn't come back out. Unsure of what to say or do, Carrie stood there and listened to him rifling around.

Her patience waning, she came further into the bedroom and approached the walk in closet, wondering what Carl was doing in there that took him so long. She found him sitting on the very top shelf and rearranging the things up there, and as she watched him she caught a glimpse of something familiar. It was a tin of seventy two Prismacolor pencils, a set Glenn had scavenged upon Carl's request over two months ago. He was stuffing it into Rick's old pack now, followed up with the two sketch books Glenn had found for him. His behaviour rather secretive, Carl added a tin of graphite pencils, then picked up a heavy shoe box and began slipping it in too.

"Carl, would you come down and talk to me? Please."

He whirled around at the sound of her voice, outrage crossing his face. "Carrie, get out!"

With an exasperated sigh she did as requested, flinching as he kicked the door shut after her. She scolded herself for intruding on his privacy, for perhaps whatever it was he had drawn or written in those sketch books was private…it had to be if he was going to effort to hide it in the packs that were only rarely used. She sure as hell wasn't going to get him to listen to her if she did something like that.

"I'm sorry," she apologised when he came out a minute later, his expression thunderous.

"Whatever."

"Wait, please," she implored, stepping in his way when he picked up his pack and headed for the door. "Carl, you don't have to leave, I'll will. I know I'm the problem here, so I should be the one to go."

Stopping, Carl gave a great sigh and then looked up at her, and he almost seemed sympathetic. "I don't give a shit about you."

She flinched, having not expected to hear something like this coming from him. Perhaps he saw the hurt cross her face, for he hastened to explain.

"You know what I mean, alright?" he explained impatiently. "I didn't mean that I don't care about you."

"Then what did you mean?" she asked, just glad he was talking to her.

"I mean, you're not the problem. He is."

"I know you're upset that we lied about us, you have every right to be."

"You're not listening!" he groaned. "You're not the problem."

She blinked in confusion, holding her breath as she asked, "Then what is?"

Carl paused, and then with an impatient sigh he let his pack fall from his shoulder and hit the ground. "He's a _hypocrite_ , that's the problem. He lies to me, all the time."

"No, he-"

"He always lies to me!" he said emphatically. "I asked him about you, and he lied. He lied about the fact that I really did kill that Wolf I shot, he lied about looking after Jessie. And he - he said things were going to change when we got back from Georgia. He said he'd have more time for me and Judith."

"He's trying," she tried to assure him, knowing of Rick's intentions. "He's going to-"

"Well he's not, is he? He doesn't spend any time with us, he's always out doing something else, and he promised!"

"Carl…"

"But he's got plenty of time to spend with you, hasn't he!"

There was a long pause, Carrie unsure of how to respond to that accusation. "He's not perfect, I know. And yes, he's lied to you on occasion, but that doesn't justify saying he lies all the time."

Carl would not be swayed. "I know he lied to me about my Mom."

Though she'd so recently downplayed the impact of the truth about Lori's mistake, Carrie's heart faltered. "What do you mean?" she asked, praying he didn't bring up Judith's name.

"He lied about what happened to her body," he said lowly, his hurt evident in his voice. "He told me Daryl and Glenn buried her, but I know they didn't. A Walker got to her first…there wasn't anything left to bury."

"I'm sorry," she said softly. "I didn't know that. He probably wanted to protect you."

"I don't want him to protect me! I want him to tell me the truth."

"He's trying," she implored, wishing that Carl could understand. "But there's so much working against him, including you."

"He deserves it. I got punished for lying to him and Daryl," he said abruptly, thrusting out his hands and showing her the blisters and callouses from the hard labour he'd been undertaking. "But he's doing the same thing, all the time. How is that fair?"

"It's not fair," she agreed softly. "But neither is it that simple. He's your father, and he's doing his best."

Carl just rolled his eyes, picking up his pack and slinging it over his shoulder. "I knew you'd side with him, of course you would," he muttered as he shoved past her. "Well the joke's over. I'm done being lied to."

Following as he went downstairs she kept at him, hoping she could convince him to stay, that despite everything she knew about him she could have some sway over his decision. "So, you're going to punish your dad for not being perfect? For making mistakes?"

"What do you even care?"

She raised her eyebrows at this, still following him as he entered the living area downstairs. From the corner of her eye she watched Daryl who stood in the kitchen, observing the way he started towards Carl when he saw his pack. She held her hand up to him, requesting that he wait.

"You sound shocked that I care about you," she stated calmly, her tone capturing Carl's full attention. "Like it or not I do care about you, and not just because I love your dad."

Carl's lip curled at this. "Can't you just take this as a good thing? I'm leaving, so you can have him all to yourself."

"Don't be petty. You know that's not what we want."

Carl ignored her, cutting off any further conversation as he strode through the front door and slammed it as hard as he could. The force made the windows rattle, Judith giving a surprised squeak as she dropped her cup of water onto her highchair tray. Barely a moment passed before Daryl started forward to the front door, his fists clenched and his shoulders tense, and Carrie knew what he was going to do.

"Don't."

The softly spoken word was enough to stop him in his tracks, making him whirl around and look at her in surprise. "You gon' let him treat you that way?" he questioned.

She swallowed heavily, noticing for the first time that her hands were trembling. "Yes."

He wouldn't hear of it. "Nuh. Ain't happenin'," he grunted, reaching for the door knob.

"Daryl, I said don't," she repeated, her voice a little stronger. He looked at her incredulously, unable to believe that she was backing down from this. She turned and looked through the kitchen window, watching as Carl crossed the front porch of the second house and let himself inside without knocking. "How could you possibly make him do anything right now?"

"I'll tell yah how, I'll fucking knock his teeth in," he threatened.

Taking a few steps back, Carrie shook her head decisively. "He knows you'd never lay a hand on him. Leave him alone."

Ignoring the remainder of his protests, Carrie turned on her heel and went back up stairs. She passed by the master bedroom and glanced inside, her chest aching to see the state Carl had left it in, the drawers of his nightstand left open, a lone sock dropped onto the floor. The top drawer of the bureau was still ajar, Carl's message to Rick that he had taken back his confiscated belongings. Turning away from it all Carrie retreated back into her bedroom and set about a process she knew would help relieve the chaotic emotions. It would be dangerous to go outside the walls alone, to be hindered by a broken wrist with only her non-dominant hand with which to defend herself, but she didn't care.

She slipped into her workout gear and clumsily tied the laces on her sneakers, grabbing her iPod and earphones at the last minute. Back downstairs she avoided eye contact with Daryl, not wanting to initiate further debate about how to handle Carl's departure. It was an unhelpful approach to take, but right now she could care less about how they were going to handle it. That would be Rick's problem, a problem his own inaction had brought onto himself. It was up to him to fix this now, not her. Taking a bottle of water, she reluctantly took her gun out of the safe and fumbled with the holster, awkwardly securing it around her leg even though she knew it would drive her crazy as she jogged. Also taking her preferred weapon, she secured a machete and holster to her other hip.

When she left she didn't even say goodbye to Daryl, and she avoided looking at Judith all together. An awful pressure was building inside of her chest, the emotions welling up and asking to be released, but first she needed solitude. While normally she would have rejoiced in the first day of summer, in the warm sun on her bare shoulders, today she lowered her head and hastily made her way through the community, not wanting anyone around to think they should strike up conversation. By now everyone knew what had happened with her, Rick and Carl, for gossip spread like wildfire in this small community. There was never any doubt that Rick and his choices were the scandal of the moment, what with his handling of Aidan and Noah's deaths, the Wolves, Pete and Jessie, and now Carl.

She was halfway to the gate when she heard it opening, the sound bringing her attention to the soft rumble of a car's engine on the other side. Looking up she felt both a mixture of relief and annoyance to see that those who had departed were returning, for right now the last thing she wanted was scrutiny, particularly from Rick. There would be no hiding the fact that she was upset, her emotions surely written all over her face. She kept her head bowed as she strode towards the gate, her eyes darting up as she avoided the path of the returning vehicles. Not even the sight of Buttons being proudly led inside the walls by Michonne was enough to bring her any sort of relief, and so she didn't stop to congratulate them for catching her.

As she passed the vehicle that was rolling to a stop the rear passenger door opened, Rick stepping out and looking at her in apprehension. "Carrie, what's going on?"

She glanced up at him, the look of concern on his face making her throat tighten. Despite the fact that she blamed him for what had happened, she wasn't the only one having a difficult time with all of this. Nevertheless she didn't trust herself to speak, to hold herself together in front of so many people, and so she looked away and kept on walking.

Embittered with her avoidance, Rick slammed the car door and followed her. "Dammit Carrie, would you just talk to me? Carrie!"

Though there was no music playing yet she slipped her earphones in and broke into a run, her holsters bouncing against her legs as she burst outside the walls into the world beyond. She could still hear him calling out to her, his voice more frustrated with every shout, but soon she was out of ear shot. It was blessedly easy to fall into her old jogging routine, her feet taking her down the path she always took when she came out of the walls for what used to be an almost daily activity. This was the first time she had come out for a run since she had broken her wrist, the burdensome cast making her feel a little off balance until she hit her stride.

Unlike her usual routine of a slow jog that she could sustain, today she was sprinting, the streets and trees flashing by in her peripheral vision. She was being irresponsible, knowing that she should have made a slow lap of the walls to check things out, that she should be taking more care to keep an eye out for Walkers, but self-preservation felt less important than releasing the chaos inside. This was everything she needed right now, the burning of her lungs and the wind whipping back her loose hair distracting her from everything that was happening.

She made five wide laps of Alexandria before she slowed to a stop in the middle of a wide street, her body trembling with the sudden exertion she hadn't warmed it up for. Restless but exhausted, she rocked her weight back and forth between her feet as she raised her hands and clasped them together behind her head, breathing deeply as she tried to slow her heart rate a little. Possessing just enough mind to look around first, she closed her eyes and breathed deeply for a few moments, feeling her heart beat in her chest, the trembling of her legs and knees. She knew what was about to happen, and when the tears finally spilled from her eyes she welcomed them, embracing the relief they brought.

Lowering her hands and settling them on her hips, Carrie opened her eyes and turned around on the spot, letting her tears fall down her cheeks. Everything that had happened seemed to hit her all at once, the ache in her chest growing as she cried. The failed supply run, Aidan and Noah…everything with Pete and Jessie…that alone she felt she could deal with, but Carl had been the deciding factor. She'd trusted Rick to handle this properly, to make sure that everything went smoothly, and now that he had failed she wanted to hate him for it. But it was difficult to hate someone who was so clearly suffering too. He was right, he had more riding on their relationship than she did. His children were everything to him, and though the blame for the circumstances was his fault, perhaps Carrie hadn't pushed him hard enough. Why hadn't she insisted they tell Carl? She shouldn't have let him stall for so long.

Clumsily wiping her wet cheeks, she let a few more miserable sobs pass her lips before trying to steady herself, unscrewing the lid on her water bottle and taking a sip. A breeze swept down the street, cooling the sweat on her skin as she took another sip of water as she came to a decision. She wasn't ready to go back inside the walls, and so not wanting to lose any more momentum she forced herself to start walking again, to resume the physical exertion that never failed to bring relief. As she walked she splashed some water over her face, trying to wash away the evidence of her tears. She knew exactly who she would find waiting for her a few streets away, having caught a glimpse of him on her last pass, and she didn't want him to see her crying.

As she suspected, Rick was standing by the RV waiting for her, his arms folded as he leant against the rear ladder. This was their usual place for privacy, a place they came to when they had the foresight to plan ahead or when they couldn't get the house to themselves. Though this was their rendezvous place, she knew he wasn't out here for sex, and judging by his expression there was going to be no avoiding this confrontation. One way or another, he was here to have it out with her, to fight, to talk…he wouldn't let her walk away this time. As she slowed down to a stop a few yards away there was an awkward pause, the two of them looking at each other for a long moment, deciding who was going to speak first.

Considering him, she was relieved to note that he didn't look angry, that somehow his temper had abated. Glad for this, she started thinking about the things he said last night, that he was willing to kill Pete and Ron to keep Lori's mistake a secret. He seemed so certain of himself, there had been no hesitation in his voice when he told her what he would do. In hindsight he _had_ told her about this side of himself, he _had_ warned that she wouldn't understand or accept it. And now, it seemed he was right. She knew she couldn't support him killing Maggie's doctor, killing a teenager who didn't understand the pain he could inflict. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn't justify their deaths when Carl and Judith weren't at physical harm, no matter how strong Pete's grudge against Rick was.

"I just spoke with Daryl," Rick began, stepping away from the RV and coming towards her. His tone of voice was low, but without anger. "He told me what happened."

She tried to reply to him, her lips parted and her breath drawn, but the words wouldn't come. Her apology fell silent, the pressure in her chest growing as she tried again to speak, but she was forced to settle for saying nothing. She wanted to apologise for this, for possibly making things even worse by trying to talk to Carl herself. All she wanted was for all of this to go away, for everything to just fix itself, but there was nothing she could do to make that happen.

"I'm sorry for what Carl said to you," Rick continued, looking at her sadly. "Today, and yesterday. Carrie?"

She nodded, hastily bringing her hand to her face and wiping her wet eyes.

"We should talk. Right now," he added kindly. "All the watch posts are covered, we've got all the time we need…let's talk."

"About what?" she finally managed to say, her voice tight with emotion.

"Everything."

"About Pete? Ron?"

"Yes," he agreed, giving a heavy sigh. He shifted his weight between his feet, looping his thumb around his duty belt as he appeared to think. "I know what I said last night sca…"

Trailing off as she started towards him, Carrie could see his eyes fill with apprehension as he braced himself. He seemed like he was expecting her to hit him, and if that was his expectation he didn't try to stop her, but that wasn't her intention. No matter how mad she was she wouldn't do that to him, she'd never show such disrespect to someone she loved, and so that left only one option. She couldn't walk away right now, one way or another she had to stay and engage him, but that didn't mean they had to talk. No matter his expectations, Rick didn't step back when she walked right up to him, and she just managed to see the surprise on his face before she started to kiss him.

It took him a long moment to react, to return the fierce kiss she was giving, and even when he did it wasn't to her satisfaction. Taken aback by her behaviour, he was hesitant with his response, bringing his hands to her body only when she moved them there. Finally he responded in kind, kissing her back as he pulled her to him fully, his hand winding into her hair. She could still feel his caution, could feel the way he tensed when she took his lip between her teeth. He was still expecting her to hurt him, to bite or scratch him like she had once before when she was angry, but that wasn't her intention today. She kissed him not because she loved him, not because she wanted his touch or embrace, but because she wanted him to stop talking. He came out here to talk to her, but she didn't share his desire.

Emotions were running high, and she was afraid of what she might say if they did start talking. She knew she was a bitch when provoked, and still she pictured the look on his face last night when she blamed him for not being able to prevent Lori's death. She hated that she said that to him, and she didn't want to give him any more cruel words, she didn't want to see that look on his face because of her. So she kissed him instead, even though she knew this tactic was a different kind of cruelty. By the way he was kissing her now she could tell he had a different interpretation of the meaning behind this kiss. His body was relaxing, his relief apparent as he held her while they kissed. He thought this was a step towards reconciliation, evident by the way he started kissing her neck instead, whispering that he loved her, that he was sorry.

When he pulled away a moment later he looked around at their surroundings, double checking that they were safe before turning back to her. Quietly he asked if she was alright, his hand reaching up to brush her hair behind her ear, and he let it linger there on her neck. If they started talking she couldn't trust herself, she feared she would say something cruel, that she'd hurt him again. She knew better than to do what she did next, that she was engaging in emotional deception, but right now anything was better than talking this out. Reaching up she placed her hand over his and entwined their fingers, and then pressed a soft kiss onto his cheek.

She pulled away and started towards the RV, tugging his hand as she went. "Come on."

Though he followed, it was with hesitation. "Carrie, we need to talk."

 _No, not now._ "You said we have time," she insisted, giving him a warm smile.

Feeling his disfavour, Carrie stopped outside the RV's door and turned back around to him, making sure that this went her way. She knew exactly what to do, how to touch and look at him to ensure she had his full attention. Before she kissed him she stroked her fingers over his stubbled jaw, using her touch to draw him closer. It took little more than that and a few murmurs of encouragement for her to get her own way, the two of them quickly slipping inside and locking the door.

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A/N Hope you all enjoyed the chapter - things will slowly come to a peak for Rick and Carrie over the next few chapters. Thanks for the reviews :-)


	43. Chapter 43

A/N - Settle in and buckle up, it's a long chapter!

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 _She pulled away and started towards the RV, tugging his hand as she went. "Come on."_

 _Though he followed, it was with hesitation. "Carrie, we need to talk."_

 _No, not now. "You said we have time," she insisted, giving him a warm smile._

 _Feeling his disfavour, Carrie stopped outside the RV's door and turned back around to him, making sure that this went her way. She knew exactly what to do, how to touch and look at him to ensure she had his full attention. Before she kissed him she stroked her fingers over his stubbled jaw, using her touch to draw him closer. It took little more than that and a few murmurs of encouragement for her to get her own way, the two of them quickly slipping inside and locking the door._

* * *

Everything seemed fine at first…at least until it was over.

In the aftermath of sex, of the two of them indulging and screwing around to relieve some tension, Rick thought of nothing more than laying down on the uncomfortable RV bed with Carrie against his side. This too was an indulgence they normally didn't take, the opportunity to lay down and extend their intimacy a little longer, but almost as soon as it began it became apparent that something was wrong. For the first time ever Carrie seemed apathetic, almost disinterested in extending the intimacy they way they normally did. When Rick encouraged her down to lay against his chest she did so automatically, but he caught a glimpse of her distant expression, one that indicated not all was well. It was then that he noticed the tension in her shoulders, the slight air of discomfort he could feel from her.

"Is something wrong?" he asked in concern. Rubbing his face with his free hand he mentally roused himself, resisting the desire to close his eyes and rest. "Carrie?"

She raised her head and looked at him properly, a smile crossing her face. "No," she answered, feigning confusion. "Everything's fine."

Not comforted, he held her gaze and looked at her critically. What was she doing? She knew he could tell when she was faking an orgasm, he'd called her out on it the only time she had, and then he'd happily rectified the oversight. So why did she think she could fake a smile? Did she really think she was fooling him? Slowly realising that she wasn't, Carrie lowered her head back onto his shoulder to hide her face, and a few minutes later she unexpectedly took her leave. She gave his collarbone a soft kiss as she sat up, avoiding eye contact as she carefully climbed over him and got to her feet. Rick watched in silence as she found her clothes and started redressing. He didn't understand. What had he done wrong?

"Carrie, what is it?" he asked seriously, sitting up as he watched her. "Carrie… _Carlene_."

At his use of her full name she turned and looked at him over her shoulder, her expression cautious. She looked at him for a moment and then turned away, her fingers fumbling behind her back as she tried to close the clasp of her bra. "I told you, everything's fine."

As his body turned cold with worry he watched her fumbling, the cast on her wrist occasionally making things harder for her. "Do you want me to-"

"No," she said quickly, taking a step away from him. An instant later the clasp was secured.

Her abrupt rejection rendered him silent now, too stunned for words. What was going on here? What had he done? Everything seemed fine up until it was over, perfectly normal in fact. Once inside the RV with their problems set aside they had kissed languidly, enjoying the process of undressing one another and the intimacy that followed…or at least Rick had. The sex itself couldn't be the problem, for while it wasn't their best it wasn't their worst either. They'd taken their time with one another, she'd reached climax twice by the time they were done. Yet something was still off…something wasn't right.

While she wrangled the various clasps on her holsters Rick made no move to do the same, unable to do anything but watch her prepare to leave. He could feel his heart pounding, his head still trying to make sense of her behaviour. He thought this was the start of their reconciliation, that she wanted to blow off some steam before facing their challenges together. This was supposed to be forgiveness on both of their part, the start of a mutual understanding that would later be verbalised, but it was clear now that it wasn't the case.

"Are you coming?" she asked. Though she turned around to face him, her eyes didn't meet his.

"No."

She nodded silently, hesitating for a moment. Rick waited, hoping that she would say something, that she would give some kind of explanation for her demeanour, but none came. Instead she afforded him only the minimum of affection, and when she stepped towards him she did so with her good hand in front of her. She reached across her body and placed it on his opposite elbow, holding it there before bending down to kiss on him on the cheek. He knew this signal of hers, that the placement of her hand on his arm before a kiss meant _don't touch me_ , her way of defining a boundary to her body that she occasionally needed. Knowing her history he would never touch her against her will, he'd never ignore or push a boundary she imposed, even now when he wanted to take her hand and make her stay with him. He wanted an explanation, a reason for her cold dismissal.

She left the RV without another word, taking the keys with her and locking him in from the outside, making sure that he was safe. As she departed she passed by the rear window and slipped the keys inside to him, but she dropped them onto the bed rather than wait for him to take them. With that she was gone, Rick left with nothing but her fading footsteps. He sat there for the longest time, trying to decipher and understand her behaviour, to figure out where they had gone wrong. Clearly they were on different pages here, but she had been the one to initiate the intimacy. Suddenly it felt like the earliest days of their relationship, back when they were nothing more than friends with benefits. In those days their private life consisted of sex to blow off some steam, an activity they slipped into their schedule before both going about their day, but even then there had been affection. The smiles they shared were genuine, their touch fuelled by not only desire, but care and tenderness too. At least then they knew the expectations of one another, they always knew where they stood, as opposed to the way Rick felt now.

By the time he finally redressed and went home to Alexandria, Rick was seething in anger, with resentment. Knowing that he wasn't in any state of mind to be dealing with Carl right now he wanted to go to the gardens, to find the peaceful solitude where he could think and sort things out in his head, maybe pull a few weeds or check the soil quality. But it wasn't to be, and with the fuss of Buttons' arrival solitude was out of his grasp. Though the community members were staying well back in order to give the skittish horse some space, the same opportunity was not afforded to Rick. Perhaps it was a blessing in disguise of sorts, for the focus on Buttons and his role in helping find him meant that he had to keep his temper, that he had to set his problems aside for a short while.

He approached cautiously, watching Buttons and reading his body language. Though he could sense the horse's anxiety at being approached by something that so resembled the Walkers that must pursue him, he could also sense his curiosity. Michonne already stood by him, having managed to gain his trust and slip a halter over him that morning, and she affectionately rubbed her hand over his flank, speaking in soft tones. Confident that he was calm enough, Rick cautiously offered the back of his hand for him to smell, glad when he did so eagerly. Just like Flame had been when they caught her, Buttons had likely been domesticated before the outbreak, and he seemed cautious but curious.

"Good boy," Rick praised, placing his hand on his shoulder before beginning to stroke him. He was a little scruffy, but on first inspection he appeared to be reasonably clean and free of lice.

"When we first saw him out there," Michonne began, still rubbing his flank. "I started to get this…suspicion."

Rick smiled to himself and then followed Michonne's gaze, critiquing Buttons' rather rotund shape. "I think I share that suspicion," he commented. Still moving slowly, he crouched down and took a look at his underbelly, and a quick glance was all he needed. "My apologies, Buttons. It looks like we have ourselves a mare."

"A mare who looks ready to foal."

"Yes," he agreed, running his hand over Buttons' broad belly. "Looks like some stallion had his way with her."

He moved his hand back up her neck now, taking a look at the state of her mane before gently scratching her withers, testing the waters. She seemed to like it, her head bobbing ever so slightly.

"You have any experience with this?" he asked Michonne, already worried about the implications.

"With foaling?" she questioned. "No. I rode for fun, learnt some basic care. You?"

"Not really."

"I thought your father managed a ranch back in the day?"

Rick smiled fondly. "He was the foreman, but that was easily twenty five years ago."

"Maggie?"

Rick grumbled under his breath, not liking that suggestion. "Until we know her temperament a little better, Maggie ought stay out of kicking distance." He paused for a few moments, looking around at the people who were watching, keeping a safe distance so as to not trouble Buttons. "We're going to need a supply run. We can house her in a garage for now, but she'll need a proper stable before she foals. Not to mention proper food and grain for when she's nursing, worming medications…she's probably full of parasites."

As Michonne nodded in agreement, sharing his same concerns, Rick cautiously ran his hand down Buttons' hind leg. Confirming his belief that she had once been well domesticated, she automatically lifted her foot and let him inspect her hoof. Though he was pleased to find it in good condition, all four of her hooves hard and smooth, he worried that it wouldn't be that way forever, not if she was going to be domesticated within Alexandria. They'd have to take care to keep her active to ensure her hooves stayed healthy.

Buttons started moving around a little, and when he saw her turning towards his lower back to nuzzle him he remembered why. Apologising, he gave her a gentle pat before removing the carrot he had harvested just for her, pleased when she eagerly took it. There was a brief moment in which he caught a glimpse of her teeth, just long enough for him to ascertain that she was likely only a few years old. This was probably her first foal, a first for all of them.

"Daryl told me what happened with Carl while we were out," Michonne said gently, bringing up a subject that set Rick's teeth on edge.

"Good," he commented, opening his palm to show Buttons that he didn't have any more treats for her. From the corner of his eye he glanced up into the crowd, seeing Daryl there with Judith on his hip. His daughter was perfectly uninterested in all of the fuss, preferring instead to tug on Daryl's ear, delighted with the way he protested.

"Do you want me to go and talk to him?" Michonne offered next. "Get him to come home?"

Rick shook his head. "No, thank you."

Though he could tell Michonne wanted to ask him what his plans were, how he was going to handle his son's righteous anger, she did not. He was glad for this, for the news was still relatively new to him, and he didn't know what he was going to do. What could he do? His son had discovered the extent of his free will a long time ago, and he wielded it to his benefit many times. To make matters worse, there was no denying that he held the moral high ground.

"I'm surprised he's not out here," Michonne commented. "Even with everything going on, he must be dying to see Buttons."

To his surprise, Rick laughed softly at this, agreeing with her. "No, the need to sulk is stronger," he muttered, glancing at the second house now. As he suspected, he could see a silhouette in the window upstairs. "He's watching though."

He spent a little more time getting to know Buttons, and then tactfully chose to give her some space, he and Michonne ensuring she had some food and water before backing off. From a distance they watched and observed her, Rick consulting with a few others to organise a brief meeting. A supply run was now in order, a brief meeting required in order to make a list and discuss some locations. Relieved to have an issue he was capable of actually addressing, Rick returned to his empty home and went to the laundry. Removing his shirt and tossing it into the laundry basket he doused his hands and forearms in soap, cleaning himself up after handling Buttons and taking out a couple of Walkers on his way back from the RV.

As he cleaned up he allowed his mind to wander, thinking about what needed to be done next. There was a feed store in a neighbouring town that would have most everything they needed, this having been next on the plans for Aidan's run crew. As this thought occurred to him, Rick resisted the temptation he felt to go on the supply run too. Certainly he was capable of it, his presence happily welcomed, but he knew he couldn't. There was too much going on inside Alexandria that he needed to be around for. Pete, Carl, Carrie…he needed to face his problems…starting now apparently.

He recognised the gait of her walk just like he recognised his son's, and so he didn't need to raise his head and look up when he heard footsteps approaching the laundry. He sensed Carrie's presence in the doorway, and he spared her a glance before turning away. Going about a task he should have done earlier, he emptied the bucket of vomit soaked bedsheets from Judith's crib. Daryl had gone to the effort of immersing them to soak over night, and now they would need to be laundered. Giving them a final rinse off he dumped them into the washing machine and added some laundry liquid, wondering how long it would take for Carrie to start speaking.

"What is it?" he finally asked, washing his hands once more as the washing machine started. He looked up at her, feeling a cruel sense of satisfaction when he found she looked worried…even upset.

Folding her arms, she took deep breath and leant against the door frame. "There's a few things we need to talk about," she said quietly, her voice heavy with uncertainty. "About Carl."

"Well isn't that funny," he said coldly. "I wanted to talk about him earlier."

She visibly winced, indicating that she knew what he was referring to. Her regret was plain, her eyes remorseful as she looked him in the eye and began to say something, likely an apology, but when she saw his cold expression she seemed to falter. "Carl said something to me this morning," she began. "He-he said that you don't spend enough time with him…that you promised you would."

"Yeah? So?"

Carrie looked surprised, his blasé response unexpected. "Well I…I thought you should know that's how he feels."

"I'm well aware of how he feels," he replied shortly. "I know I don't spend enough time with him, and I know he wants me to."

There was a moment of awkward silence, Carrie's confusion evident. "Then why aren't you?"

It was this question that set him off, that made him lash out at her. Did she listen to nothing he said? "You think I'm unaware of the problem?" he snapped at her angrily. "That I'm not trying?

"No, I-"

"I am aware of the problem, and you know damn well that I'm trying to fix it," he said, grabbing a clean shirt from the dryer. "Why else would I be busting my ass to help him with his punishment? Why else would I consider cutting him from school?"

"I…" she began, startled by his reaction. "I'm just telling you what he said to me, that's all."

"I know what he said to you." Furious, he started towards the door, glad when she stepped aside and let him through. "Daryl heard every word of it."

She followed him through the house, still going. "Rick, please don't go. We need to talk about this, we-"

"I wanted to talk this morning," he snapped, the hurt he felt when she left the RV resurfacing again.

His words were impactful, and there was no doubt Carrie knew exactly what he was referring to. The stress on her face was evident, her cheeks pale and her eyes bloodshot. "Rick, I'm s-"

"I don't want to hear it," he said bluntly, not wanting to hear her apologies. Instead he headed for the front door. "I've got other problems to deal with right now."

"But Carl has moved out!" she implored desperately. "You have to do something Rick, you have to!"

He stopped halfway through the door and took a deep breath, well aware of all the people outside who were within earshot. If he'd been furious with her this morning, he didn't know how to describe what he was feeling now. Controlling himself surprisingly well, he turned around and looked at her, feeling no sympathy for her distress.

"Don't tell me how to raise my children," he said coldly, looking her in the eye. "You are not their mother."

Carrie's face fell, the hurt his words inflicted clearly evident. He felt a cruel satisfaction at the look on her face, glad that he had inflicted the same hurt upon her that she had upon him. A moment passed as he waited for her to say something, and when she did not he turned away and left, leaving her behind as he departed to handle the one problem that he could. The morning passed blessedly quickly, the plans for the run coming together quickly. They would make a quick drive that afternoon to check things out around the places they would scavenge, and then tomorrow they would make their run. Tara was going with them this time, her first time venturing out following Aidan and Noah's deaths, but with the amount of heavy lifting to be done Carrie would not be going. She was capable, but unable to help with the majority of the work - Glenn wanted only as many as they needed, no more and no less.

Knowing himself well, Rick intentionally allowed the morning and early afternoon to pass before attending to the other problem he faced right now, Carl. Letting his temper cool until he was level headed enough to handle this in the fashion he wanted to, he passed the time fussing around in the gardens and getting to know Buttons, feeding the hungry mare some freshly harvested produce. Just like at the prison, tending to the gardens and their livestock was relaxing, the animals presenting him with problems easily handled…and they didn't talk either. It gave him the time he needed to think, having already spoken to Glenn a little about Carl's unexpected arrival on his doorstep. By the time mid-afternoon came Rick was ready to go and talk to his son, hoping that he too was ready for a conversation.

As he knew to expect, Glenn and Maggie hadn't turned Carl away. They'd never turn away his request for refuge, at least not until Rick asked them to. It was the knowledge that Rick could force his son to come home that allowed him to consider his options, taking the time to decide what the best course of action was. Who did he want to serve here? Himself? His pride? His ego? Or his son, who was clearly telling him that he wanted space. It always felt like a balancing act when it came to Carl, Rick often caught between trying to give him the autonomy he desired and the need to keep him close.

"You give us the word and we'll send him back," Maggie assured him, her crossed arms resting on her round belly. "But until then, we can't make him feel unwelcome with his own family."

Standing on their front porch with she and Glenn, Rick came to a reluctant decision. "He can stay. If he'd rather share a room with Eugene than me, that's his problem."

"Actually, we're going to set up the couch for him," Glenn said gently. "He doesn't want to sleep in Noah's bed."

This reminder served only to make Rick feel even worse, reminding him of everything else Carl was going through right now. With a long sigh he looked through the open door and into the living room, knowing that Carl was inside the house somewhere, most likely eavesdropping on their conversation. Again, Rick weighed up his options, still unsure of how to handle this particular problem. His son was suffering, and not just from the outrage he felt at being deceived.

"I'd like to talk to him."

Agreeing to his request Maggie went inside and called Carl's name. He promptly appeared at her bedroom door, indicating that he had indeed been eavesdropping on the front porch conversation. Still sullen, he slowly made his way out onto the front porch, thanking Glenn quietly when he went inside to give them some privacy. With his arms folded and his demeanour icy, he raised his head and looked up at his father expectantly.

"What?"

Setting the standard from the get go, Rick titled his head and cleared his throat, expressing his disapproval. Though he was clearly trying to assert himself, Carl reconsidered his greeting.

"Yes, Dad?" he said politely.

Rick took a deep breath before beginning. "If there's anything you want to get off your chest, anything you want to say to me….now's your chance."

His lips pursed and his arms folded, Carl looked to his right and shook his head petulantly. Summoning all of his patience, Rick reminded himself not to project frustration with Carrie onto Carl, and so he ignored his petulance.

"Have you unpacked your things yet?"

"No," he answered, his tone sullen now.

"Why not?"

"Maggie said I had to wait for your permission."

Rick smiled. _Thank you Maggie_. "Go get your pack. Now."

Carl turned to his abruptly, his expression darkening. "I'm not coming home," he declared. "I'm don-"

"Get your pack, now."

There was a brief pause before Carl complied, turning on his heel before marching into the house. As Rick waited he shared a glance with Glenn who hovered inside the door, listening as Rick prepared to set the ground rules for the new living arrangements. It took a little longer than it should for Carl to return with his pack, which he had expected. He stood with his shoulders squared, looking fully prepared to argue his case for staying with Glenn and Maggie, to refuse his father's authority. When Rick held his hand out for the pack Carl frowned, confused for a moment.

Taking it from him, Rick set it down onto the porch coffee table and opened it. Without apology he began rifling through the contents, looking through it all to ascertain what Carl had and had not taken, and also looking for a few things in particular. Their family photograph with Lori was on top, wrapped in a shirt to keep it safe, and so Rick set it onto the coffee table before continuing his search. If he knew his son at all, there would be… _ah hah_. Finding them standing up along the back panel, Rick gently removed the confiscated comic books and set them onto the coffee table, giving his son a knowing glance before looking inside again.

It came as no surprise that Carl had found the key to their shared bureau and taken his belongings back. In fact, Rick would have been more surprised if he hadn't. Finding his iPod Touch buried at the very bottom, clearly having hoped to hide it, he sat it on the table with the comic books before removing the KitKat bar he found in the front pocket. He searched only until he found Carl's toothpaste and dental floss, and then he was satisfied.

Standing straight, Rick looked his son in the eye, pleased to see he was rather unhappy with this turn of events. "Go and get the rest."

"Huh?" Carl frowned.

"Get the others," he repeated, gesturing to the comic books. "All of them. Now."

"That's all I took."

Rick would not be played so easily, and so he held Carl's gaze and waited. He had confiscated seven comic books, but there were only five on the table. It didn't matter how long it took, Carl was going to return every last one of them. Incrementally his expression showed signs of surrender, and finally he turned away without a word and went back inside, knowing he had been found out. As Rick watched him go he caught Glenn's expression, amused to note that he seemed suitably impressed by Rick's certainty.

"Here," Carl muttered, handing over the final two comics.

Taking all seven comics under his arm, he slipped the iPod and KitKat into his pocket and then looked back at his son. "This is what you want?" he asked gently, giving him the opportunity to change his mind.

"Yes," he replied tersely.

Rick nodded, agreeing to his son's wishes. "The same rules apply here as they do at home," he began, laying out his expectations upfront. "You answer to me, and you answer to Glenn and Maggie, just like you always have. They tell you to jump, you ask them how high. Is that clear?"

Carl nodded, his eyes focused on the ground. "Yes," he answered when Rick prompted him.

"I know you're mad at me, and I understand why. Now you can run away, give me the cold shoulder, punish me forever…none of that is going to stop me being your father."

"Fine."

"You'll be coming home for dinner at six o'clock, every night, and I won't hear any arguments. For the record, you're still grounded."

Carl looked up in outrage, his mouth gaping. "No, I'm not!"

"Nothing has changed," Rick stated calmly. "You'll work, go to school, do your homework, and sleep. Dinner at six o'clock, every night. Those are your plans until I say otherwise."

"You can't do that!"

"Unpack your things where Maggie tells you to, then you can collect the trash you didn't do yesterday, and the compost too," he added as he turned away and began to leave. "Once you've finished that, tidy the chicken coop and check for eggs, then come and find me for more."

"Dad, you can't just…" Carl spluttered, unable to believe what was happening. "W-well I know you smoke! I know you smoke Dad… _Dad!_ "

Not giving him the satisfaction of a response, Rick promptly left and returned home, leaving Carl angrily calling out to him, trying to provoke a reaction just like he tried the day before. Despite the angry way their conversation ended, Carl seemed to fall in line with the expectations Rick had set for him, possibly receiving a swift reminder from Glenn and Maggie. He completed his chores without protest, and though he did so without saying a word he presented himself at home for dinner that evening. But as Rick had worried, what seemed like a one or two day absence for Carl to cool down quickly turned into four days, and though Carl seemed to happily settle in at the second house, it wasn't so easy for Rick.

With little else to occupy his mind with, Rick found himself replaying every moment from that awful weekend, scrutinising everything that had and had not been said. Already at his wits end, Rick didn't know what to say to Carrie, he didn't know how to fix things and pick up where they had left off. It was painful to admit, but her emotional distance and strange rejection was hurtful, leaving him questioning everything and feeling more alone that he had in a long time. Before what happened in the RV he'd gone to find her not just to talk, but to apologise. He'd been prepared to get down on his hands and knees, to set aside every ounce of his pride and humbly ask for her forgiveness, but as the days passed he began to feel differently.

Carrie's cool demeanour from Sunday morning only made it easier for him to return his favour, and as anger and resentment began growing inside of him that's exactly what he did. They had barely spoken since the cruel things he said to her Sunday morning, and certainly they had taken no steps towards fixing any of their problems. So as the days passed they resorted to the kind of polite indifference they had resorted to once before, following their first fight from over a month ago. It was easier to feign politeness and simply avoid one another than it was to break the ice, to set aside their differences long enough to hold a conversation. They both knew it wasn't a healthy way to fight, that it wasn't good for their relationship particularly when they ought to be supporting one another, and yet it was exactly what they were doing. Was it pride? Was it fear that they didn't really have the moral high ground?

What if this whole situation was an indication they weren't right for one another?

It was questions like that which kept Rick awake at night, that in combination with Carl's absence. Despite it being a habit he ought not encourage, Judith had happily taken Carl's place in the bed beside him. Fighting with both Carrie and his son was a lonely experience, one that alienated him from the both of them. As he lay awake at night with only Judith there he constantly tried to summon the courage to go and see Carrie, to enter her bedroom and slip into bed beside her. He suspected that she wouldn't mind, that she wouldn't reject him, but he held back from the desire. Knowing what Carl said to Carrie last Sunday morning, that Carl had accused him of spending more time with her than his children, Rick refrained from joining her. He didn't want to take advantage of his son's absence, though a week ago he would have done so gladly.

By the time Thursday morning came around, Rick was quickly reaching the end of his patience with everything, and when he caught himself yelling at Judith for something inconsequential he knew something had to change. Apologising to his daughter and soothing her tears, for a little crayon on the wall really didn't matter, he calmed himself down and tried to think. Carl had been gone for days now, while he and Carrie were still giving one another the cold shoulder, extending the punishment until one of them gave in. Acknowledging how much he missed the both of them, Rick came to a decision, choosing the problem he was best equipped to deal with first. Carl was presently occupied and would soon be heading off to school, much against his protest. That left Rick with one alternative.

He shared his plans with Carol and then handed over baby sitting duty, thanking her for taking over despite her other plans. After making a few other arrangements and then checking in with a few other people, he went to the eastern watch post. It was there that he found Carrie standing to attention alongside Tara, the two of them supervising not only the security of the perimeter, but the safety of those down working on the finishing touches of the new eastern gate. Carrie stood with binoculars held to her eyes, vigilantly scanning the streets for any signs of human life that shouldn't be present. She looked relaxed and content, she and Tara talking quietly, and Rick felt badly for inflicting his presence on her.

"What time do you finish your shift?" he asked when he had her attention, wondering which of the two of them were actually scheduled to the post.

She looked at him strangely, perhaps surprised that he had come to her. "I'm not on shift, I'm just keeping Tara company."

Rick nodded and then thought for a moment, wondering if any of this was a good idea. "I'm going out for a while. Will you come with me?"

"Where are we going?"

"To check the safe houses."

"Who else?"

"Just us."

There was a short pause as Carrie considered this, his plans for them to go alone telling her they were going for privacy, not a genuine security check. As he waited he prayed that she agreed to his request, that he didn't have to ask again or insist. They needed this, they needed the time to be alone, for there was just something about putting two people into a vehicle that seemed to foster conversation. If they couldn't avoid each other like they had been all week, they couldn't avoid their problems.

"I'll come and find you when I'm ready," she replied shortly. Without another word she turned away and raised the binoculars again, bringing their conversation to an end.

Seeing the apologetic shrug Tara gave, Rick took what he could get and left, needing to take care of a few things first. He went to the armoury and collected a couple of extra weapons to take with them, selecting his preferred rifle and a spare hand gun he knew Carrie would favour. Glad that Olivia wasn't there to make small talk with, he entered the Pantry and added two bottles of water, glad to see that shelves were not being fully stocked. With everything he needed Rick swiftly departed the Pantry and headed towards home.

As he passed it by he noted that Tara now stood on the east post alone, but it was almost another hour by the time Carrie came to find him. By then he was impatient and frustrated already, having tried to adequately occupy himself by tending to the gardens and checking on Buttons. Though she had slowly settled into her makeshift stable and begun trusting the people who tended to her, the community had made a point of giving Buttons her space, not yet assured of her temperament. As Rick let himself into the small paddock area, checking on the feed and water available, he'd heard a familiar voice coming up behind him.

He turned to find Pete and Sam walking hand in hand, followed at a subtle but watchful distance by Sasha. Sam was positively beaming with excitement, he and Pete slowing to a stop a few yards away from Rick's house so they could observe Buttons from a distance. Though they stood in the same place that everyone else did who came to see Buttons, Rick's protectiveness would not be abated, no matter what had happened in the last few days.

Against every instinct, Rick had come to the slow and frustrating understanding that Carrie was right. He couldn't kill Pete, not with Maggie's life at stake. The reminder of what had happened to Lori and his absolutely helplessness to do anything had rendered any argument for Pete's death moot. If something happened to Maggie or the baby because Pete wasn't there to help, Rick would never be able to forgive himself. He'd never be able to face Glenn if he indirectly caused the death of his wife or baby.

It was that understanding that he had hoped to share with Carrie last Sunday morning, but one he didn't get the opportunity to. He had gone to the RV to talk to her not just about Carl, but to tell her he understood what was at stake for Maggie and the baby, to reassure her about Ron. She'd been horrified that he was willing to kill him, and it had genuinely upset her, it changed the way she looked at him that night they argued about it. Now Rick wanted to tell her that he didn't mean it, that killing a child in cold blood was indeed a line he hadn't and wouldn't cross. But he hadn't gotten the chance, Carrie using sex to stall their conversation…that had set off a chain of events, her cold dismissal that morning making him return the favour, emboldening him to say something cruel that he really didn't mean, that she wasn't the mother of his children.

To his annoyance, Pete cast his eyes over to Rick now, which in itself wasn't a crime, particularly given that he stood inside the paddock with Buttons. Though he looked in Rick's direction he made no indication that he was there to do antagonise him, to rub salt into the wounds he had so recently caused. As quickly as he had looked over at Rick he turned away, bringing his attention back to Sam, and moments later he was helping his son climb up onto his shoulders to get a better view of Buttons. Though Sam was too old for such a gesture, Pete seemed to be fussing over his youngest son at the moment, trying to win back his wavering affections.

It had been a difficult week on many fronts, Rick's inability to do anything about Pete making it all the worse. Nothing had changed, and no matter what Maggie might need Pete in the coming months. Rick knew of the grief he had lived through as a widow, of being a single father to two children…how could he live with himself if he put Glenn at Maggie at the same risk? He couldn't kill Pete without putting Maggie and her child's life at risk, that was the only reason he was still alive. Carrie was right about Pete, and she was right about Ron too. The truth was, Rick couldn't kill either of them. With this came the understanding that he was powerless, that the only measure he could take at the moment was inaction.

For now, the situation had smoothed out when Rick came to the difficult decision to do nothing, to not retaliate against what Pete had done to his relationship with Carl. It had happened now, and any action Rick took would provoke further action, further response and attack. Difficult as it were, he and Pete needed to coexist…he had to let Pete win this round. As this thought occurred to him he saw Pete looking around, his expression darkening for just a moment as he watched the approach of someone else heading their way, Carrie.

She walked towards the paddock like a woman on a mission, her body language telling Rick that she didn't want to do this, but that she was making herself. As she drew nearer she looked up and set her eyes onto him, her manner softening into her usual polite indifference, though this lasted for only a moment. Noticing that she had drawn the attention of Pete also, she narrowed her eyes as she looked at him, her sour expression prompting him to look away apologetically. She kept her eyes on him as she drew nearer to Rick, and only when she was satisfied that he was no longer concerned with her did she turn to Rick.

"I'm ready."

"Good," he nodded, jumping down from the stable fence where he had been sitting. "Let's go."

"I'm driving," she added bluntly, her tone leaving no room for argument.

Without a word he handed her the keys, the two of them setting off towards the gate together. As they walked they both cast their eyes over Pete once again, Rick giving Sasha an appreciative nod as she continued guarding him and supervising his visit with Sam. With Pete adequately handled he turned his attention back to Carrie, conscious of the silence broken only by their footsteps and the dangling keys in her hand.

"Why aren't we taking the Hyundai?" she asked.

"Tobin's changing the oil."

"What car are these for?"

"Tobin's pick up."

"What's wrong with the Chrysler we found last month?"

Having reached the stairs to the scaffolding that would take them into the watch tower, Rick slowed to a stop and summoned his patience. He'd chosen the pick up for its reliability and grill guard. "If you want to take the Chrysler, then we'll take the Chrysler. Keys are in the Pantry."

There was a brief pause, Rick and Carrie looking at each other. She took a deep breath and brushed her hair behind her ear, then she pocketed the keys and reached for the ladder. "No, it's fine."

Closing his eyes for a moment, Rick counted down from five before following her up. This was awkward and uncomfortable, but it was nothing they couldn't work through. Once they were alone in the car things would be fine, they would start talking. He didn't care if he had to start, if he had to be the one to apologise first, he just wanted this to be over. Descending the watch tower they emerged into the world outside and then set off through the streets, making the short walk to the street where they kept their vehicles. Visible from the tower and with great sight lines, it was an ideal location for their vehicles. It was only the RV that they kept a little further down the street, under the pretence of keeping it in the shade, but really to keep it out of sight from the watch tower.

"Why are you trying to fix things with me instead of your son?" Carrie asked bluntly, the two of them reaching the pick up.

Grateful that she wasn't beating around the bush, Rick got into the passenger seat and lowered the windows. The engine was reliable, but the air conditioning was terrible. "He's not done punishing me yet," was his answer.

"You think I am?" she countered, putting the key into the ignition and starting the engine.

Rick paused at this, and looked at her curiously. "So, you're punishing me?"

Taking note of what she had said, Carrie too paused. "No," she said, adjusting her seat before taking off. "I'm not trying to punish you."

"Good to know," he muttered, sitting back and settling in for a long drive.

Despite his hopes for their journey, none of it quite went according to plan. Despite the two of them being stuck inside Tobin's pick up with only themselves to talk to, the silence continued, its length quickly beginning to feel insurmountable. An hour passed with barely a word spoken, and they were now on their way to the third safe house, the most secluded and secure. Just like the others this would be an easy check, and once that was over Rick would initiate the conversation...he would. Once he figured out what to say, anyway. Despite his hopes for this drive, Carrie's demeanour hadn't softened since they departed. If anything she looked more tense, more frustrated. He was watching her from the corner of his eye, the small space between them feeling like an entire gulf. The wind is wildly whipping her hair back, and it pained him how beautiful she looks, how it contrasted with her demeanour.

"Do you want to drive?" she asked through gritted teeth.

He frowned, surprised that she had spoken, and with such tension too. "No, it's fine."

"Is there something wrong with my driving?"

"Sorry?"

"Stop watching me."

Rick raised his eyebrows, having not realised she was paying attention. "I'm not watching you," he denied.

His answer dissatisfied her. "Could you just look out the window or something? I know where I'm going, alright?"

"I never said you didn't."

"Then stop watching me!" she snapped.

Biting back the sharply worded reply he wanted to give, Rick clenched his jaw and looked out the passenger window. The uncomfortable silence increased tenfold, and not even daring to glance in her direction again he took a deep breath and berated himself for rising to her temper, for letting her get on his nerves. He didn't know what her problem was, why she was snapping at him like that, but he needed to let it go. The tension was palpable, and now they were both angry with each other...that had to change. _God, he needed a cigarette right now._

Rubbing the back of his neck he closed his eyes and tried to think of something else. The nicotine patch on his upper arm was so far sufficient enough to help him stem the cravings, but not when his temper was flaring up like it was now. Cursing his stupidity in taking up the bad habit again, for he was no longer young and stupid enough to not know better, he opened the glove compartment and began rifling around, hoping Tobin had left some gum in there.

"The map is on the seat," Carrie said lowly.

"I'm not looking for the map," he replied, matching her tone. He knew what she was accusing him of, that she thought he didn't trust her sense of direction.

Slamming the compartment shut he turned to the satchel of food and drink he had packed, swearing under his breath when he found it wasn't there. His frustration grew as he remembered what had happened to it, that he had left it hanging from the corner of Buttons' enclosure. Distracted by Pete's arrival he had neglected to remember it, an amateurish oversight that he shouldn't have made.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing."

He picked up a pen from the floor and began twirling it around in his hands, needing something to do, something to help relieve the craving he felt. One cigarette was all he needed, one cigarette would take the edge off his temper. Still twirling the pen around in his fingers, he watched the road ahead and tried to think of something else. The confirmation that Carl knew about his smoking habit had been the only thing that drove him to give it up. When he'd been younger he'd smoked, mainly because Shane did too, but when things turned serious between he and Lori he had stopped. Frankly it had been a relief, particularly with the money he saved, and he'd always been secretly proud of quitting cold turkey…it wasn't so easy this time around.

He was distracted from his thoughts by the sensation of the brakes being applied, and he frowned when he saw nothing on the road ahead. Looking at Carrie he saw a familiar expression on her face, one she wore a great deal at the moment. She was pissed off.

"What is it?"

The truck lurched to a stop before she put on the hand brake. "You can drive," she said shortly. "I know you want to."

"I didn't say that!"

Ignoring him, she removed her seat belt and got out, the door groaning loudly. He watched in disbelief as she walked around the hood, and he briefly considered refusing to move, forcing her to resume driving, but instead he gave her what she wanted. Though it was petty, he made a point of walking around the rear of the truck so that he didn't have to pass her. When he took the drivers seat he slammed the door angrily, and waited only until she had her seat belt on before hitting the gas and taking off. He tightly gripped the steering wheel until his knuckles went white, relieved that he had something to do with his hands.

From the corner of his eye he observed her, taking note of the way she was cradling her broken arm in her lap. Perhaps it was bothering her, perhaps that was why she didn't want to drive anymore…or perhaps he had been unconsciously indicating that he didn't trust her driving. It wasn't that he didn't trust her driving, she was perfectly competent, it was just he preferred to drive if he had the option. He enjoyed it, having always found the task to be rather relaxing. Even before the outbreak when he and Shane were partners, Rick had always driven the squad car. Shane had neater handwriting and a lead foot, so he did the paperwork while Rick took point…he supposed the arrangement had become a life long habit.

"I wasn't criticising your driving," he said quietly.

There was a long pause, and he heard Carrie sigh. "I know."

"Then why are you acting like such a bitch?"

Again, there was another pause. "Because I am a bitch," she admitted. Not looking at him, she rested her elbow on the window sill as she looked out. "I don't mind if you smoke…I can tell you need one."

He clenched his jaw…she'd never acknowledged that he smoked. While he appreciated her consideration, it was poorly timed. "Actually, I've given up."

"Since when?"

"Sunday."

She gave a soft laugh. "Well that explains your bad mood."

"My bad mood? I'm not the one with a stick up my ass."

To his surprise Carrie didn't react to this comment, choosing instead to let it go. Silence fell again, and despite driving he found that he couldn't quite tune out and relax like he normally did. There was too much unsaid, too many problems that needed to be handled…the sooner they grit their teeth and did it, the better off they'd both be. He missed her, he wanted her back on his side. Eventually things would go back to the way they were, but he didn't want to wait any longer than he had to. As he drove he glanced at her a few times, studying her profile, trying to figure out what she was thinking.

"Carrie," he finally sighed, unable to ignore the problem any longer. "Please can we just fight this out?"

Just like before, she paused before she answered, making sure she thought it through. "Actually, I was thinking I'd just keep being a passive aggressive bitch until you realise what a catch I am."

In spite of the situation, Rick managed a small smile. "I know how good I have it," he assured her, looking at her as he drove. He hoped that she understood what he was trying to say.

"Me too."

Silence resumed again, comfortable this time, but he hastened to break it. "Can we please just fight this out and then move on?"

"Fight it out?" she questioned, looking at him skeptically. When she saw he was serious she turned and looked out the window again. "I don't want to fight with you."

"It would probably be good for us."

Again she refused, sinking back into her seat. "I'm too tired to fight."

"You can't sleep either?"

"No."

He imagined her laying awake at night, worrying about the same things he was, losing sleep over their shared problems. Taking a chance despite her prickly mood, he reached across and placed his hand over hers where it sat on her lap. It was with relief that he felt her respond to his gesture, and she turned her hand over beneath his and entwined their fingers. The gesture was enough to bring them both a small amount of comfort, but unfortunately it couldn't last for long. As he approached a right turn he needed to make he reluctantly took his hand back, already seeing from afar that there were a few Walkers down that street of road. Up until now their journey had been smooth and trouble free, and it was with reluctance that they wound up their windows, just in case they happened to hit anything. The air-conditioning in Tobin's truck didn't work, the pay off for having such a reliable engine and a grill guard. Keeping the speed conservative, he made the turn and meandered his way through the Walkers and then reached a clear stretch of road, sustaining minimal damage from the one Walker he managed to hit. With gratitude they wound the windows down again, relishing in the cool air that rushed in.

An uncomfortable tension returned to the car, and from the corner of his eye he glanced at her hand resting in her lap. Should he take it again? Despite the brief moment of comfort they'd given one another, for some reason it felt difficult to resume, the moment too fleeting. _What the hell was wrong with them?_

"Why did you change your mind about Pete?"

"Sorry?" He looked at her in surprise, having not expected that name to come up so soon.

Carrie looked rather uncomfortable, and she continued looking out the window as she spoke. "The other night you seemed hell bent on killing him...Ron too," she said softly. "Five days later they're still alive."

"Yes."

"Why did you change your mind?"

"I didn't say I had."

"Then why haven't you kill them?" she asked again, beginning to sound frustrated.

"Why do you care? You're the one who keeps telling me I can't, you should be glad."

She swore under her breath. "You're the one who wanted a fight, but you won't answer a simple question."

The truth made him feel powerless, like he couldn't do anything to protect his children. "I don't want to get into this," he said lowly, trying to put an end to the conversation. "Let's talk about something else."

"You're the one who wanted to fight."

"Not about Pete."

There was a tense silence before she continued. "I know you don't want to be that person. You don't have to be," she murmured. "You still have options."

"You're not going to let this go, are you?"

"No."

"Alright," he sighed, wishing they didn't have to get into this. "What if I am that person?" he asked candidly, glancing at her. "What if that's me?"

"You don't have to be."

"Don't avoid the question. What if I did kill Pete? What if I did kill Ron?"

"You won't. You don't kill unless you have to."

"Then what's the problem?" he asked in exasperation. "If I only kill when I have to, why are you giving me such a hard time?"

"Because you don't have to kill them. Either of them."

Gritting his teeth, he weighed up the benefits of continuing this conversation, wondering if he could ever make him understand. She loved his children, he knew she did, but that didn't mean she understood. "They can hurt my kids."

"They're not holding guns to their heads," she tried to reason.

"They don't have to. All they have to do is open their mouths and tell Carl everything. Pete's already done it once, he'll do it again," he muttered, his fears and powerlessness compounding with every word.

"Why don't you just tell Carl the truth?" she asked softly, having gone quiet for a few moments.

That wasn't even up for consideration. "Because for the rest of his life, that will be how he remembers Lori. He'll remember the one mistake she made in sixteen years of marriage, her one lapse of character."

"He'll forgive her."

"Yes," he agreed. "He'll forgive her like I did. But that's still how he'll remember her."

"Is that how you remember her?" she challenged. "For that one mistake?"

He hesitated, unsure of how honest he could be. "Sometimes, yes."

This seemed to take Carrie by surprise, yet she continued anyway. "Putting Maggie and her baby at risk in order to protect Carl's memories seems a little out of proportion," she said gently, trying to be sensitive. "The same with Ron. He's a child Rick, just like Carl."

If only she understood that he knew that already, that these reasons were the only thing keeping Pete and Ron alive right now. He knew what he had to do now, that he had to tell her everything, confess every vulnerability. "I know I can't kill them," he finally said, the admission difficult to voice. He looked at her to gauge her reaction, nervous for what she would say. "I can't kill either of them."

Though it was clearly what she wanted to hear, Carrie didn't seem relieved or happy. "Why didn't you tell me that days ago?"

"You think I haven't tried?"

"I think you've been an asshole for the last few days."

This offhand remark flared up Rick's temper, giving rise to the hurt and resentment that had been smouldering for the whole week. "I'm the asshole?" he questioned.

She blinked at him. "Yes."

He gripped the steering wheel tightly. "Then what was that the other day?" he asked, glancing at her while he drove. "At the RV?"

He saw the moment realisation dawned on her, the moment guilt flashed across her face. "I di-"

"Since when do we treat each other like that?" he cut her off. "Since when do we just get up and leave after sex, as if we don't love each other?"

From the corner of his eye he saw her eyes looking into her lap, her expression downcast. She knew what she had done, and she knew now that her indifference had hurt him. "I'm sorry," she said quietly, her remorse genuine.

Rick let her apology settle, but he didn't acknowledge it. "Why did you do that?"

She was slow to answer. "It wasn't you," she replied quietly. "I just wasn't in a very good mood, that's all."

"No, I've seen you in not good moods. You've never been cold, or indifferent. So why then?"

Carrie gave a great sigh, shifting in her seat as she rested her elbow back onto the window sill. This time when she answered she did so more confidently, her voice stronger. "I knew that you wanted to talk things through, to work everything out."

"Yes."

"I was upset, and I didn't want to say something cruel to you. Something I couldn't take back."

He looked at her, cautiously curious. "Like what?"

Looking at him incredulously, she gave a bitter laugh. "I didn't mean it then, and I won't mean it now…I'm not saying it."

Though he was dissatisfied with her answer he had no choice but to accept it. He turned his attention back to the road for a short while, his eyes automatically lowering to check that had the gas necessary to get home. His hands were still clenched around the steering wheel, but he struggled to relax them.

"If you don't want to talk to me, you want to know what you should do?" he began again, not ready to let it go. "Tell me no. Tell me to fuck off, I won't even care if you hit me…just don't lead me into thinkin' we're working something through when you know we're not. What you did was cruel."

"I told you I'm sorry," she said firmly. "And I am not the only one being cruel."

"What have I done now?"

"You give a really cold shoulder too. And you know what you said to me…"

Though he knew what she referred to, Rick didn't acknowledge it. She was right, that much was true, he was particularly good at holding a grudge and giving a cold shoulder, even to her. Had he learnt nothing from the way things went between he and Lori? He had not learnt to let his pride determine how long he gave someone a cold shoulder? Looking at Carrie from the corner of his eye he knew he didn't want to make the same mistakes with her that he had with Lori. It haunted him that Lori had died without ever hearing his forgiveness, or that he loved her...making those same mistakes with Carrie was unfathomable, and yet he was risking that very thing.

"Carrie, I need to know that you understand where I'm coming from. These are my children we're been talking about. You have to protect them too. You understand that, right?"

She nodded without hesitation. "Yes, of course." She looked at him seriously, holding his gaze until he had to look back at the road. "I'll protect them with my life. You know that, don't you?"

He nodded, gripping the steering wheel as he braced himself for his next question. "Would you kill for them?"

"Of course," she said emphatically. "I'd kill to save their life, I wouldn't hesitate."

"I'd kill for less," he said candidly, though he tried to be gentle with his approach. "I'd kill to protect their happiness, and I understand why you won't...why you can't." Pausing, he turned to his right and glanced at her, seeing that he had her full attention. "I know you Carrie. You want to give people a chance, to give the benefit of the doubt. That's who you are, and I accept that. But that's not me."

"If that's true, then why did you let Gordon into Alexandria? Why do you let Aaron and Daryl go recruiting?"

"That's me deciding which battle to fight, because I know I can't fight them all. But I don't want to take risks where my children are concerned, even if that means I have to kill someone in cold blood."

"Like Pete?" she questioned softly. "Ron too? You just got done saying you know you can't kill them."

"I know I can't...but if something happens I might have to." He paused for a moment, letting that thought linger. "I've accepted you for who you are, I always have. Now I need you to do the same for me. Either you accept this part of me as who I am, or you don't."

The subsequent silence was heavy, Rick's stomach churning with worry as he waited for Carrie to say something. There was no doubt that he had completely put himself out there, that he was exposed for her to either accept or reject. The wait was excruciating, the silence stretching on longer than he could bear, though in reality it was barely thirty seconds.

"Carrie?" he finally spoke up, unable to bear her silence any longer. "Do you?"

She swallowed heavily, but didn't look him in the eye when she spoke. "I don't know."

These three words were more difficult to hear than he expected, her uncertainty in him making his chest tighten momentarily. It wasn't an outright rejection, but nor was it the certainty and acceptance he had hoped to hear. Perhaps she noticed the way he flinched, the way his arms tensed at her answer for she hastened to continue, finally looking at him properly.

"I love you," she said emphatically. Reaching out she took his closest hand off the steering wheel, bringing it to the seat between them and holding it tightly. "That hasn't changed...it won't."

"I know."

There was another silence now, Carrie's fingertips running along the back of his knuckle that still bore a healing cut from his fight with Pete. "I think Judith looks like you," she commented kindly. "It's her eyes. They're the same as yours, and-"

"Carrie, don't."

"But I-"

"You're only seeing what you want to see. I see it too."

Honouring his request she changed the subject. "I've been thinking," she began, sounding a little uncertain of herself. "Maybe it would be good for us if we…if we take a break."

Her suggestion came completely out of nowhere, the absurdity of it startling him and making the pick up swerve a little. Wrenching his hand out of hers he quickly corrected the steering wheel, his heart pounding as the wheels hit the dirt on the roadside before straightening again. Turning, he looked at her in disbelief, trying to comprehend what she had just said. "Take a break?"

"It might be good for us," she said quietly, seeing how poorly received her suggestion was.

"No," he said abruptly, shaking his head and turning back to the road. "That's out of the question. Don't even bring it up again."

"Just, hear me out."

"No!" he exclaimed loudly, seeing her jump from the corner of his eye. "What the hell is wrong with you? We're not breaking up."

She opened her mouth, but at the last minute she hesitated as if rethinking what she was going to say. With a long sigh she put her elbow up on the window sill, allowing the wind to whip her hair back off her neck. "I've been spending a lot of time with Jessie…she's lonely."

"So?"

"I'm worried she might try to invite Pete to come and stay the night…she was talking about it the other day."

Rich shook his head at this. "Jessie knows I won't allow that."

"I was just thinking, it might be a good idea for me to go and stay with her for a little while. She suggested it actually…I think she's hoping I might. Like I said, she's feeling lonely."

"Is this happening before or after we break up?" he asked scathingly.

"I never said we should break up," she corrected him, her voice becoming tense to match his own. "That's not what I want."

He knew what she was doing, that leaving was her way of trying to coax Carl into coming home. "You're not going to stay with Jessie," he said shortly. "That's final."

Carrie's hackles raised at this remark. "That's final?"

"Yes."

"This isn't the nineteen fifties," she fumed, her temper rising with his. "I'm not your little woman who will do as you say."

"And yet despite that, you'll still do exactly what I say, because you know I'm right."

"Stop being such an asshole, at least hear me out. If you and I take a break, and I go to Jessie's for a little while, Carl will come home. You need him to come home Rick, you-"

"Carl's problem is not with you!" he growled angrily. "It's with me, and you know it. Breaking up and running away isn't going to solve anything."

"I never said break up," she tried to remind him. "And I know our relationship is not what upset him the most, but it's still a problem. Maybe if I'm not around so much, he'd be willing to come home."

"No."

"He won't even talk to you! Don't you want to fix that?"

"Of course I want to fix that. Of course I want my son to come home, but you leaving is not going to achieve anything! Carl will come home when he's ready."

"But it won't hurt," she said calmly.

"He's punishing me," he said emphatically. "He's punishing me for lying to him, and he won't come home until he either thinks I've been punished enough, or he needs something. Either way, you're presence and our relationship doesn't matter. So stop talking bullshit and get on my side for once!"

"I am on your side!" she exclaimed. "What other side could I be on?"

"I don't know Carrie, but you seem to be picking everything except me."

"C-can you even see what's happening to us right now?" she pestered, her voice becoming heavy with emotion. "This is why I think we need a break. We always end up here."

"And where's here?"

"All we're doing is fighting and taking everything out on each other. That's not the kind of relationship I want."

Reaching breaking point, Rick slammed the heel of his palm against the steering wheel and shouted at her. "We are not breaking up! You hear me? We're not breaking up!"

Carrie's reaction to this made his heart sink, for he knew instantly that he had crossed a line. She shrank back into her seat and turned away, her body unconsciously leaning towards the door and away from him. Her left hand was balled up into a fist, her right hand fingers tightly pressing into the plaster cast…she was trying to hide the fact that she was shaking, that his outburst had upset her…perhaps even frightened her.

 _Fuck…you're such an asshole._

"I'm sorry," he said quietly, his heart full of regret. "Carrie? I'm sorry."

She nodded shortly, but he caught a glimpse her of lower jaw trembling before he was forced to look back at the road. The silence was excruciating to sit through, his heart beating out of his chest as he waited for her to say something, to say anything. Was she frightened of him? Did she think he might hurt her? That he was capable of laying a hand on her?

"Carrie, I'd never hurt you," he began, unable to stand the silence. "You know that, right?"

She nodded for a second time, and then cleared her throat. "I know," she assured him, her voice tight. She still wouldn't look at him. "But you're very intimidating when you're angry."

"I'm sorry. That wasn't my intention."

"You can't talk to me like that," she insisted, her voice wavering at the end.

"I'm sorry," he repeated, meaning it with everything he had. "It won't happen again."

Though she acknowledged his apology by nodded her head, her body language did not change. She still sat with her body angled away from him, her jaw tight and her fist clenched in her lap.

"So, we had our fight, just like you wanted," she said quietly, finally looking at him. "You feel better?"

There was nothing he could say in reply, so once again an uncomfortable silence fell between them. Regretting that he had allowed his temper to get the better of him, he turned his full attention back to the road as he tried to think. He didn't understand what she was trying to do, why she kept talking about taking a break…that meant only thing to him. Either they were together or they weren't, for him there was no in between, there was no grey area. The more he thought about it,the more he knew what it was that made him snap, that got him so worked up…it was the fear that she did want to break up. Rationally he knew this was not the case, that she loved him, that she was willing to work on their problems like he was, but it wasn't as simple as that.

She blamed him for their problems with Carl, she resented him for letting this get out of hand…she wasn't sure if she accepted him as a man with two sides, one of which would kill as he felt necessary. That was a lot for her to take on, a lot for her to deal with…his temper had broken from the fear that she wouldn't be willing to take that on, that she would one day have enough and leave.

He looked at her for a moment, wishing her body language would change, that she would soften a little. All he wanted to do was reach out and take her hand, because even though he suspected she didn't want his comfort right now, he needed hers. They sat two feet away from each other, and yet they'd never been more further apart than they were right now. He needed her to do something, to say something that would bring him a small amount of relief, and yet he couldn't bring himself to reach out and ask for it. After the argument they just had, after everything he had done, he wasn't sure he deserved it.

The only relief that would come to him was their arrival at the safe house, the log cabin appearing as the road curved around to reveal it. Putting everything else aside, he and Carrie refocused themselves and honed their attention onto their surroundings. At first glance the area looked clear, but when he pulled the truck to a stop in the middle of the clearing they didn't get out. Going about their usual precautions, they remained in the truck for a few moments as they looked around, assessing the tree line for signs of movement.

Poised with his hand on the door handle, he checked once more. "You good?" he asked.

It was a standard question to ask before they departed their vehicle, but one she seemed to take offence to today. She opened her door and stepped out, her dismissal made worse by the sound of her muttering under her breath, but what she said was definitely not in English. It was all too easy to turn his hurt and fears into frustration, and so he killed the engine and followed her out.

"Did you just swear at me in Spanish?" he questioned, pocketing the keys as he looked at her.

"Excuse me?" she feigned ignorance, her eyes narrowed.

He slammed the truck door shut, glaring at her as they drew their weapons and headed towards the cabin. "I used to be a cop. I know when someone's calling me an asshole, even in Spanish."

"I can call you an asshole in German, French and Italian too."

Despite their less than friendly exchange, they temporarily set it all aside as they got to work. They quickly circled the log cabin and checked on all the doors and windows, glad to see that they seemed untouched. Coming back around to the front, he let Carrie keep watch while he crouched down and lifted the welcome mat to check the carbon paper underneath. He grit his teeth when he saw the black footprints that littered the white paper, and he got Carrie's attention and showed them to her.

"We've had a visitor," she commented. Keeping this in mind, she readjusted her grip on her gun and looked around again.

"Two at least," he said, observing the footprints and noticing two different prints. At least two people, probably one his height and one slightly smaller judging by the sizes. Judging by the three tread patterns and the various stances, the taller person was wearing two different shoes, which was not uncommon these days.

Without further ado he and Carrie entered the cabin, opening the makeshift drapes and taking a quick look around. Though the contents appeared untouched, Rick knew that they would have to come back today and empty the place out. Someone had found them here, someone knew they'd be coming back…that was the only explanation he could see as to why they hadn't broken a window to seek shelter inside. Seeking confirmation of his suspicion, he went back outside and went to the hunting camera they had hidden up in the porch rafters, one that would take still shots whenever they detected movement. It was stuffy in the cabin, yet Rick returned and opened their laptop on the kitchen counter.

Seeing what he was doing, Carrie came and looked over his shoulder, neither of them saying a word to each other. He loaded the SD card and found dozens of photographs, far more than the camera usually took. While ever the cabin remained undiscovered the only movement to be detected was from Walkers and the occasional animal, and seeing the amount of photographs there today confirmed that the cabin had been found by people.

Scrolling through them, his heart sank when he saw the two figures appearing in the tree line, and though the photographs weren't of the highest quality he knew who it was. The bedraggled clothing and lack of supplies was enough to tell him these people were Wolves, the people who had become a thorn in Rick's since the first time he'd seen a Walker with a W. As he flicked through the photographs he observed the two figures making their discovery of the cabin, just able to make out the wonder in their faces as they approached it. They did the usual things like looking through all the covered windows and trying every entrance, but to his surprise they made no genuine effort to get inside. Instead they sought shelter on the front porch and spent the night, only to get up and disappear back into the woods the following morning…that morning in fact.

"I'm going to get some fresh air," Carrie muttered, losing interest in the pictures and heading for the front door.

"Be careful out there," he said, the words coming automatically. "They could still be around."

To his relief, his concern for her wasn't thrown back in his face. "I will," she assured him.

He turned and watched her go, observing the way she took a careful look around as she emerged back into the sunlight. Though he was satisfied she was being vigilant, he watched her a little longer. She went to the truck and opened the passenger door, and when she began rifling around in the pack they had he knew she wasn't going to find the water she was looking for. Pulling out their coats, spare weapons, ammunition and medical kit, she dumped them all on the seat and then gave a sigh of frustration, seeing that there was no water. It was his fault, having left his satchel hanging in Button's stable, but they had plenty of it here. He braced himself for her to come back inside, for her to mutter under her breath about his oversight, but she didn't. Instead she packed everything back into the glove compartment and then headed around to the front of the truck. She picked up a long stick from the ground and then seated herself on the truck's grill guard, her shoulders hunched as she slid it inside her cast and started scratching her arm. Now that the weather was getting warmer there was always an itch bothering her.

Waiting to be sure she was intermittently checking her surroundings, Rick stopped watching her and turned back to the laptop. Feeling tired from many nights of poor sleep, he picked it up and brought it over to the couch, slumping down in the cool darkness and scrolling through the pictures again. He could just make out the faces, but it was the hair and clothing he paid most attention to, that being the easiest to remember. It wasn't like the old days when a person's face stayed the same and their clothing changed daily. These days the clothing was generally the same, and the faces changed…cheeks could be gaunt with starvation one week and then fuller the next, skin could be clean one minute and then filthy. The pictures were too blurry to properly confirm the presence of a W on their foreheads, but he was comfortable in his instincts that they were indeed part of the Wolves group. The assumption fit their clothing, as well as their behaviour…what sane person would find perfectly good shelter, only to sleep outside?

Setting aside the laptop, Rick closed his eyes and put his head back, resting for a little while. Just like everything else, these Wolves were a problem whose solution was just a little too far out of his grasp. There was nothing he could do about these people except sit back and wait for them to make themselves known. He couldn't hunt them down and kill them all, not if he didn't know where they were. It was quite possible they didn't have a dedicated camp, that they were nomads who moved around day to day, sleeping under the stars and taking advantage of whatever opportunities arose. For a horrible moment he was reminded of Carrie, of her time right before they had met. She had been following a road until she went into the woods looking for water, and it was then that she became disoriented and couldn't find her way back. It was bad enough that she was completely on her own, but she had spent weeks in that forest, slowly losing her belongings, clinging to the children's butter knife and bottle of dirty water that was her only salvation.

Comparing her experience to the Wolves, he knew they had to have supplies of some kind. He knew first hand that it was almost impossible to keep a group of people alive without supplies, and that was a group of sane people. Then again, perhaps a little insanity had been what kept these Wolves going. As deluded as they were in the belief that they had to kill people to free them, perhaps that delusion had kept them alive, had given them a reason to go on. Rick knew first hand that if one had no reason to even try, they'd give up. Again he thought about Carrie…she must have thought about wanting to die all the time, she must have spent hours laying in the dirt as she searched for a reason to get up again. It had been a long time since he'd thought about her experiences prior to meeting him, for it often felt like she'd been with him all along. Had he stopped appreciating her? Instead of recognising her strength and determination, had he been trying to suppress it for his own selfish desire to keep her safe?

He started thinking about some of the things she had said, knowing that she was right about much of it. It had been wrong of her to not tell him what happened with Pete, but he understood her desire to protect him from himself. She was right to be mad at him, but she was not right about everything. They were not breaking up, and she wasn't leaving, he wouldn't allow either of those two things…but they did need to change the way they were treating each other. Fighting could be perfectly healthy for a relationship, but their fights felt more like an attempt to assign blame while maintaining the moral high ground. Their fighting achieved nothing except turning them against each other.

Roused from his thoughts by sound coming from his radio, Rick opened his eyes and glanced at it on his duty belt. A small amount of static came across the airwaves, and he sat up as he listened intently, waiting to hear something. There must be other people around, and though it was quite possibly someone from Alexandria, no one was scheduled to be out on runs except he and Carrie. Tense with anticipation, he listened as she static continued, and then his heart leapt when he heard Carrie's voice.

"Hello," was the only thing she said.

Recognising the tone and inflexion, that she was extending a greeting, Rick's hand drifted to his holstered Colt as he slowly got to his feet, staying low. The drapes were open, and he stayed away from an outsider's line of sight as he swiftly crossed to the front windows. He paused and listened for a few moments, but Carrie said nothing else. Peering outside, he searched until he found Carrie where he had last seen her, sitting on the grill guard. She was looking out towards the tree line, and her hand rested on the radio clipped to the right hand side of her belt, holding down the button so that he could hear her from inside.

Moving his line of sight to a different angle, Rick felt a surge of adrenaline when he saw who it was slowly coming towards her. He recognised the man from the hunting camera's photographs, one of the people who had spent the night sleeping on the front porch. They hadn't disappeared back into the woods to return to where they came from, instead they had been lying in wait, somehow knowing that eventually someone would come back to this place. Tall and burly, his hair long and bedraggled, he was cautiously making his way closer to Carrie, a pistol raised to her.

"You've been crying," his deep voice remarked. "Why?"

As Carrie replied, Rick took his Colt from its holster and moved towards the door, methodically opening the chamber and looking at all six rounds. He knew exactly what had to be done, there would be no hesitation on his part.

"Just…be still."

* * *

A/N Please be sure to leave a review, I worked really hard to get this chapter ready for the usual Thursday posting, and I hope you guys are enjoying the ups and downs!


	44. Chapter 44

"I'm going to get some fresh air," Carrie muttered, losing interest in the pictures and heading for the front door.

"Be careful out there," he said, the words coming automatically. "They could still be around."

Hearing the concern in his voice, Carrie sought to reassure him. "I will."

Grateful to be getting some privacy, she breathed a sigh of relief as she stepped out into the sunlight again. Taking care to be vigilant, she looked around as she headed for the truck, slowly scanning their surroundings for signs of any movement. Satisfied that they were safe, she opened the passenger door to the truck and began searching for some water, needing to relieve her thirst. But to her frustration she found no sign of the satchel Rick usually brought with him outside the walls, no sign of any food or water. In disbelief she opened the glove compartment and emptied the contents onto the seat, and then looked into the very back of the pick up truck. Had Rick really brought no food or water with them?

Bowing her head and reigning in her frustration, she didn't allow herself to blame Rick entirely for this oversight. The expectations of those leaving Alexandria were clear…you were responsible for your own supplies, don't depend on anyone else. In the midst of her problems she had grown complacent, and had neglected to double check that they had everything she and Rick might need before they left. This was as much her fault as it was his.

Berating herself for the oversight, she stuffed everything else back into the glove compartment and then sat herself on the truck's grill guard, wishing that Rick had thought to park in the shade. It was bad enough that Tobin's truck didn't have air conditioning, they didn't need to make it worse by allowing the interior to get hot. It was comforting to worry about stupid things like a hot truck, for at least these problems had an easy solution, something that helped her fill the need to solve something. A too hot truck was easily fixed by rolling down the windows…their relationship problems were a little harder.

Trying not to think about any of it, she gently slid a thin stick she had found into her cast, moving it around gently so that it didn't break. She had a knitting needle on her nightstand that was perfect for scratching every itch, but for now this stick would have to do. She had at least another three weeks to go before Pete would take off this cast (though she got the feeling she'd be making Denise her main practitioner for the near future), and she was very much looking forward to its removal. It was bad enough that she had a handicap, but the itching and sweating brought about by the warmer weather made it almost unbearable. Thankfully the cast seemed to have loosened a little, or perhaps her arm was losing muscle tone…either way it was perfectly suited to taking a knitting needle at three o'clock in the morning when she couldn't sleep.

Removing the stick now that the itching had subsided, Carrie looked around again, raising her sunglasses so that she could take a proper look. There was nothing there, no movement even from animals, only the peaceful serenity of solitude. She basked in it, for she knew she and Rick had a long journey ahead of them to check on the other safe houses. Dwelling on him and their problems, she resolved herself to being less of a bitch and a little more patient. She was mad as hell for many things, but she wasn't the only one suffering right now.

The cabin of the truck was really quite spacious, but the tension she and Rick brought with them as they left Alexandria changed that. It felt like the walls were closing in on her as they began fighting, the tense words and anger making the space smaller and smaller, the sense of being trapped only making them lash out even more. She knew she was provoking him, but it seemed she had invited more than she could handle, for when he suddenly shouted and slammed his palm against the steering wheel she'd felt a moment of genuine fear. That feeling passed quickly, his apology coming even faster, but she couldn't change the way it had felt when he did that. In that moment she had seen not him, but just another man who could hurt her, someone bigger and stronger who was angry. The last time she felt intimidated by him was the day they met, when he and Daryl took her into the woods and told her to clean herself up before joining them. Since then, she'd never felt a flicker of intimidation or uncertainty around him, until today.

Feeling her arm begin to itch again, she sighed as she slipped the stick back inside the cast and started poking around for the right spot.

Perhaps him shouting at her had been a blessing in disguise, for their argument seemed to reach a conclusion after that moment. Still being a bitch she had to have the last word, not that it had achieved anything except awkward silence. She pictured the way Rick was white knuckling the steering wheel, the way his knee bounced restlessly. Though she was proud of him for trying to give up smoking, she also felt grim satisfaction to see him suffering through the cravings.

What kind of person was happy to see the man they loved suffering?

Questioning everything about herself, especially whether or not she even deserved Rick anymore, she started thinking about Jessie again. Her suggestion that Carrie come and stay with her had come completely out of nowhere, perhaps fuelled by the bottle of wine they had been sharing last Tuesday night, but it was one she was now seriously considering. Jessie was painfully lonely since her separation with Pete, particularly given that Ron still refused to move out of the Infirmary and Sam was caught between trying to love both of his parents. She didn't blame Jessie for wanting extra company, for inviting her to come and stay.

"You know, if you ever need to get away," Jessie insisted, topping up their wine glasses. "There's a bed here for you. You could come and stay for a while…for as long as you need. We could have a slumber party."

Though she knew it would be of great benefit for Jessie to have some adult company around, particularly in the evenings when Sam was in bed, Carrie had initially refused the offer. But as the next two days passed and it became clearer that Carl was not going to cool off and return home, she started reconsidering the suggestion. It made sense that if part of the problem had gone, Carl would come home to Rick, that he'd feel more comfortable without Carrie there, but Rick hadn't agreed. Vehemently opposing her suggestion that she move out and they take a short break, his anger had escalated quickly.

She knew it couldn't be easy for him being caught between his son and her, that he was trying to make both relationships work without compromise, but she didn't think it was possible…at least not right now. Instead she focused her mind on the conversation she and Carol had a while back, the warning that she not get in between Rick and his children. It was beginning to feel more and more like that's what was happening, despite their efforts to avoid it. Carl had moved out and was giving his father the cold shoulder, partly because of Rick's relationship with her. What they needed was privacy, the opportunity for father and son to come back together and start working things out. They couldn't do that while Carrie was around.

Talking herself into it more and more, she knew she needed to convince Rick that taking a break was the right thing to do. Her delivery of the suggestion had been poor, for he had clearly taken it as her wanting to break up with him, but that wasn't the case at all. All she meant was for them to get some space from each other, space that would allow him to focus on his children for a short period of time. She still wanted to be with him, she still loved him…how was taking a break any different to what they were doing now? They barely spoke two civil words to each other since Carl had learnt about their relationship…they needed some time apart to cool down, to let their temper and hurt feelings settle.

The stresses just kept coming at the moment, little things compounding on one another to make it all the worse. Earlier this week a supply run for Buttons had been in order, but as if problems were contagious and she were a leper, Glenn's run crew went without her. She knew it wasn't personal, that with her broken wrist she couldn't contribute to a great deal of the required heavy lifting, but being left behind was harder than she anticipated, especially after having Glenn's promise that she could go on the next venture. Hell, even Tara went on this run, and she was unconscious for days last month. In retrospect Carrie knew that she was jealous, resentful that the run crew got to leave Alexandria while she was stuck there, wallowing in her problems. As if to rub it in her face, the local feed store was burnt out, necessitating a longer trip upstate that required an overnight run. Never before had she felt resentful of her group, but as she watched them departing in the delivery van for an overnight trip, she did.

Carrie's whole body froze when she felt the stick inside her cast break, her heart skipping a beat for sure. She paused for a moment before carefully beginning to extract it, holding her breath as she prayed that the pieces were still joined together. Her lower lip began to tremble when she realised a large portion had been left inside, and her heart raced when she saw that she wouldn't be able to reach it. Tossing the other end aside, she adjusted her cast to create room and then shook her arm, trying to dislodge the piece she could feel halfway down. When she felt that it wasn't budging there was a horrible moment in which she simply basked in the awfulness, unable to believe what she had done.

She promptly burst into tears.

As everything came crashing down on her the tears flooded down her cheeks, and it was all she could do to cry in silence. She let out a few audible sobs before sealing her lips shut and forcing her chest to stop heaving, quietening the howl of despair that she wanted to release. Everything was going to pieces all around her, and it felt like there was nothing she could do to fix it, to put things back together. Letting the tears fall she wracked her mind for the solution, needing to know what it would take to fix all of this. Since Noah had died she had gained her relationship with Rick, but everything else slowly began to fall apart…things had been simpler before she and Rick became serious, even though it hadn't been the fulfilling relationship they both wanted.

She had never felt more disconnected from him than she did in this very moment, despite the depth of their love for one another. Everything they were fighting about when it came to killing Pete was something they'd fought about before, something they understood they were unlikely to see eye to eye on. On the supply run when they had come across Granger, they had fought about how Rick had killed the other innocent members of his group. While Rick was unwilling to take the chance of not returning to his children, Carrie had wanted to give them the benefit of the doubt, to give them a chance.

This was what they would not agree on, this was what caused their conflict over Pete. Rick wanted to take out the threat to his children immediately, without regard for the consequences that would befall other people…Carrie didn't see things in black and white the way he did. Her sense of morality was still grey, still uncertain. Their experiences outside of Alexandria were similar, but at the same time dramatically different. Every step of the way Rick had someone he could depend on, a support network, whereas Carrie hadn't. Keeping people alive was nothing like running an agency department, and leadership of her last group had come to her reluctantly, because no one else was willing to make a tough call. She had no one to support her, whereas Rick had. He didn't seem to second guess himself, whereas Carrie did…was that the root of their differences? Was that why she couldn't see things in black and white the way he did?

Looking up at the cabin, she tried to convince herself to go inside, knowing that despite their argument, Rick's comfort would be willingly given. Perhaps a display of emotion other than anger and resentment would help, would break the ice and snap them out of the routine of griping at one another. She remembered the day Noah and Aidan had died, the comfort his quiet embrace had brought her late that night. It was what she needed right now, it was what they both needed from each other. If they could just be vulnerable with one another for a short time, Carrie was sure that things would change, that they'd change the way they worked against each other. She wanted them to call a truce, to start afresh and change the way they were treating each other…this couldn't go on.

Confident in her solution, she looked towards the cabin as she began to slide off the truck's hood, but she stopped when she saw movement from the corner of her eye. Noticing the trees moving, she resigned herself to taking care of a Walker first, and so she settled back to where she was sitting and began waiting for it. She withdrew her knife and waited, knowing it was best to wait and see exactly how many she was up against, for with only one hand she was reluctant to take on two if they were close together. She relaxed a little when she saw only one figure emerge from the trees, but this feeling passed when she took a good look. It wasn't a Walker at all, it was a person…in fact, it was one of the people she had just seen photographed by the hunting cameras, one who had just spent the night sleeping on the cabin's front porch.

They approached her without fear, their bedraggled clothing swamping their body. It was a tall, heavy set man with broad shoulders, his filthy black hair longer than hers, and he walked with the uneasy gait of someone who's shoes were a size too small. Though his hands hung limply by his side, in his right he carried a silver pistol which seemed minuscule in his hands. Acting swiftly, Carrie slid down from the hood of the truck and reached for her own gun, but despite his slow approach the man was quicker. In an instant he had raised the gun towards her, his finger poised on the trigger and ready to fire.

Without speaking he shook his head at her, and doing as she was told she lifted her hand from her gun holster, but she didn't raise them. Unconcerned, he looked at her other hand which now held her knife, and using the gun he indicated towards it. Understanding what he wanted, she cooperatively tossed it away, though not too far. She resisted the impulse to glance up towards the cabin, not wanting to give away the fact that she wasn't here alone. There was no telling how much this man had seen, whether or not he knew Rick was around.

Despite the situation she found herself in, Carrie did not feel afraid, and when the man used his gun to point to the hood of the truck she cooperated again. Resuming her seat on the grill guard, she made sure that she put her weight on the hood, hearing the metal flexing loudly. The entire interaction had been silent so far, and if she was getting out of this alive she had to make some kind of noise that wouldn't set the man off…judging by the W she could see on his forehead, he wasn't exactly in a great state of mind. Considering her options for a moment, a loud coughing fit or the like, she flexed her right arm as though the cast was bothering her, and then lowered it to her right hand hip as she rolled her shoulder. The performance worked, and though his eyes flickered to her cast, he seemed to not notice what she was doing.

Waiting until his eyes were back on hers, Carrie pressed the button on her radio. "Hello," she greeted the man clearly, knowing that Rick would be able to hear this.

The man did not return her greeting, but instead tilted his head and looked at her critically. He came a little closer, the gun still trained on her, his finger on the trigger ready to fire. Despite his power over her he seemed cautious, his feet shuffling in the dirt.

"You've been crying," he stated, speaking for the first time. His voice was hoarse and deep, the sound echoing in his broad chest. "Why?"

Without removing her thumb from the radio, she flexed her elbow to draw attention to her cast. "My wrist…it hurts."

To her surprise, he looked sympathetic. "Yeah? Mine too…"

Not knowing what to say next she watched as he kept coming closer, his approach so subtle she hadn't noticed at first. Again she resisted the impulse to look towards the cabin. She knew that Rick was in there, that by now he would be aware of the situation…she just had to trust him to handle this, to help her. She couldn't draw her gun, and she sure as hell couldn't take on anyone in a fist fight, let alone a man twice her size.

"What do you want?"

There was a short pause before he answered, and he was still coming closer…barely five yards away now. "I want you."

A shiver went down her spine at this answer, her blood running cold as she was struck by a memory. Granger and his men had said the same thing to her when she'd been negotiating for her group's survival, right before she agreed to let them have sex with her in exchange for her group's lives. Though she knew that would never happen again, and that it was unlikely this man wanted that from her, his answer made her feel the same way it had then.

"That's close enough," she said firmly.

Surprise crossed his face, and he actually smiled at her. Heeding her instructions, he came to a stop. "Shhhh," he said, his voice becoming soft and comforting. "Just…be still."

"What?" she asked, taken aback.

"Be still," he repeated in a soothing tone.

For some odd reason she did as he asked her too, his voice lulling her into a momentary lapse of awareness. She felt peaceful, the silence relieving every stress and worry she had in the back of her mind, but it was also the silence that alerted her to the danger. After a long moment she heard a slight scuffle, a sound coming from behind her, and without thinking she reacted. Tucking her broken wrist against her stomach she dove to her right, away from the sound of whatever was behind her, and then a booming gunshot rang out across the clearing.

The next events passed in a quick blur, and it was over as quickly as it began. As she tumbled off the truck's hood and onto the ground the man followed, grabbing her by the knees with almighty yell. She looked up to see him rearing over her, holding his gun by the barrel as he raised it in the air and prepared to bring it down on her. Knowing she wasn't strong enough to force him away, she brought her feet up between them and drove the heel of her boot up towards the tip of his nose, hoping to injure him. She kicked as hard as she could, watching while the gun fell to the ground with a graceful arc. His howl of agony indicated she had hurt him, and in the brief moment that he lost focus and pressed his hands to his face Carrie drew her Ruger from its holster.

Another booming gunshot echoed through the clearing, but not from her gun. The man above her shuddered violently, his hands falling from his face to reveal the gaping wound in the top of his head, and she had just enough wits about her try and move away as he fell. He collapsed on top of her in a crushing heap, all the breath leaving her body as it protested the heavy weight. Fighting against the dead weight, her ribs and hips protested the most as warm blood began spreading across her shoulder, the smell of it in combination with the man's stench making her gag. Seconds later Rick was there, growling under his breath as he hauled the heavy weight off of her, and as the relief came she breathed in and started to cough.

"Carrie? Are you hurt?" he asked urgently, scrambling to her side. "Carrie?"

Still catching her breath, she shook her head as she began to sit up, but he quickly stopped her, his hands hands coming to her shoulders.

"Stay still."

"I'm not hurt," she assured him, brushing off his instructions and sitting up.

"Stay still!"

Hearing the urgency in his tone she did as she was told, freezing in a half sitting position and closing her eyes when he told her to. Her heart still racing from what had just happened, she held her breath as he very gently began to touch her face, his finger tips lightly touching her eyelids. Finally she felt a few puffs of air on her face, and it was only when he let her open her eyes that she realised she was covered in glass, that he'd been brushing shards of it off her face and away from her eyes. She looked up and saw that the shot he fired had hit the truck's passenger window. Following his lead, she let him brush off the rest of the pieces and then accepted his hand to pull her to her feet. Reorienting herself, she took a deep breath and then stood up straight before finding her gun and putting it back into the holster.

"Thank you," she said, looking down at the dead man on the ground, watching as a pool of blood formed beneath his head.

Nodding shortly, he headed around the front of the truck and looked at someone on the other side. He closed his eyes for a brief moment, his shoulders sagging. "I didn't even see her until she was almost on you."

Following him she came around and looked at the other figure lying dead on the ground, a woman whose appearance was not unlike the man's. Her long hair was spread out in a fan beneath her head, her arm outstretched towards a large machete she had dropped when Rick had shot her. While the man had been distracting her, this woman had snuck up on Carrie with the intention of killing her.

 _"Just…be still."_

Panting for breath, Rick looked at her in admiration. "You did good there. With the radio, dodging her, keeping him off you…Carrie?"

"Thanks," she said again, appreciating his praise. Still looking at the dead woman's body she wondered if she was going into shock, for she didn't feel upset, she didn't feel scared…given what had just happened, she ought to be feeling something other than mild annoyance. But that's all she felt…completely detached from any other emotion, it was if this was just a minor hitch in her day. She was getting used to these things.

"Wait here," Rick said, brushing his hand over her shoulder as he left. "I'll get some water from inside."

As he departed Carrie cleared her throat and took a deep breath, and she looked herself up and down. There was blood on her tank top and left upper arm, her hair clinging to the side of her neck where the man's head wound had been bleeding. Feeling momentary panic she raised her arm and looked at the cast, glad that she hadn't injured it in the altercation, and nor had the cast sustained any damage. She brushed off a little dirt, but the three owls sitting in a tree that Jessie had painted for her were in perfect condition, not marred by even a single drop of blood. Remembering something else she turned on the spot and looked around, sighing in disappointment when she found her broken sunglasses on the ground…they were her favourite.

"Are you okay?" she asked Rick, gratefully accepting his help to clean herself up.

"Yeah," he muttered, his voice heavy with worry. As he tipped the water through her hair and used his fingers to help wash it out, he looked around the woods, still checking they were safe. Having fired two gunshots, Walkers could be coming for them any minute now. "We need to get back to Alexandria, now."

She nodded in agreement as she removed her tank top and dropped it to the ground. "We'll have to clear the cabin out, right? Relocate to a new safe house?"

"Yes, just like we did last week."

As she wrung the water out of her damp hair, Rick unbuttoned his shirt and passed it to her, still wearing a tee-shirt underneath despite the warmth of the day. There was a comfortable pause as she slipped it on and tied a knot on one side, clumsily rolling up the sleeves as Rick stood on watch, being extra vigilant now they had been taken by surprise. Despite everything that was going on, it felt perfectly natural for them to reach out for one another, and so they shared a brief kiss before settling into one another's arms. The familiarity was comforting, especially after having deprived herself of it for so long, and she turned her face into his neck and breathed deeply. Grateful for the moment together, Carrie closed her eyes as she reflected on the past few weeks, still feeling torn about what to do. Moments like this reminded her of how important their relationship was, of the way she wanted to stop taking her frustrations out on him...but at the same time she needed him to stop doing that to her. They were their own worst enemies, that much was apparent.

When she felt him pulling away she did the same, looking up at him with the hope of sharing another kiss, but the expression on his face made her feel uneasy. He was looking at something behind her, his mouth set into a grim line, and she spun around and followed his gaze to find another figure moving through the trees. She knew already that this wasn't a Walker approaching, for the movements were too smooth, distinctly different from the usual stagger and clumsiness of the dead. Moving to stand beside Rick, she turned away and looked around the rest of the clearing, wondering how many more surprises they were going to have that day. She glanced towards the truck and wondered if they should make a run for it, but she knew that they couldn't. With a cabin full of their valuable supplies they couldn't leave now, not with someone there who might rob them of it.

Turning back to the approaching figure, she and Rick stood side by side and watched them approach, his gun already raised and his finger on the trigger. Quite slowly the approaching figure emerged from the trees, allowing Carrie to breath a sigh of relief when it was immediately apparent they weren't carrying a gun, nor could she see a blade. It was a young man, and unless the extent of their starvation deceived her she judged him to be about seventeen or eighteen years of age, his slime frame engulfed by his too large clothing. It was no stretch of the imagination to recognise him as one of the Wolves, for even though the W on his forehead was only faint he fit their description in every other way. But it wasn't this knowledge that made Carrie's palms sweat and her heart pound, it was the intense look of vulnerability in the boy's eyes. They darted around nervously, first looking towards the two dead bodies by the pick up and then to Rick and Carrie.

There was no indication of malice or hostility in the boy's expression, nothing except a look of sheer relief, his shoulder's straightening as though a great weight had been lifted off them. To Carrie's surprise a great smile crossed his face, exposing the broken teeth that looked rather painful, but it seemed not to matter. As he looked at the two dead bodies on the ground he raised his hands to his head and pushed his dirty hair off his face. He clenched it in his fingers as he gave a low laugh, his eyes widening in joy.

In spite of everything Carrie began to echo his smile, having not expected this strange boy to appear so happy at the sight of his dead companions. She tentatively stepped forward now, feeling compelled to go to him, to talk to him and ask if he was alright. It was clear what was going on, that he had been with the two Wolves against his will…the W scar on his forehead was only faint, perhaps only recent, and the loose blindfold around his neck and relief on his face confirmed the rest. Sharing his elation, Carrie smiled at him again, trying to figure out what to say, how she should start. While she had always supported what Daryl and Aaron did, she now understood their determination to go out recruiting, for right now she felt what they must have felt when they brought back Gordon the other week.

The boy looked up at her now, his eyes filled with hope, a renewed belief that things were going to be okay now. She wondered if this was how Rick had felt three months ago, the day he met her standing on the side of the road. Did he experience the same intense need to help her, to do something about the suffering she endured? As she looked at the boy before her she felt nothing other than the desire to do something, to bring him the salvation that had once been brought to her. Her mind getting ahead of her, she pictured her and Rick returning to Alexandria with him, giving him clean clothes and a decent meal.

The serene vision in her mind was shattered by a gunshot, one that came from behind and without warning. Though she knew who it was, having recognised the sound of the gun, Carrie screamed. Before her eyes the boy's head jerked back, the bullet striking him square in the forehead, right where the W had been cut into his skin. He gracefully fell where he stood, a plume of dirt rising up around his body when he struck the ground and became limp. Struck dumb by the shock of what had happened Carrie gaped at the boy, feeling the dreadful weight of horror building in her chest.

She turned to Rick and barely managed to lower her hands from her mouth. "Wh-what have you done?" she cried, staggering towards the boy's body.

Though he lowered his gun and slipped it back into the holster, Rick didn't say anything. She turned away and went to the boy, lowering herself to her knees and hovering over him as though there might be something she could do. Despair welled up inside her as she looked at the teenager's youthful face, her fingertips touching his jaw and able to feel small patches of stubble beneath the dirt that marred his skin. There was very little blood on his face, the majority of it beginning to pool from the exit wound in the back of his head, and she knew better than to look at it. Instead she lowered her hands to his neck, and she trembled as she felt for a pulse that she knew she'd never find. Even though she didn't know this boy, grief erupted in her chest while blame rose into her mouth.

"What's wrong with you?" she cried, turning to look at Rick. "Why did you do that?"

"Because I had to," he said shortly, his jaw clenched as he came over and reached down to grasp her elbow.

Though she let him pull her to her feet, she wrenched her arm out of his hand and staggered back. "We could have helped him."

He looked at her incredulously. "Him?"

"He didn't want to be with those people!"

Rick shook his head, standing firm in his decision. "We couldn't bring him back, and we couldn't leave him here. I had to kill him."

As though that was the end of the conversation he turned and walked away, returning to the bodies of the first two people he had killed that day. Refusing to let him avoid her, Carrie followed him over, her anger escalating. "That's not true. We could have brought him back, we could have helped him. You just didn't want to!" she accused.

To her frustration he ignored what she said. His refusal to engage her only worsened her frustration, and so she looked back to the boy again. "He's not much older than Carl," she commented, looking to see if this would get a reaction from Rick.

It didn't, and he continued ignoring her as he searched through the woman's pockets before rounding the truck and searching the man's. Finally he spoke, but he was talking to himself, expressing his deep relief when he found something of value. He searched the body for one more moment before he stood up and withdrew a long white stick from a squashed box. Carrie watched blankly as he put the prized cigarette between his lips and lit it, his shoulders slumping and his body language relaxing as he took a long drag on it. Muttering something else to himself, he held the cigarette between two fingers as he opened the passenger door of the truck and began sweeping the broken glass off the seat. He grabbed an old blanket from the rear tray and tossed it onto the seats, straightening it out.

"Let's go," he said shortly, leaving the passenger door open and heading for the driver's side. When she didn't move he muttered under his breath and came to a stop, looking at her expectantly. "Carrie, we're leaving." A few moments passed before he spoke. "Are we going to go through this again? I did what I had to do."

"No, you could have helped him," she corrected him, her throat tight with emotion. "You chose not to."

"You're right, I chose not to," he agreed impatiently. "I knew my options, and I chose the consequences I'm willing to live with."

She looked back at the dead boy for a moment, feeling like her mind was spinning out of control and into confusion. "I don't understand," she said weakly, turning back to him. "Three months ago I was no different to him, but you saved me. Why?"

"You _were_ different to him! You didn't have a W carved into your forehead!" he loudly exclaimed, gesturing to the boy.

"But he-"

"As if we could ever trust someone like him! You want to bring that type of danger down on us? Down on my children?"

"You didn't even talk to him."

"I didn't need to. I made my choice the moment I saw him. I chose the consequences I can live with."

"But…" she started, trailing off with a shuddered breath. "He deserved the benefit of the doubt, just like you gave me. We owed him that."

Apathetic, Rick shook his head. "No. I didn't owe him a damn thing. You want to know who I owe? I owe my children, I owe them a safe home, I owe them protection from this shit!"

An awkward silence fell as they reached this impasse, an enormous gulf separating them from one another. Trying to come up with something to say, Carrie looked around desperately, waiting for the right words to come to her, but none did. To her relief, Rick broke the silence, softly calling her name as he dropped the cigarette butt and stamped it out with the toe of his boot.

"I told you months ago back at the prison, one day you would see a side of me that you weren't ready for. Well this is it. This is me," he said simply, gesturing to himself. "This is _who I am_. I'm exactly who I need to be, and I've never tried to hide that from you."

Nodding, she tried to summon enough breath to speak properly. "I know," she whispered. He was right. He'd never hidden this from her, he'd never sought to deceive her.

His shoulders slumped, a weariness coming over his features. "Then what don't you understand?"

Overwhelmed with everything that was happening, tears began welling up in her eyes before she could stop them, and she turned away before he could see. She knew it wasn't a sign of weakness, that Rick wouldn't shy away from her display of emotions, but she didn't want him to comfort her. She didn't know what to do, she didn't know what she was thinking, all she knew was that she wanted to get out of there, to get away from everything that was happening. Hastily wiping her eyes, she took a shuddering breath and then turned around, unsurprised to see that he was coming towards her to bring comfort. But before he could she moved away, walking straight past him and avoiding eye contact.

"Carrie," he said softly, wanting her to listen.

"Just leave me alone," she said breathlessly, her voice weaker than she would have liked.

Unable to speak any further, Carrie looked away as she walked straight past him, ignoring his attempt to comfort her. Forcing herself to hold it together she went to the passenger side and got in, straightening the blanket Rick had tossed across the seats to protect them from the glass. She slammed the door closed as Rick got into the driver's side, the two of them resuming their former places that had elicited their last argument. The silence was excruciating, and it lingered between them as the weight of what just happened began to settle. This was an impasse, a conflict of morals that set them on opposite sides.

The silence stretched on, and from the corner of her eye she could see that Rick was working himself up to saying something, but a few moments later he seemed to change his mind. Without a word he put the keys in the ignition and started the engine, and as he put the truck into gear and set off Carrie turned her gaze to the side mirrors. Preparing herself for a long, difficult journey home, she looked at the body of the young man she had wanted to help. A small part of her still hoped for a miracle, that a mistake had been made and that he was really okay. It felt stupid that she grieved for someone she didn't know, but that didn't change the way she felt. They should have helped that boy, they should have saved him.

She turned to look at Rick as he drove, wanting to say something to him, anything…she wasn't surprised to find that he seemed perfectly fine. Though his shoulders seemed a little tense, he strummed his fingers against the steering wheel like he often did, his concentration safely focused on the road. It seemed like this was just any other day to him, reminding Carrie that what he had done didn't bother him. She knew why he did it, what he had at stake. This wasn't the first time he had killed people he didn't have to, and it wouldn't be the last either.

Not knowing what to say anymore, Carrie turned away.

* * *

Slowly entering the main bedroom, Rick peeked into the crib as he crossed the room and opened the drapes, letting the light fall across Judith's sleeping face. He hated to rouse her from her nap, but if he let her rest much longer she wouldn't go to sleep on time that night. Having refused to sleep for more than fifteen minutes that morning she had been exceptionally tired in the afternoon, and had slept well past her usual waking time. Taking a seat on the bed opposite her crib he waited patiently for her to rouse on her own, knowing that the light would bother her soon enough. As she squirmed a little and rubbed her face he looked out the window at the gloomy weather, watching as heavy raindrops rolled down the glass panes.

As if to echo the sense of dread he had inside of him, the weather that Friday brought them was cold and dark, the heavy clouds indicating the very real possibility of a bad thunderstorm. They'd spent most of the morning getting ready for it, the residents stock piling batteries and generators while Rick and some others managed the outside. As Michonne and Daryl took care of Buttons and the chickens to ensure their housing was secure, the rest cleared Walkers from their spikes and made sure that the pits were as empty as possible. The bad weather always stirred the Walkers up, and he suspected that when the storm came to pass their spikes would be full and their pits cramped.

Rick would never forget the storm that came over his group the night before Aaron found them, the sheer violence and destruction of the strong winds. Alexandria had fared bad weather before, but he wanted to be prepared for anything. In the back of his mind the only thing he could picture was one of the larger trees falling and taking down a section of the walls. All the residents knew to stay in their houses, everyone cooperating with their emergency plans should something terrible happen. They were ready…or at least they hoped they were. The windows in the watch tower were being covered with plastic sheeting, and a weather proof shelter had hastily been erected around the the other watch posts. For now, that was the best they could do.

A short while later Judith was awake, rubbing her eyes as she sat up with a heavy sigh. He allowed her to sit there for a little while, loving the way she awoke in stages. She blinked as she looked around, observing him there on the bed before looking at the toys on the bars of her crib. A few moments of silence passed, and upon deciding that he was of more interest to her than the toys she grunted to herself as she stood up and reached for him. He willingly brought her into his arms and held her against his chest, enjoying the way she rested her head against his shoulder and reached her arm around his neck. He had always enjoyed being the one to fetch her from a nap or to get her up in the mornings, the task always involving a warm, gratuitous cuddle like the one he got now. But nevertheless it couldn't last forever, and a quick sniff test determined that her diaper was wet.

Quickly tending to his daughter and checking on the scraped knee she had fared that morning, Rick mentally tried to plan what his family were going to eat that night. Carol would be spending the night with Bob and Natalie again, wanting to be close lest there be a blackout, while Michonne would be on watch. If left up to Daryl to organise dinner they'd be eating beef jerky and spam, which the more Rick thought about it the more it looked appealing…there'd be fewer dishes at least.

"Do you want spam for dinner?" he asked Judith, knowing exactly the response she would give.

"No," she mumbled, unconcerned with the actual question.

"What about…pancakes?"

"No."

"Toast with peanut butter?"

She turned and looked at him, her attention briefly aroused. "No," she repeated. Looking away she set her eyes on his empty holster, and then lunged for it. "Mine."

"No," he said firmly, turning his hip away and then swiftly picking her up.

As he repeated his words he brushed his hand over the holster, reminding himself that his gun was safely inside the safe and out of her reach. He didn't normally carry it in his holster when he was at home for this very reason, particularly since Judith had taken a liking to the shiny nickel. Still pondering what they might eat for dinner, and remembering that it had been weeks since they'd held Spaghetti Tuesday, he fetched Judith's rain coat. He knew there was little in the kitchen at the moment, so they would need to stop by the Pantry if he wanted to feed his children something more than beef jerky and spam.

As he stepped out into the hallway he came to a pause, looking to the front of the house on his left when he noticed something odd. He could hear Carrie bustling around in her bedroom, but it was her door that surprised him. Normally they left their doors open during the day, the best way to admit light into the otherwise darkened hallway, but today Carrie had closed hers almost all the way. A gap of only a few inches was visible, and through it he saw her silhouette pass by. She passed by again before he heard the sound of her nightstand opening and closing…he knew the sound of those drawers quite well.

Moving Judith onto his other hip, he quietly made his way down the hallway towards her bedroom at the front of the house, wondering what she was doing in there. It was none of his business really, but that didn't stop him wanting to know. They'd fought last night, and since then they'd suspended all niceties and hadn't said a single word to each other. It was worrisome, but in the community's haste to prepare for the impending bad weather he hadn't been able to do anything about it. Perhaps that was a good thing, for he'd spent the previous night seething in anger, and he wasn't so sure that emotion had properly faded yet.

Yesterday afternoon while everyone else had returned to the safe house to start clearing out their supplies, Rick and Carrie had stayed behind. As if knowing what was about to happen Carol made herself scarce by taking Judith to visit someone, and it was then that Rick instigated another argument with Carrie. He knew he shouldn't have, that she was emotionally exhausted from what happened earlier, but he couldn't help it. Everything that had and hadn't been said that afternoon was surrounding him on all sides, and the only way he could get out from the weight of it was to fight about it. He wanted to force the subject until they reached a solution, but he should have known better. When he'd initiated the fight Carrie tried so hard to ignore him, to walk away and give herself some space, and that was what frustrated him even more. She was trying to do the right thing by refusing to engage, whereas he needed this to be over.

He use to think that what he and Lori needed before the outbreak was a big down and out fight, something to break the ice. In hindsight it would have helped them, the heightened emotions helping them get everything off their chests. For all the struggles in their marriage, when they fought they usually fought fairly. That's what he wanted with Carrie right now, except she was doing everything she could to avoid it, to disengage…not that he blamed her. She was upset and at her wits end already, and he shouldn't have pushed her that afternoon, and yet he had.

In the end the only thing they fought about was the same things as before, except this time Rick was driven by fear, not pride. An hour ago he'd openly showed her who he was, the lengths he was willing to go to, and now it felt like she was turning away from him. So despite the fact that he suspected Carl was eavesdropping from the second house and Carrie was on the verge of tears, Rick found that he couldn't stop. He kept stoking their argument and then lost his temper when she tried to disengage. In hindsight he didn't blame her for walking out in tears…he didn't even blame her for throwing a mug at him on her way out.

"What are we doing this to each other?" she screamed at him, the mug hurtling out of her hands and smashing against the wall behind him. "We're supposed to love each other, not do this!"

His own behaviour shocked him, leaving him filled with shame and disgust. Had he ever treated someone as poorly as he treated Carrie? It made no sense to him, his actions didn't correspond to his desire to find a solution. This wasn't the type of person he wanted to be, this wasn't the way he wanted to treat someone he loved, but in the back of his mind he knew what was fuelling his behaviour. When Lori had caught the first glimpse of Rick's future self she had recoiled…now Carrie was going through that. They'd known each other for months now, and he'd shown this side of his character to her before. However their relationship meant so much more now, and the implications of who he was became more serious, more important for her to consider. He'd asked her to accept him for who he was, and she was trying to decide whether she was able to.

The very real possibility that she might not was what scared him.

Reaching her bedroom door, Rick looked through the gap for a few moments and listened, grateful that Judith was unusually silent. There were clothes laid out on Carrie's bed, but she wasn't getting changed. Before he even saw the evidence he knew what was happening, and so he pushed her door open and stepped into the threshold. She was standing in front of her closet, taking a dress off a hanger and roughly folding it. When she turned around and saw him she appeared startled, and guilt crossed her face almost immediately.

"Rick," she said softly, her tone apologetic. "Now's not really a good time."

At the foot of the bed was the pack she had used on the supply run to Georgia. She was leaving. "Were you even going to tell me?"

"Of course I was going to tell you," she replied, her fingers clenched in the dress she held.

She held his gaze for a few moments and then looked away, restlessly tucking her hair behind one ear as she resumed her task. Watching as she began stuffing her clothes into the pack, Rick tried to stem the feeling of panic that grew inside of him, trying to ignore the impulse to stop her, to make her submit to his will. He wanted to put his foot down, to tell her that she wasn't leaving, that he wouldn't allow it, but he stopped himself. She wasn't his child, she didn't answer to him…he had no right to try and control her, no matter how much he wished he could.

"Carrie," he began softly, readjusting Judith on his hip. "I don't want you to leave."

She stopped packing again and looked at him, her expression one of understanding. "I'm not leaving…not really anyway. I'm keeping Jessie company for a little while, that's all this is."

His heart heavy, Rick came further into the room, thinking about the words he chose. He couldn't afford to lose his temper, he couldn't let emotions spiral out of control again. "It feels like you are."

There was a pause as they looked at each other, both unsure of what to say next. They stood on opposite sides of the room, an enormous gulf between them that felt too large to conquer. It felt like everything that had happened in the last few weeks was coming to a head right now. They were about the reach a conclusion, but the awful feeling in the pit of his stomach told him it wasn't the one he was looking for. At the silence stretched on he imagined her walking out the door and not returning, and he could hardly comprehend the magnitude of that.

"Please Carrie. I'm sorry," he said emphatically, meaning it with his entire being. "I'm sorry for everything."

"I'm sorry too," she replied, her voice sounding strained. "But I'm still going to Jessie's."

Rick clenched his jaw, taking a deep breath as he put Judith down. Letting her wander off to look into the closet he came further into the room, bringing himself closer to her where he wanted to be. He wanted to reach out for her, to put his hand on her shoulder or to take her hand, but he hesitated, unsure if his touch would be welcomed. "This isn't necessary," he said before gesturing to her pack. "We can fix this, just tell me how. Tell me what to do."

To his relief Carrie turned to face him, her hand slipping into his as she looked up at him. "I'm doing this for us. We need to take a break," she insisted, bringing up the suggestion she'd made yesterday, one he'd rejected on principle. "This will be good for us."

He shook his head, still disagreeing. "I don't see how us not being together will be good for us. How are we supposed to work things out then?"

Carrie mulled over her response, looking down at their hands. "What was the last nice thing we said to each other?"

"I…" he started, fumbling to find something, to give her an answer. It was with startling horror that he realised he didn't know. He'd praised her for the way she handled herself with the attack yesterday, but he knew that's not the type of answer she was looking for. As his response came to mind he was filled with shame. "I don't know."

She nodded in agreement. "I can't even remember the last _civil_ thing we said to each other, let alone nice."

"We can work on that," he insisted, almost pleading with her. As if she was going to leave him this very second he held her hand a little more firmly, needing her to stay.

"I'm not leaving you. I still love you, I still want to be with you. That hasn't changed."

"Then don't go."

"We need some space from each other." Taking his other hand, she brought them together between them, holding them firmly. "We need some time to cool our heads before we try working things out…at the very least we need to change the way we treat each other."

Her last remark was not without impact. "Yes," he admitted. "We do."

"We can't do that if we're constantly struggling for power."

Rick paused, somewhat taken aback. "You think this is a power struggle?"

She nodded, averting her eyes for a moment. "It's normal in a relationship…but we're not handling it well," she said, sounding ashamed. "I know myself, I know what I'm like. My entire marriage to Logan was one big power struggle, right from the start."

Hearing the sound of something go _thud_ , he reluctantly turned away and saw Judith standing in Carrie's closet, a rather surprised look on her face. Ignoring the impulse to get frustrated with her, for it wasn't her fault his supervision had lapsed, he gave a great sigh before ushering her out of the closet and closing the door. He looked back at Carrie apologetically, but she'd resumed her task. There was an awkward silence, and not knowing what to do next Rick watched as Judith wandered over and looked at what Carrie was doing. Her interest piqued by the bright blue pack she reached out and touched it, her brow furrowing when she felt the texture. Noticing her, Carrie smiled and then looked up at Rick.

"I'm not going to lie, I won't miss the sound of her crying at six o'clock in the morning because you won't give her extra peanut butter."

She was trying to lighten the mood, to make him smile in spite of the situation, but it didn't work. Finding that he couldn't even fake amusement, he sank down onto the end of the bed and watched her toss her hairbrush and toiletries into the front pocket.

"I still don't understand," he said quietly, needing answers. "How is this a power struggle?"

Though she listened to his question, she didn't answer at first. Instead she mulled over her response, zipping up her pack and then putting it on the floor for Judith to look at. Finally she looked back at him, and when she spoke she seemed nervous, as though she was about to tell him something he didn't want to hear.

"We're trying to change each other."

"No, we're trying to compromise…aren't we?"

"Not really." There was another long pause right now, Carrie still looking at her pack on the floor. "You've accepted me for who I am," she said heavily, raising her head to look at him. "You're letting grow into this world at a pace that works for me."

He nodded slowly. "I'm glad you feel that way," he said, unsure of what else he could say.

"All you're asking is that I do the same thing for you…that I accept you for who you are. But I'm not. I keep trying to change you, to change your mind and convince you to be something else. You're doing the same to me…That's the power struggle here," she explained, her voice wavering.

Quickly looking away, he breathed in slowly to relieve the tightening in his chest. This had been what he'd feared, that he and Carrie were just too different and that she wouldn't be able to accept him for the person he needed to be. As her words began to sink in he considered one her of latter remarks, that while she was trying to change him, he was doing the same thing to her.

"Rick," she said hastily, coming around the end of the bed to where he was sitting. "That doesn't mean we can't make this work."

"Actually, it does." His words were heavy with the magnitude of what they were facing, and he braced himself before looking at her. "I am exactly who I need to be. I can't change that…not even for you," he said apologetically. "I'm sorry."

She shook her head, and to his surprise she reached out and placed her hand on the side of his jaw, holding his attention to her. "I'm not asking you to change," she emphasised, needing him to understand. "I'm the one who needs to change."

"No," he shook his head. "I don't want you to change either."

"Compromise then," she corrected herself. "I'm not used to that in a relationship. I'm used to constantly butting heads and creating resentment, to punishing one another…I don't want to make that mistake with you."

"This is not your fault," he said urgently, standing up to face her properly. "Our problems are not on you. I'm the one who's been screwing up, I-"

"Rick, stop," she requested before taking a breath. "We're both wrong. Our problems are on both of us."

"Then why are you doing this?" he asked again, gesturing to her pack. Needing the physical contact, he copied her gesture by placing his hand on the side of her neck. "You don't need to leave, we can work this out right now. We can work everything out."

To his disappointment, Carrie just shook her head, standing firm in her decision. "We need some space. We need to cool down for a while, and I need to work on my issues."

"No," he sighed, feeling her slipping further and further away. He kissed her now, knowing she could feel his desperation. "I love you."

She nodded, gently returning his kiss before continuing. "I love you too…but we need some space."

Rick chose not to say anything, a small part of him agreeing with her. He drew the moment out for as long as he could, letting his hand linger on the side of her neck, the two of them standing only inches apart. He yearned for the physical contact, to be holding her in his arms, but he knew that he couldn't. She was asking him to let her go, even just for a little while, and so it was with disappointment that he removed his hand and stepped back a little.

"What is it you need to work on?" he asked softly, referring to her earlier remark.

"The way I…the way I feel about some things," she slowly answered, struggling to verbalise it at first. "The way I handle things."

"Like what?"

"Like what's happening with Carl, with Pete. I don't have to understand your decisions. I don't even have to approve of the things you do," she remarked candidly. "But you at least deserve some support. You deserve that from me, and I'm struggling to give it to you. That's on me," she said emphatically. "I want to work on that. I am working on it…"

He nodded, understanding what she was getting at. He remembered Lori saying something like that to him once, probably at Herschel's farm. She didn't necessarily agree with the decisions he was making, but she promised him her support, her faith. That was what Carrie was trying to do now, that was what she'd been struggling with for so long. With hindsight, he could see how they had been hurtling towards this very moment, how they had both come to their own realisations about what the problem really was. He'd asked her many times for support, the requests coming as sharp comments in the middle of arguments, and her struggle to give him that had unconsciously caused their tension. They weren't giving one another the support their both needed, leaving them both alienated and lonely.

"Please, trust me that this is going to be alright." She reached for him again, her hand raised to stroke his jaw.

"I do trust you," he said automatically, though every instinct told him to not let her go, to make her stay.

"We are not over," she tried to reassure him. Putting gentle pressure on his jaw she made him look at her properly, and she held his gaze as she spoke. "I want to spend my life with you. That's becoming clearer to me every day, even with all of this going on. I want to spend my life with you."

What she said did not escape him, and nor did her sincerity, but his reaction was remarkably understated. He broke eye contact and looked away with a short sigh. It was startling to hear this, to know that she was looking to the future, that she wanted to spend her life with him. After everything they were putting each other through she was still sticking around, she was willing to make it work.

"I want that too." It was easy to say these words to her, for he didn't even need to think about them. They were in this together, for the long term. There was no point in denying it. "I love you."

Her voice a soft murmur, she returned his words of affection before bringing a small measure of comfort by sharing a kiss. It was one unlike they'd shared before, one filled with a combination of both certainty and uncertainty, of trust and fear. Rick's body was telling him to advance this moment, to run his hands over her hips to suggest that sex was the natural progression. Despite his desire to keep her around just a little longer, he let their kiss come to a conclusion before he would have liked, and he resisted the urge to reach for her as she took a small step back.

"You'll let me go?" she asked gently.

It wasn't a matter of seeking his permission, he knew that, but rather seeking his blessing, his understanding. He didn't want her to go, he wanted to put his foot down and force her to stay, but he knew her well enough to understand what that would lead to. That wasn't the type of man he wanted to be for her. She'd asked him to trust her, to give her the space she needed to work on her own issues, and he had to give her that.

"If this is what you need," he said quietly, the words threatening to catch in his throat.

"Thank you." There was an awkward pause, and then, "Jessie's expecting me. I should-"

"Yeah, sure."

With a short nod he stepped away and let her return to her pack, and though he knew she wanted to finish up packing her things he lingered in bedroom a little longer. As Judith dashed past him, full of energy she was trying to expel, Rick crossed his arms and sat on the edge of Carrie's windowsill. He watched solemnly as she packed the last few things she wanted to take with her, a tube of hand cream and a book being carefully stowed. Finishing up she straightened the comforter on her bed and headed into the bathroom, the sound of running water and sloshing indicating that she was cleaning the sink. It was startling how quickly her belongings had disappeared, how easily her presence here was taken away. She had always kept her bedroom clean and tidy, but it had always been unmistakably hers, her belongings marking it so. But in the space of fifteen minutes everything about her had been cleared away, leaving it as blank as it had been the day she arrived.

Grumbling, Judith wandered over to him and tugged on the leg of his jeans. She whined until she had his attention, and she promptly gave him all the cues that she was hungry, impatient for her afternoon snack. The task of taking her downstairs and preparing her some crackers seemed incomprehensible, too normal. How was he supposed to do that, he wondered. How was he supposed to just get on with things as though everything was normal? Carl wasn't speaking to him, and now he and Carrie had both moved out. He was surrounded by family and people, but he felt incredibly alone.

A small voice in his head told him that he had done this to himself, he had caused things to escalate this far. He was resolute in the determination that Pete could not have leverage over him, that he was the one who had to be in control of the situation. But he started to think of the young man he had killed yesterday, the one Carrie said wasn't much older than Carl. Perhaps she was right, perhaps he should have given him the benefit of the doubt, for the blindfold around his neck should have indicated that he wasn't a consenting party to the Wolves. But to do that would have been putting his family at risk, his precious children. Nevertheless he knew that Carrie felt compelled to help him, and he understood what that instinct felt like, having felt the same compassion for her. He had chosen to save her, he cared for her injuries and provided for her on the supply run…but it had been a different time and place. He stood by his justification that they were different, that she was less of a danger to his people than that boy had been.

Though he regretted that it had been necessary, Rick knew that he had made the right choice in killing that young man. It had been the right choice for his people, and he wasn't going to lose any sleep over the life he had taken…but should he be? Carrie had a way of making him question himself, of making him reconsider a notion he felt strongly about. He thought about the other things he had done to protect his people, the people he had killed on the supply run, the other Wolf he had ordered to be shot over a month ago. That was the side of him that Carrie was struggling with, a side that conflicted with her own beliefs.

"Rick?" Carrie said softly, looking at him with her lips pressed into a thin line. "What is it?"

Pulling Judith up onto his lap to quieten her, he avoided her question. "Nothing."

She was unconvinced, and she swung her pack onto her left shoulder as she continued. "You seem scared of something."

Unable to deny it, he looked at Judith when he gave his answer, reminding himself of the enormity of what he faced. His children were the reason he made the choices he did, he was protecting his family. "Do you ever feel like you're not yourself anymore?"

"Yes…every day," she admitted, taking a moment to mull over his question a little more. "You?"

He shook his head. "No. I think I've always been this person," he confessed, looking up at her. "That's what scares me."

There was a heavy pause as she took in what he said, comprehending the enormity of it. For a few moments Rick feared that his honesty would be another mark against him, that despite everything they had just talked about this was something that might cause her to falter, to doubt him. He wouldn't blame her for feeling that way, for being uncertain of someone who was scared of themselves. But to his relief she gave no indication that she felt this way. Instead she nodded to herself, slowly approaching him.

She looked at him in empathy, reaching out and taking his hand as best she could with the cast on her hand. "We're both coming face to face with who we really are. That's scary as hell."

Without anything further she leant down and pressed her lips to his forehead, the kiss tender and loving, and over too soon. She lingered only long enough to brush her hand over Judith's hair and then give her a little wave, and then she left without looking back, the sound of her footsteps fading as she descended the stairs. Unconcerned, Judith gave an obligatory wave and then went back to playing with the button's on Rick's shirt, and he wished he could share her lack of concern. He wanted to look out the window and watch Carrie go, to see her walk up the street towards Jessie's house where she would stay for the foreseeable future, but he chose not to torture himself anymore.

"A'snagh?" Judith asked, pestering him for her afternoon snack.

Just like before, the simple task of taking his daughter downstairs and tending to her needs felt insurmountable, the idea that he had to carry on with his life difficult to comprehend. But nevertheless he found himself rising, swinging her onto his hip as he reluctantly left Carrie's room. He looked around it one last time, still struggling with the idea that her presence could be so quickly erased, and then he forced himself to leave. Going against their general practice of trying to let light into the upstairs hallway, he closed her bedroom door behind himself, not wanting to have to look inside to see it empty every time he passed.

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Next chapter - I'm looking forward to you guys reading the next chapter, it's Carl's POV! I hadn't planned to write it, I thought I'd be better sticking to just Rick and Carrie, but the ideas and thoughts for Carl just started coming to me, so I began writing and then a chapter came out!


	45. Chapter 45

A/N I'd like to welcome Fester01 who is kindly jumping in as my beta-reader for this story. I'm woefully behind in my usual 20 chapter lead on what I post, but I'm confident that with a beta on board to serve as my second eyes I will pick up mistakes and plot holes earlier on, which will mean I don't have to spend heaps of time rewriting so many chapters. Please do remember to thank and welcome Fester01 in your reviews! Thanks Fester01.

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No matter how many times he had done this, Carl still felt nervous sneaking around Alexandria. It was a simple enough process, for if you walked with enough confidence no one questioned where you were going or why, but these days the consequences of being caught doing something he shouldn't were greater. But today he didn't care as much as he used to, the guilt didn't feel as heavy. Still wearing the nice shirt and pants he wore to church, Carl found his ideal position and then waited for the right moment. His hand rested on the holstered gun he had just stolen from his dad's locker in the garage, not used to the way the different holster dangled from his belt. He would have taken his own gun out of the safe at the second house, but Tara and Eugene were watching TV in the living room, necessitating the theft.

 _If Ron can steal guns from my dad, then so can I._

Resisting the urge to make his move too quickly, he rocked back and forth on his feet for a few moments before settling himself down. Two minutes passed, and as he heard the sound of chatter coming from the west post thirty yards away, he finally made his move. Ready with everything he needed, he raced towards the wall and used the cover of the large tree behind Bob and Natalie's house to shield himself from sight. He swiftly reached the top and carefully slipped over, using the heavy duty gloves to protect his hands from the broken glass and barbed wire they had up there. Moving slowly, he listened to the chatter coming from the west post, knowing he was lucky they hadn't heard him…every unauthorised departure he made came with the risk of getting caught, a risk that grew every time. People were more vigilant since that Wolf had found them about a month ago, but even more vigilant after what had happened at the safe house the other day. But Carl had done his reconnaissance today, and he knew that Michael's heart was in the right place, but his focus was not.

Confident that he hadn't been seen or heard, for the chatter from the watch post never faltered, Carl looked down to make sure his way was clear, and then properly climbed over and let himself dangle. Taking a moment to get his bearings, he breathed deeply and then let go, feeling the gloves scraping the broken glass before he became weightless. Despite the long drop he landed well, though today he felt a slight twinge coming from his upper left thigh. The gunshot wound he had sustained on the Georgia supply run had fully healed, but as though the scars weren't enough his body still sought to remind him about it. He stood up and then straightened his leg, stretching it as he pulled off the gloves and tossed them by the walls for safe keeping.

Pleased with himself for making another flawless escape, Carl brushed the dirt off his jeans and then set off. As he enjoyed the sweet taste of freedom he cast a cursory eye towards Alexandria's crops outside the walls, and then swiftly disappeared into the woods. Part of him wanted to linger, to walk through the wheat and trail his fingers through it, but with that area under direct surveillance from the western watch posts he couldn't take the risk. He needed to play this safe if he wanted the opportunity to avoid punishment for sneaking out again. If he played his cards right he could just pretend he was sulking somewhere inside Alexandria, perhaps at the cemetery or in the church - admitting to that was preferable to admitting he had snuck out. As long as he didn't get caught, things would be fine…as mad as he was at his family, he didn't want to upset Glenn and Maggie.

He'd been on his best behaviour since moving in with them, but the laborious task he'd been assigned to after church really rubbed him up the wrong way. Realistically he knew he should have just said no, that with the baby sometimes making her a little forgetful he couldn't blame her…but Maggie had sent him over to Paula's house to clean the windows. He was an expert in window cleaning by now, the smell of soapy water and Windex an annoying reminder of all the windows he had cleaned, but he drew the line at cleaning Paula's house. Paula was Nicholas' wife, the coward who had gotten Noah killed, who had left Glenn and Carrie behind at the warehouse. Nicholas had barely shown his face in the community since that day, and that was how everyone preferred it, Carl included.

Instead of refusing Maggie's instructions, and in spite of knowing she'd understand and even apologise, Carl had rebelled instead. The place that was his home also felt like a prison, which was odd given the that the prison he used to occupy had felt like a home…he still thought about that place a lot, wishing they were back there, that things were simpler. Even for all the problems and limitations that came with living in a prison, Carl still missed it. He missed the small cell that was entirely his, so much so that even his dad didn't go in uninvited. Back at the prison he had his own space, something that belonged only to him…he didn't have that in Alexandria, all he had was the outside. Like always, escaping from the walls brought a heady sense of relief, the feeling that all of his problems had been taken off his shoulders and left behind. There was no one else out here, no one who could bother him about what was going on with his dad.

Going to the house next door wasn't his first choice, but he'd been forced to recognise that it was his only choice. The first night following the fight he had been allowed to sleep on Tobin's couch, whose hospitality of beef jerky stroganoff followed by cocoa with marshmallows made him want to stay for different reasons. He had always liked Tobin, he'd been learning a lot from him when they worked in his wood shop, but when he awoke the following morning Carl knew he wouldn't be allowed to stay for another night. It was then that he had to make his decision, contemplating his immediate future over breakfast. He could go to any of the houses in Alexandria, there were spare bedrooms in many of them, but he knew that all of them would refuse him refuge. It wasn't that they didn't care, but more that they were unwilling to interfere in another family's problems. No one would want to be the person who enabled Rick's son to run away. Though he would have preferred to sleep outside in the dirt or under the lakeside gazebo, he knew that none of his family would allow that. So Carl had to make his choice. Swallow his pride and go home, or compromise by asking Glenn and Maggie.

Being family they had not turned him away, though Maggie made it clear he wasn't to unpack until he had his dad's blessing. The first night there had been somewhat awkward because everyone there knew that he was mad at them also, that they too had participated and enabled the deception. It was obvious to all that he was there only because it was preferable to the other option of going home, though to their credit none of them tried talking him around or berating him. It wasn't until the first night when Glenn was helping him set up the living room couch that the subject was tentatively broached, Glenn trying to gauge his feelings on the matter. To both of their relief Carl found himself keeping control of his anger, because for some reason it felt perfectly acceptable for him to yell and swear at his dad, but not at Glenn, whose intentions were only ever good.

The first morning he awoke at Glenn and Maggie's house it had been abruptly, the sight of a shadow looming before him making him jerk upright and back away. It was an overreaction, though a justified one at that, and it was only Michonne who had been moments away from waking him. Apologising quietly, she spoke in hushed tones as she asked him to get up and dress, requesting his help with something. For a brief moment it felt like everything was okay, that this was just one of those mornings that Daryl woke him early to go hunting, or Michonne offered to take him outside for a walk, but that feeling quickly passed. All at once reality set in, but though his immediate impulse was to tell her to get lost, he didn't.

Doing as he was told he dressed himself and met her out on the front porch as he rubbed his tired eyes, the sun having only recently risen. Despite his early wake up call and his lingering resentment of his best friend, Carl silently followed her across the road and through the gardens where they selected a few items of fresh produce before heading to Bob and Natalie's garage. He didn't need to ask why they were going there, having overheard what was being kept here for the next few days. They raised the garage door cautiously, not wanting to spook Buttons who might have been sleeping. She appeared wide awake, though the unhappy way she moved her feet indicated that she wasn't pleased to see them.

"I know you didn't get to see her yesterday," Michonne said quietly, the two of them standing in the threshold as they waited for Buttons to settle.

Carl didn't say anything in this regard, though on the inside he was elated. He had watched from the upstairs window as his dad and Michonne tended to Buttons yesterday morning, seething with jealousy that his pride wouldn't let him go down there too.

"I suppose Dad sent you to talk to me."

"Actually," Michonne began slowly. "He asked me to give you some space."

"Nice work," he replied petulantly.

"I'm not here to talk about your dad, or Carrie. But we can talk about them if you want to."

"No."

"Alright…but I was hoping we could talk about you and me. I know you're upset with me."

 _No shit Sherlock_. Though he wanted to, he didn't say the thought that popped into his head. He and Michonne had never fought before, they'd never exchanged so much as a harsh word. In spite of how mad he was at her, another part of him needed his friend, needed to feel like someone was on his side.

"Fine."

With his reluctant agreement Michonne seemed to breath a sigh of relief, indicating that this had been weighing on her chest. Nevertheless they took pause, turning their attention to Buttons whose ambivalence towards them had faded when she noticed the treats they had brought to her. Recalling all he had leant from Flame at the prison, he cautiously helped put the bridle on and then checked it was comfortable on her. With that prepared Michonne allowed him to take the lead, the two of them standing either side of Buttons as they led her out of the garage and around the community. She needed to become accustomed to her new surroundings, to get used to the different textures beneath her hooves and the various sounds and people, not to mention used to being handled.

"I'm sorry for not telling you the truth about your dad and Carrie," Michonne began, the sound of Buttons' hooves on the road providing a comfortable background noise. "I know that it's hurt you a lot."

Carl didn't say anything to this, unsure of where she was going.

"I am sorry," she repeated sincerely. "But I hope you can understand why I didn't tell you."

This remark roused his attention, and he glanced up at her as they walked. "You have an excuse?"

"Not an excuse. A reason."

He scoffed at this. "Go on then, let's hear it."

"I didn't tell you, because I had no right to tell you. It wasn't my secret."

"That's bullshit," he cursed, his anger beginning to resurface. "You should have told me, h-"

"Hear me out," she requested. "Please."

Though he fell silent and allowed her to speak, Carl looked away as they walked, his jaw clenched in frustration.

"This relationship was a private matter between two people, and they were the only ones with the right to share their news."

"But they-"

"They should have told you," she cut him off again, looking at him emphatically. "You're right."

Her agreement stunned him, and he looked at her in surprise. "You agree with me?"

"Yes."

"Then why didn't you tell me?"

"Because I still had no right to tell you," she said again. "This was their relationship, their private business. When things became serious between them they should have told you…but it was still none of my business."

Carl huffed impatiently, dissatisfied with her reasoning. "No. You should have told me."

There was a long silence, the two of them slowing to a stop when Button's began veering towards some grass by the solar panels. Being patient, he allowed her to graze a little, watching her moving her nose through the grass clippings that he had so recently cut. Barely two days ago that's what he had been doing with his dad, the two of them working side by side to get the grass around their community cut to an acceptable level.

"How many people have you told about Andre?" Michonne enquired.

Carl frowned at this enquiry, surprised she had to ask. "None."

"Why not?"

"Because…" he began, trailing off when he saw where she was going with this. _Dammit_. "Because you don't like to talk about him," he said, though he knew that wasn't the reason.

"That's not true," she rebuked, patting Buttons on the shoulder as they resumed their walk. "I talk to you about him often…but I do like to keep him private. You're the only one who knows about him, and yet you haven't told anyone else. Why not?"

Carl delayed answering, not liking that it would justify her actions. "Because it's not my secret to tell," he admitted.

"Right. Andre is not your secret to share, so you keep him private for me. Just like your dad and Carrie wasn't my secret to share, and so I kept it private."

Falling silent, Carl looked at the ground as they walked. He couldn't refute Michonne's reason for not telling him, but that didn't make anything easier. "You still should have told me," he insisted glumly. "Everyone lied to me… _everyone._ Why didn't dad just tell me?"

There was a long pause, Michonne thinking about her answer. "I have my own conclusions, it's something you need to talk to him about."

There was a brief pause, Carl still trying to wrap his head around the finer details. "He said he's in love with her," he said incredulously, unable to fathom it. "How can he be in love with her?"

Michonne managed a small smile at this, but she quickly hid it. "It's very easy to fall in love…it's wonderful. But the how and the why is something you talk to your dad about," she repeated. "He's the only one who can tell you."

Again he was dissatisfied with her answer, their entire conversation feeling like it was doing nothing but going around in circles, though on one hand he knew it was not. She had explained her reasons for not telling him the truth, reasons that he not only understood, but reluctantly agreed with. She had no right to tell him about his dad's relationship with Carrie, it was them who should have told him. Despite this understanding, it didn't change how hurt and upset he was with Michonne, with his whole family in fact. He understood why, but it didn't change how he felt.

"What do you think about your dad and Carrie?" Michonne asked a short while later, the two of them tethering Buttons to a tree where she would graze. "You can tell me…I won't tell anyone what you said."

Standing with his hand on Buttons' belly he waited patiently for the foal to move, having always been fascinated by the sensation with his mom was pregnant with Judith, and now Maggie too. "I don't know," he shrugged. Wanting to give an actual answer he tried to think, to consider how he felt about the fact that his dad was seeing someone, that he had a girlfriend. "I…it's weird."

"It must be," she acknowledged, understanding.

"I just…" he started, still trying to articulate what he was thinking.

The entire concept felt so weird…he'd only ever thought about his dad as being his dad, not someone who fell in love. It had occurred to him of course that maybe one day he would move on from his mom, that he might even remarry, but he'd never given serious conservation to what it might actually mean. Giving up on trying to explain he just fell silent, wishing Michonne wouldn't ask.

"Carl?" Michonne began, her serious tone making him look up at her. "Are you and I okay? I'm sorry for the part I played in lying to you."

"Yeah, I know."

"So are we okay?"

He took a moment to dwell on this, because unfortunately the answer didn't come to him immediately. Being honest with himself, they were not okay. Though he understood her reasons for not telling him, even reluctantly agreeing with them, he was still hurt. That was a big deal, it wasn't just a little lie, and it wasn't just her. So in his opinion they weren't okay…but he wanted them to be. He wanted to feel like he had someone on his side…it had been less than one day and already he felt lonely and isolated. He wanted Michonne…he needed their friendship.

"Yeah, we're okay," he said quietly.

Her relief was evident, and when she made to tentatively embrace him he allowed her to, despite his lingering resentment. In that moment everything was okay, the hurt he felt was bearable, and it reminded him of why he needed to forgive Michonne even though he was still angry at her. He wanted to have someone on his side…he had enough problems with crumbling friendships right now. As they parted he felt her hand brushing against the side of his leg more than necessary, and he frowned in confusion until he looked down. From the top of his pocket he could see the wrapper of a candy bar, a Snickers if he wasn't mistaken.

"You ever tell your dad I gave you this, I'll tell Eugene who really scratched his Nickleback CD."

Michonne knew that he was banned from luxuries like candy and soda for the duration of his punishment, but he wasn't going to reject her gift. He nodded slowly, and at her encouragement he reluctantly went home to the second house. In the days that followed he settled in to life at Glenn and Maggie's house, and though he understood that everyone had kept his dad's secret for the same reason Michonne had, that didn't make things feel better. He was still mad at them, but at least the understanding made it easier for him to swallow his pride and get along with them, not that he had another choice. Family or not, he had to behave himself at the second house, knowing that Maggie wouldn't put up with any bratty behaviour from him, justified or not. In the last week he'd learnt that Maggie was just as tough as his dad when it came to maintaining his punishment…perhaps even tougher given her craving for cream cheese would never be satisfied. Last night she'd brought herself to tears as she flipped through an old magazine and came across a recipe for peach cheesecake…he loved Maggie, but he didn't want to cross her either.

Regardless of his efforts to be a good house mate and to follow the ground rules his dad had set, it didn't take long for the novelty of the new living situation to wear off. It was rather cramped for eight people living in a four bedroom house, and it seemed like there was never a moment of peace and quiet, even when Sasha had to sleep during the day. Even worse was Eugene's habits, for although the group had adjusted to his unique but annoying quirks, he still ate anything he could chew and refused to believe he might be lactose intolerant. So snacks were scarce and his farts smelled like feet, but that was only part of the reason Carl had chosen to take the couch rather than sleep in the other bed that occupied Eugene's bedroom. That bed wasn't for him to sleep in, it was Noah's. His stuff was still in the room, his clothes in the closet, his iPod still on the nightstand. A few days after his death Maggie and Glenn had tried to pack up his things, to share them amongst the people in his group who would value them, but Tara had freaked out. Still recovering from her head injury she'd become inconsolable when Maggie had tried to start, and so since then they hadn't touched anything.

Carl knew that most of Noah's clothes would be directly passed on to him rather than given to the Pantry, and he'd gratefully take them…but until then the other half of Eugene's bedroom was still Noah's, and Carl would rather sleep on the sofa than in a dead man's bed. Glenn had taken pity on him however, and now every morning when he got up early for the morning watch he would rouse Carl and send him into the main bedroom where he could get some comfortable sleep beside Maggie. Then the other night when Glenn and some others had gone on an extended supply run to find grain and supplies for Buttons, Carl had been able to share the bed with Maggie. It wasn't weird or anything, they'd shared beds many times before and they were practically siblings, and her bed was so warm and comfortable…it almost made up for the fact that she was presently irritable, hungry and bossy, particularly when it came to his punishment chores.

As he walked he heard the sound of movement to his left, and as his hand drifted to his gun he looked around, moving towards the safety of a wide tree trunk. He paused and scoped out the area, listening for any signs of movement, both dead and alive. A few moments passed before he was satisfied, having carefully assessed the environment around him. But just as he moved around the tree trunk and resumed his journey an imposing figure materialised before his eyes, and Carl knew he was in the shit house now.

"Where'd you get that piece?" Daryl demanded loudly.

"Huh?" Carl blinked dimly. "What?"

"That piece you got there," he said sharply, gesturing to his holster. "Ain't yours, so where'd yah get it?"

Carl hesitated, momentarily confused by the drastic change of events. Daryl had caught him red handed, and the sound of more movement from his left announced the arrival of Sasha. "F-from the locker in the garage."

"Boy, you ain't allowed in that locker," Daryl grunted, advancing towards him and readjusting his crossbow over his shoulder.

His gruff tone rubbed Carl up the wrong way, reminding him that he was mad at Daryl right now. "I know," he said petulantly, taking a step back.

Daryl snorted under his breath, looking at him in exasperation. "Stealin' from your old man, ain't that nice."

Much like Michonne and his dad, Daryl had the uncanny ability to make him feel completely ashamed of his actions by saying very little. "Like you never stole from yours," he muttered, glancing at Sasha who was hovering a few yards away.

"Yeah, I did, and yah know what that got me? A broken eye socket. Why don' yah think about that, huh?" he growled, abruptly coming forward.

Seeing what Daryl was going to do, that he was reaching out to seize him by the scruff of his shirt, Carl hastily dodged him and dashed a few yards away. Not expecting his defiance, Daryl was too slow to catch him, and his angry swears were immensely satisfying to hear.

"Yah coming home, now," he said firmly.

"No."

Daryl's eyes narrowed, Sasha looking between the two of them in shocked surprise. "Wha' you say to me?"

"I said no," Carl repeated, backing further away. "You're not in charge of me."

"Like hell I ain't, boy!"

"You're not."

Daryl had clearly had enough, his eyes wild with anger as he advanced towards him. "You little shit. Just wait 'till I get my hands on you!" he threatened.

Despite his anger, Carl was not intimidated, confident that this was an empty threat. Daryl would never hit him, he'd never hurt him no matter how angry he was. Not only would his dad never forgive him for it, Daryl wouldn't forgive himself either, and Carl used this to his advantage. He stood up straight as Daryl came over and seized him around the upper arm, but not tightly enough to inflict any discomfort. Just like Carl expected, Daryl wasn't willing to hurt him.

"Let's go," he growled, tugging on his arm.

His defiance escalating, Carl dug his heels in and refused. He hadn't gone to all this trouble to get out just to go back in the moment he was caught. "No."

"No?"

Jutting his chin out proudly, Carl looked him in the eye. "No."

Daryl's upper lip curled into an angry snarl, this being the angriest Carl had ever seen him, but it was immediately clear who was winning this particular stand off. Not knowing what to do, and unwilling to cross the line he set for himself, Daryl stood there in disbelief. Grunting impatiently, he bent at the knees as though he was going to sweep Carl off his feet and over his shoulder, but Carl was faster. Taking advantage of the split second opportunity he wrenched his arm out of Daryl's grasp and made a run for it, hearing Sasha shout _"No, Daryl!"_ when he lunged to tackle him. An expert at it by now, largely thanks to Daryl himself, Carl dashed over to the closest suitable tree and began to climb, swiftly pulling himself up onto the first branch and reaching for the one above. He slipped a little as he climbed, the tree trunk still wet from the storm that had passed, but he easily made his ascent.

Almost as if giving up, Daryl's pursuit of him seemed halfhearted, and he simply made his way over to the tree in question and looked up at him. He seemed to take a moment to collect himself, though he was still glaring daggers up at him. "I'm askin' nicely now," he said, the words sounding uncomfortable in his mouth. "Please."

"No," Carl replied, not even giving the request consideration. Without another word he reached up and pulled himself another branch higher. Though they both knew Daryl too could easily scale this tree Carl knew that he wouldn't...he wouldn't risk wrestling him into submission when they were fifteen feet above the ground.

"Carl," Sasha began gently, coming forward and putting her hand on Daryl's arm to quieten his next words. "You're going to be in enough trouble as it is. Come home with us now, and this can stay between the three of us."

It was an offer of extreme generosity, one that Sasha knew she had no right to make, but one he trusted she would uphold. It was an ideal compromise, giving Carl the opportunity to avoid punishment and act as if this had never happened...but he wasn't ready to give up yet. He no longer cared if he got into trouble, he didn't give a shit if his punishment was extended even longer...he didn't give a shit about anything today.

"No," he said bluntly. "I'm not ready."

"Boy you ain't gettin' no choice!" Daryl shouted, waving an angry fist at him. "You coming home now!"

"No."

"You're making this worse for yourself," Sasha intervened again. "Your Dad doesn't have to know about any of this. Quit while you're ahead."

"No."

Livid with righteous anger, Daryl's features twisted into a snarl as he set down his crossbow and started towards the tree, reaching for the lower branches. Intervening, Sasha hastily followed him over, reasoning with him, talking him down. Though he was grateful to her, Carl wished she wouldn't...he wanted an argument, he wanted to fight with someone...if that person had to be Daryl, then so be it. There was a long pause as Daryl listened to what Sasha was saying, poised with one foot on the tree trunk and one on the branch. He held that position for a few moments before muttering something back, and then he seemed to give in. Muttering something under his breath he turned around and picked up his crossbow again. To Carl's disbelief he started walking away, but not before he had the last word.

"Boy, your father's gonna tan your hide when he gets his hands on you," he threatened loudly. "Then I'll be next in line."

Carl said nothing, still in disbelief as he watched Daryl walking away, furious with his defiance. Sasha remained behind, standing at the bottom of the tree as she watched Daryl depart. A flicker of worry began to grow inside of him, wondering if she was going to wait there for his dad to come out from Alexandria, if she was guarding him. _Dammit_...that was not what was meant to happen. He just wanted some space, to be alone...this was not the right tree for that, it wasn't the place he was going.

"You going to wait there, are you?"

"I just want to give you another chance," she said kindly, looking up at him now. "Come down now, and no one else has to hear about this."

Resolute, Carl shook his head.

She gave a great sigh of disappointment. "If your dad has to come out here, it's going to be worse than if you came back in yourself. Come on Carl," she encouraged. "Do yourself a favour."

He folded his arms in determination, looking away and shaking his head again. Hearing movement his heart leapt, wondering if Daryl had found his dad so quickly, but he was relieved to see that it was only a couple of Walkers. They were a few yards away, the three shuffling bodies having been attracted by the argument between he and Daryl. Sasha too had noticed them, and when she set aside her rifle and drew her knife instead Carl made his move. Three Walkers were nothing to take care of, and with them already spread out at a distance from one another Sasha was in no imminent danger to take them on alone. The moment she turned her back Carl swiftly lowered himself from the branches and jumped, hitting the ground with a loud grunt before getting back to his feet and making a run for it.

"Carl!" Sasha called out, her voice a mixture of anger and exasperation. "Dammit Carl, wait!"

Slowing only to make sure that she was indeed alright with the three Walkers, he made a run for it as fast as he could, taking off in a westerly direction until he was out of sight. Once certain that she would pursue him in the wrong direction he changed course, beginning the journey to his original destination. He continued to run for a short while, wanting to put as much distance between he and Sasha as possible, and not once did it cross his mind that bringing people outside the walls to look for him might endanger them. Instead he selfishly focused on his own wants, thinking only of himself.

Ten minutes passed without incident, and when the old shack came into sight he breathed a happy sigh. Drawing his gun he cleared the few small rooms and then made himself at home, taking a long drink of the water Enid had left there for them. She was the one who brought their food and supplies out here, an easy task given that no one gave her any trouble when she left the walls. He had no idea how she managed to exert her will over these people, but for some reason the adults let her come and go as she pleased…Enid answered to no one.

Turning to their stash of books, Carl perused the blurb on a few Goosebumps titles, opening the front cover and looking to see if Enid had rated them. Seeing two hand drawn stars and a frowning face with _zzz_ above it, he interpreted that it was of average quality and kind of a bore, but he selected it anyway. Heath, Scott and Annie had brought these books back from their last two week supply run, having cleared out a library a hundred miles south of them on their way home. The books were a little juvenile for he and Enid, but for now they would pass the time. He had once tried reading the James Patterson book on his dad's nightstand, but the plot had been boring and he quickly got confused with all the different characters. The Stephen King book he borrowed from Michonne was even more complicated, and hell creepy. He had learnt not to bother perusing her stack of books.

Taking his book, Say Cheese and Die, he stuffed it into the back of his jeans and slipped a Mars Bar into his pocket before going outside. In no time at all he had climbed their favoured tree and resumed his usual spot, and he stretched his legs out along the length of the branch then leant back against the trunk. Pausing, he took a moment to appreciate the peacefulness of this particular spot. Finally he had exactly what he wanted - uninterrupted solitude. This was where his dad had caught him the very first time he had snuck out of Alexandria, where they had taken on Walkers together before heading back to find Aidan and Glenn fighting. Things had been different back then, his dad had understood his need to be outside the walls. He'd been mad, but not that much really…not like he was last time.

Trying not to think about his dad right now, Carl set the timer on his watch and then began reading the book, seeking refuge in the storyline that turned out to be as predictable as the rest. Though he turned the pages and became engrossed in the storyline, he soon found that he couldn't stop thinking about what was going on at home, all the problems he was presently avoiding. He'd been living at Glenn and Maggie's for a week now, and though he hadn't had any kind of reprieve from his punishment it didn't matter to him…all that mattered was that he was out, that he was punishing his dad. He knew that giving his family the cold shoulder was borderline cruel, for he could see with his own eyes the hurt his dad was feeling right now, but he didn't care. He deserved this, he deserved to feel like shit after everything he had done.

With a long sigh Carl set the book down and opened his Mars Bar, indulging himself. He wasn't allowed any candy or soda at the moment, and the Snickers Michonne had secretly given him hadn't lasted an hour…God he missed Pepsi. He knew that having been caught he'd have another two weeks of his punishment, and even though he was only two days away from its end the consequences were worth it. The prospect of cleaning Nicholas' house in conjunction with the temptation of candy had sealed his decision. As he sank his teeth into the chocolate, caramel and nougat, Carl knew he had made the right decision. It was never a bad idea to choose chocolate, though he would have preferred if Enid had left him a Snickers instead of a Mars Bar. Still, beggars couldn't be choosers.

A memory struck him suddenly, and he remembered his dad saying this to him as they sat side by side on the hood of a car. They were on the supply run, and his dad had taken a sip of Pepsi even though he preferred Coke. _"You know what they say about beggars?"_ he had asked wryly.

Dwelling on this, Carl felt a pang of guilt building in the pit of his stomach, one he had been feeling more and more over the last few days. Everything was completely going to shit right now, but particularly so regarding his dad. He was being forced to come home for dinner every night, his dad making him sit at the table and participate in family life as though nothing was wrong. He did so obediently, and he helped with the dishes and then bathed Judith (a task he genuinely didn't mind), but it was awkward. He had no choice but to talk to his dad during dinner, to talk to Michonne, Carol and Daryl, and so he made an effort to be civil and pleasant, but things still weren't okay. He could see how much effort his dad was putting in, and Carl was almost ready to meet him halfway on that…but there was still the overwhelming guilt he feels every time he looks at him.

It was because of Carrie.

She had been acting strangely all week, and had hardly been around thanks to her sudden interest in taking the evening shift on watch. This came as a surprise to Carl, for he knew that she hated the evening shifts, that she was normally in bed by nine o'clock and then awake early the next morning. It hadn't taken long for him to figure out that she was avoiding him, that she was avoiding his dad too. At first he had thought that they were trying to be sensitive to him, to not flaunt their relationship even though he had probably screwed things up for them majorly, but he knew there was something else going on too.

Since Carl had found out about their relationship Carrie had joined them for dinner only once, and he got the feeling that was because Carol had made her. As soon as she had eaten she politely made her excuses and left, lingering only long enough to put a few items into the dishwasher before resuming her post on watch. That night he could see that things between she and his dad were not alright, for the tension was palpable. He was too ashamed to admit it to anyone but himself, but at the time he'd been secretly pleased to see Carrie and his dad having such a hard time, glad to see that they were avoiding each other. Now though he felt differently, having had greater insight into the fact that something was seriously wrong.

Thursday afternoon they had gone on a run together to check on the safe houses, and when they'd returned with the news that some Wolves had taken them by surprise, everyone had sprung into action to get back there and clear out their supplies. However Carrie and his dad had stayed back, and that was when the fighting began. They were audible from the street, audible from Glenn and Maggie's bedroom window where Carl had been listening, though he couldn't distinguish what they were saying. Despite the fact that he didn't quite know what it was about, it sounded epic. It was startling to hear them yelling at one another, for Carl didn't ever recall his dad yelling at his mom, at least not that he had ever heard. But the fight with Carrie had sounded particularly awful…at the end he'd heard the sound of something smashing, and a few moments later Carrie had burst out the front door in tears. Carl had braced himself for his dad to follow her out, for their argument to continue on the street in broad daylight, but thankfully it seemed to reach a conclusion.

Carrie had moved out the next afternoon…not that Carl could blame her. Her departure seemed relatively fuss free, and she was only staying with Jessie and Sam two houses away, but he couldn't help but wonder if she was alright. He wished he knew more about what was going on, unable to shake the awful feeling that came every time he thought about them fighting. It was a confusing state of mind for him, and he was unable to decide how he really felt at the moment. He hated the fact that they were together, he hated that his dad had lied to him and that they wanted to be a normal, regular couple…but that didn't mean he wanted them to hate each other either. The awful things he said last week in the heat of the moment were still with him, and he hated to think that they might be fighting about him. Was he the cause of their fighting, or was it something else? Maybe it was more than one thing…

Had they broken up?

Despite the selfishness he felt about it all, Carl didn't want them to break up. He wanted his dad to be happy, even if that meant he had to have a girlfriend, that he had to find happiness with someone other than his mom. He didn't want him miserable. But that seemed to be what was happening now. With a long groan Carl removed his hat and brushed his hair back, trying to think properly. Though one part of him would be perfectly happy if Carrie and his dad never spoke again, the greater majority of his heart didn't want them to break up…he wasn't that cruel. Trying to come up with a solution, he balanced his book on his knees and put his hat back on, but then there was an awkward moment in which he fumbled with the brim while the book slipped.

Making a strategic choice about which he could do without in the short term, Carl caught the book and let his hat fall to the ground, knowing that he couldn't afford to lunge for them both while he was sitting in the tree. He looked down at his fallen hat, glad to see that although it had roused the attention of a nearby Walker, it was fine. The Walker ambled towards the tree, but unable to see or smell anything still moving it continued on its new path, and soon enough it was gone. For a long moment he looked down at his hat, remembering the way he had thrown it into the dirt after his fight with his dad. He had done that not because he didn't want it anymore, but because he wanted to see his dad's reaction, he wanted to see him hurt. But to his frustration his dad hadn't reacted to it at all, he hadn't even reacted when he swore at him.

Resting his head back against the tree trunk, Carl wracked his brain for a solution to the problems he was faced with, this task particularly difficult given that he didn't really know what was going on between his dad and Carrie. As usual, the adults had given him only an edited version of what happened at the safe house, and not above snooping he sneaked into his own home yesterday afternoon. Without shame he turned on the desktop computer and inserted the SD cards that were lying about on the desk. Finding the right one from the safe house, he flicked through the pictures that showed two Wolves arriving at the cabin and then spending the night, surprised to see that they only slept on the porch. The final pictures were of his dad and Carrie's arrival that afternoon, and so he swapped the card to the next one, knowing what he would find there.

Finding the pictures that documented the sudden attack, he looked at Carrie as she sat alone on the truck's hood. Clicking through them rapidly, he watched as the pictures played out like a silent movie, showing how Carrie briefly spoke with a tall man while she was snuck up on from behind. She managed to save herself as the other Wolf swung at her with a machete, and that was when his dad appeared from inside the cabin, taking them both out with quick shots. Though he already knew that Carrie was unharmed from the incident, Carl had held his breath as he watched the pictures play out what had happened, glad that she was alright.

The guilt had come again when he saw the way his dad tended to her, the way he washed the blood from her hair and gave her his shirt. They hugged now, this being the most difficult for Carl to see. It had been so long since he had seen his dad hug or kiss someone like that…he couldn't even remember the last time his dad had kissed his mom. The idea that his dad was lonely had never occurred to him until now, his guilt exacerbated by this thought. The picture was blurry and they were far away, but it was obvious that they were kissing. He imagined them doing this for months, sneaking around behind his back, having sex in secret. Suddenly his guilt eased a little…his dad had lied to him, he was a hypocrite. That's what Carl was most mad about.

Continuing through the pictures, Carl sighed as all the pieces came together. Though he couldn't see all of what happened, he watched as Carrie and his dad turned to face something, and there was a brief stand off with something off camera before his dad raised his gun and fired at the third Wolf that had appeared. That's where things seemed to go wrong between the two of them, for Carrie's shoulders slumped before she ran forward and disappeared from camera. The next photograph was of his dad holding her by the arm, and then the two of them angrily facing one another. It wasn't until later that Carl had learned what had happened, that the third person his dad had killed was more likely to be the Wolves' hostage than a genuine threat. That was what had made the fight between he and Carrie even worse, her belief that he shouldn't have killed the third person.

Despite all that had happened, Carl couldn't help but take his dad's side in this situation. Even without knowing all of the facts, Carl agreed that killing that person was the right thing to do, hostage or not. They couldn't let him go free and allow him to steal from or track them down, and bringing him to Alexandria was risky. As he looked at the pictures in more detail Carl wished he and his dad were on speaking terms, that he could ask him about what had happened…he wanted to know if he regretted killing that person. He knew all too well what it felt like to kill someone he didn't have to. Was that how his dad felt now, or was he used to it the way Carl was beginning to feel? He'd killed that boy in the woods, an attacker on the Georgia supply run, and then the first Wolf about a month ago…he regretted none of their deaths, and yet sometimes he couldn't get their faces out of his mind.

After seeing the pictures he had decided to leave, for although there was no one else at home he didn't want to risk being caught. Not only would he get in trouble for snooping (though his dad always let him look at the pictures from the hunting cameras), but he didn't want to invite a good intentioned request for him to come home. As he put everything back the way he found it, he paused and looked around the garage, a room which until Thursday night had been clean and well organised. Now it was cramped and untidy thanks to the mass of supplies that had been retrieved from the safe house. Looking through it all and thinking back to when they had first sorted the supplies and distributed them among the safe houses, Carl looked towards the corner of the garage where a small table had been set up for he and his dad.

Over a month ago Glenn had brought back a huge set of Lego, and when his dad had finally cleaned the garage they had set up a table and begun construction on a Death Star. Having recently started watching Star Wars Carl was quite enthused for the task (even though Lego was for kids), though in reality he was more enthused for the time spent with his dad. They'd been out there most evenings, working together to construct it, and the time spent with one another was easy and peaceful, though of course that had been before all the drama between them. It was a slow going task given that he was being punished for most of the last two weeks, but they had made steady progress, and were almost a quarter of the way through the instruction manual.

Carl walked straight over to the table and looked at their work, casting his eyes over the pieces and the diagram they had been trying to figure out. Last time they'd been working on it they were stuck on this page, and were soon going to consult with Glenn about what to do. Without consciously deciding to do it, Carl reached out and gave the construction a gentle push. It fell to the floor and shattered loudly, the sound painfully breaking the silence. Lego pieces scattered throughout the garage, getting caught under shelves and in amongst their supplies. He cruelly hoped that his dad was the one to find it destroyed.

Feeling a warm breeze rustling the wood's canopy, Carl shook his head to himself and made himself comfortable again. He didn't want to think about what he had done. At the time it had felt like justice, revenge even…now he was wracked with guilt, his heart burning with shame when he imagined his dad finding it. Flicking through the pages of his book he found his place and tried to continue reading, but his heart was no longer in it. Despite having come outside to escape his problems, his head was still preoccupied with his dad and Carrie, still trying to come up with a solution to their problems. He didn't know how to fix this, he didn't know how to rectify the problems he had probably caused…the only solution he could see was to go home, to stop punishing his dad and ease some of the stress he must be feeling. But despite everything, Carl wasn't so sure he was ready to stop punishing him.

"Howdy, partner."

Carl smiled as he recognised the voice that interrupted him, and he lowered his book and looked down at the ground. Enid stood at the foot of the tree, his Sheriff's hat perched on her head as she looked up at him.

"Howdy," he replied, closing his book and sitting up to make room for her to join him. When she didn't move he looked down at her curiously. "You coming up?"

She hesitated, but then shrugged her shoulders and began to climb. "I didn't expect to see you out here," she commented as she hoisted herself up onto the final branch and sat beside him. She took his hat off her head and placed it on his. "Haven't you got only two days left of your punishment?"

"Well," he began, looking at his fingernails and picking some dirt out from underneath. "Yeah…but I got caught on my way out."

"If you got caught, then how are you still out here?"

"Luck."

Though she probably thought he was being stupid, and never shied away from telling him, today she just nodded her head. "Well I didn't expect you out here for a while, otherwise I would have brought Snickers instead of Mars Bars…I know you like them better."

"That's okay," he said, not surprised by her thoughtfulness. Though she was surly and downright crabby sometimes, she was a thoughtful friend too. "I'd eat any kind of candy at the moment, even the mint MnMs."

This made her laugh. "Did you go to church today?" she enquired, continuing when he nodded. "What was it about?"

Carl frowned…Enid wasn't really one for small talk, and yet she was making a lot of it so far. "Umm…the story of the prodigal son returning to his father."

She snorted in amusement, squinting as she looked around through the canopy of the trees. "Subtle. Do you think your dad asked Gabriel to preach about that?"

Shaking his head, he gave a short laugh. "Nah, that's probably just Gabriel rubbing my nose in it."

"Is he still making you go to dinner?"

"Yeah."

There was a short pause, but for some reason today it felt odd…maybe even awkward. Looking at Enid from the corner of his eyes he tried to figure out what was wrong. Hanging out with Enid was normally quite easy, the two friends able to enjoy one another's company without having to fill the space with meaningless chatter. Of course they did talk with one another, sometimes about their old lives, sometimes about what they thought the future might bring, but not always. He waited with bated breath to see if Enid would try to fill in the silence with more small talk, and she did.

"Do you like the book?" she enquired.

He nodded. "It's okay. I think you're a bit tough with your two star rating. A haunted camera? That's pretty original."

"It's not haunted, Spidey put a curse on it."

Sighing, he looked at her wryly. "Thanks for spoiling it."

"Whoops."

Still wondering why she was acting so strange, he kept waiting as the silence resumed, amused every time she kept filling it with small talk. Ten minutes passed in chatter, and though he knew he ought to go home before he pissed his dad off even more, he lingered.

"Annie still won't let me come with them on their next supply run," Enid said in annoyance, swinging her legs restlessly. "Deanna said no."

"Good," Carl muttered, knowing this would annoy her. "You're much too young."

"Don't be an ass. You went to Georgia for three weeks, and I'm two months older than you."

"Yeah, but you gotta be as cool as me," he teased, pleased with the reaction he was getting.

"You mean, getting down on your knees and kissing your dad's ass until he caved?"

He nodded. "Pretty much," he agreed, swinging his legs the same way she did. "Why do you wanna go so bad?"

She looked at him as though the answer was obvious, which it was. "Why wouldn't I?"

"So, just go. What's Deanna going to do about it?"

Enid shook her head dejectedly. "I can't. Annie and the others won't take me without her blessing."

Carl paused, looking at her in concern. "You're not thinking about running off, are you?" She had talked about that a week after he had killed that Wolf who had appeared outside the walls, had planned everything she would need so that she could leave Alexandria and never return. Somehow, he had managed to convince her not to, but he had always suspected that her agreement to stay wasn't concrete. He was constantly bracing himself for the news that she was gone, ready to tell his dad not to bother sending out a search party for someone who didn't want to be found. Just like everything else, he was in a constant state of readiness to accept her departure.

"No," she denied, though her response came too slowly for his comfort. "That would be stupid, you were right. I've got a roof over my head here, and food. I shouldn't be ungrateful."

Enid was one of the few people he could talk to at the moment, and so he spoke the next words easily and without hesitation. "I am," he confessed. "I'm ungrateful for this place all the time."

"How so?"

"I miss the prison."

"I thought it sucked there."

Looking at her from the corner of his eyes, Carl knew that despite her remark she did understand what he was getting at. "It did suck. No running water, no electricity. It was cold in winter, hot in summer, we attracted Walkers for miles…but it was home."

"It's not home here?"

He shook his head and then shrugged. "Not really. I mean it is…but I still prefer the prison."

Enid let out a heavy sigh, and finally there was silence not filled with chatter. The time passed comfortably, Carl and Enid sitting side by side with their own respective thoughts...or at least he thought they did. As he again pondered what might be going on with Carrie and his dad he felt Enid touching his hand, and so he turned and looked at her. However to his immense surprise the moment he looked around she turned away, a pink tinge appearing in her cheeks. He frowned at her in confusion, his lips parting to ask what it was she wanted, why she was trying to get his attention, but he fell silent. Suddenly all he could think about was the fact that she was touching his hand, her fingers resting on his knuckles feeling heavier than they should.

Carl's heart rate began to speed up, the palms of his hands beginning to sweat as his body caught up before his mind did. Enid was touching his hand...she was embarrassed, shy... _oh shit_. Frozen, Carl looked at her expectantly, waiting for her to do something, to confirm the startling conclusion his mind had come to. Was she...was she actually touching his hand? Finally she did something, her shoulders moving as she took a deep breath and then looked at him. She seemed confident with herself, certainly more confident than Carl felt, and then she was slowly leaning towards him. Her lips parted as she tilted her head and then hesitated…it was then he was sure that she wanted to kiss him, that she was waiting for him to do something.

 _You got this, Carl. You got this._

He swallowed heavily and then copied what she was doing, but no sooner than he had started leaning in did a startling thought occur to him. _Ron_. He suddenly pulled away at this thought, his mind racing as he tried to speak, but no words would come out of his mouth. As quickly as it all began Enid too pulled away, her lips pursed as she looked out into the tree canopy and let her hair fall over the side of her face. Her cheeks were red with embarrassment, and her hand quickly let go of his.

"Wai…uhh…wha…" Carl scrambled to form coherent words, but it was like the panic disconnected his brain from his mouth and nothing would work anymore. He knew what he wanted to say, but his desperation to say it before she got the wrong impression rendered him dumb.

 _What the fuck are you doing?_

To his relief, Enid took a deep breath and looked at him, quirking her eyebrow as an amused smile crossed her face. "Something to say there, Grimes?"

Starting again, Carl clenched his jaw shut and took a deep breath in through his nose, relieved when he felt his panic residing and functional thought taking its place. Finally he managed to speak. "It's just…what about Ron?"

Enid looked surprised by this question, and then she sighed dejectedly as though remembering a last minute chore she had forgotten to complete. "I'm not Ron's girlfriend," she said firmly, looking out across the tree canopy. "We kissed a couple of times, before you even got here. That's all."

"I always thought you kind of were."

She shrugged. "I guess I let him think that for a while, he seemed to like the idea, but it was ages ago. It's not like I do anything with him that I don't do with you or Mikey."

He blinked stupidly, trying to keep up. It suddenly occurred to him that although he thought she was Ron's girlfriend, he'd never actually seen them kiss. "Wait, so…you don't do this with Ron or Mikey?"

"What? Get rejected? No, I don't think they're that stupid," she said, half teasing and half serious.

"Right. Okay, cool," he muttered to himself, swallowing heavily.

As the details were clarified he felt his palms beginning to sweat again, and he looked at her nervously. What was he supposed to do now? Should he…should he try to kiss her? Did she even want that anymore? Maybe she was mad at him now…a sudden change in mood wasn't unusual for Enid. There was a long moment in which they simply looked at each other, and it seemed she was enjoying the way his mind was tormenting itself, for she didn't immediately relieve him of the questions running through his mind. Finally she did something, the return of her fingers brushing against his giving him the indication he needed. Although she didn't lean towards him or give any other signal, something inside him told him to go for it, to test the waters. Summoning every ounce of bravery he had he slowly leant towards her, his eyes darting to her lips as he tried not to show how nervous he felt.

She met him halfway, and though it was clumsy and he kind of missed her lips at first, his heart soared with elation as they kissed. The contact felt surprisingly normal, and as his eyes drifted shut he remembered that he was probably supposed to do something other than just touching her lips with his. He was grateful when she seemed to take the lead, feeling the way she pulled back just enough to tilt her head the other direction. Their noses bumped awkwardly, but Carl was hardly paying attention to that, for moments later he felt her lips parting just a little. They kissed properly now, or at least what he thought properly was anyway, and in the back of his mind he hoped that his breath wasn't completely awful. Enid's breath wasn't, it was fine…but was his?

 _Am I supposed to use my tongue? When do I breathe?_

Before he could ponder this any further Enid slowly pulled away, their eyes drifting open to look at one another. Holding his breath Carl waited for her reaction, nervously anticipating what she would say or do now…was that completely terrible? He had no idea what she was thinking right now, and so it was a relief when she gave the hint of a smile before turning away and taking a deep breath. Following her lead he did the same, the two of them resuming the comfortable silence that often occupied their time together. His mind racing with both elation and worried questions, he watched Enid from the corner of his eye, waiting…

"Was that your first kiss?" she asked, not unkindly.

Carl hesitated, his first instinct being to deny it, to say that he was a pro kisser despite evidence to the contrary. But he didn't…he had never felt the need to lie and talk himself up to Enid, and he wasn't going to start now.

"Yeah, it was."

She nodded slowly, licking her lips before turning back to him. "That's kind of cool."

"Really?"

She nodded again, and then she didn't drag out her next move. Leaning closer once again she gave clear indication as to what she was waiting for, and his nerves faded as they kissed again. This time it was a little easier, the motion coming more naturally. Their noses didn't bump, he didn't miss her lips…as his mind slowed down and relaxed a little bit he found he actually enjoyed this kiss. He dared to deepen it a little, moving his lips across hers more firmly, but that was all. He knew there were other things he could do, that he could try using his tongue or putting his hand somewhere on her body, but he didn't dare. Aside from the fact that he was too nervous, the rational part of him reminded himself that they were sitting in a tree, and that one wrong move could cause either one of them to fall.

"So…" he began when they pulled apart next, smiling at each other. "W-what now?"

It seemed she had been expecting this question, for her eyes momentarily rolled before she answered with a heavy sigh. "I'm not your girlfriend," she said bluntly.

"O-okay…"

Though she didn't seem mad or upset, she shuffled away and reached for the tree trunk, beginning to lower herself down to the branch below. He watched her go in disappointment, his mind flooding with confused questions that he didn't know how to voice. _What was she doing? Why would she kiss him and then just go?_

"Look," Enid sighed, looking back up at him when she was halfway down to the ground. "I'm not your girlfriend. But if you promise not to go kissing Ron or Mikey, then I promise I won't kiss them either."

He raised his eyebrows at this, but he understood what she was getting at. She wasn't going to be his girlfriend, but she wasn't going to be Ron or Mikey's either. Just as he thought he had this figured out he frowned…that didn't explain why she kissed him.

"Carl?"

"Yeah, cool," he said hastily, trying to just go with it. "It'll be hard, but I promise I won't kiss them."

She grinned at him, perhaps amused by his internal struggle. Without further ado she finished climbing down from the tree and then left without anything more than a friendly wave, leaving him up the tree with his mind spinning out. He and Enid had just kissed…she wasn't Ron's girlfriend after all…she wasn't his either, but he was the one she kissed.

 _But…why? Why had she kissed him?_

He lifted his hat and brushed his hair back, using the brim to fan some cool air onto his cheeks, which he suddenly realised were flushed pink. Sitting there in the silence of the woods he started grinning stupidly, unable to believe what had just happened. He and Enid had kissed…that had really happened. As he slowly came to terms with the unexpected events more and more questions came to him, questions which he had no idea how to answer. The biggest of all was why she had kissed him if she didn't want to be his girlfriend, why she had promised not the kiss Ron or Mikey…what the hell was she playing at? Were all girls like this?

A few minutes passed, and even though he knew he was going to be even later returning home than he intended, Carl stayed where he was, trying to get his thoughts in order. He knew what he needed to do right now…he needed to set aside his pride and anger so that he could talk to his dad. It was the only solution he could see. Noah was dead, he didn't think Glenn and Daryl had much experience with women, he'd learnt not to trust most of what Abraham told him, and this wasn't something he could talk to Michonne about…that left only his dad. Carl knew he could ask him anything about girls and sex, for he'd never made him feel ashamed for being curious, and he'd always answered his questions. He would know what Enid was doing…wouldn't he?

Though he hated the idea of setting aside his pride and talking to his dad just because he needed something from him, Carl came to his decision and stuck with it. He might not be able to ask him today, for first of all he had to endure the inevitable lecture about sneaking out again, but it was a start. As he began climbing down the tree to head home, he felt a weight being lifted off his shoulders, and not just because of Enid. Though he'd been determined to give his dad the cold shoulder until he begged for forgiveness, he felt relieved that he was going to make up with him, that this would all be over. He hadn't yet forgiven him for being a hypocrite, but for his own benefit he was willing to meet him halfway. They could start talking about things, and maybe soon everything could go back to normal.

Well, a new normal anyway. He still had to remember that his dad and Carrie were seeing each other…at least he thought they were anyway. Once Carl made up with him, what would happen with their relationship? Would they stop fighting? Would Carrie move back in? Would they be _romantic_ in front of him? The very thought of it made his skin crawl uncomfortably, the whole idea not sitting well with him, for he was still so torn over how he actually felt. He knew his dad wanted to move on with his life, that he loved Carrie…but what about his mom? Did his dad not love her anymore? Didn't he miss her? What about Judy…would she be taught to call Carrie _Mom_?

Though he dreaded the answer to these questions, he was resolute in his decision to make up with his dad. He wasn't really ready to forgive and forget, but he desperately needed to know what the hell was going on with Enid. His dad would know for sure…right?

Entering the old shack, Carl returned his book to their stock pile and took the half eaten Mars Bar out of his pocket. Twisting the end of the wrapper he put it back in the plastic container Enid kept their snacks in, knowing that it would still be good when one of them came out here next. Besides, he knew she liked Mars Bars, and this was the last one left out here. Before he left he paused and looked around at their stockpile. This place belonged entirely to he and Enid. Even though Ron sometimes snuck out of the walls he didn't know about this shack, and no one else from the community had ever come here. Before he knew it his imagination was running wild, and he pictured he and Enid sneaking out of the walls to come here together. They could come out here to kiss, maybe even fool around and do…stuff. As soon as this thought occurred to him he burst out laughing. As if he would even know what to do with a girl.

Shaking his head to himself, he departed the shack wondering where his dad might be at the moment. He ought to find his dad straight away and get the lecture and punishment over and done with…the sooner they got everything else sorted and out of the way, the sooner he could tell him about Enid.

"What's so funny?"

Carl froze, the polite enquiry not a voice he recognised. There was a brief moment of paralysing fear before the adrenaline kicked in. Instinct told him that he was in danger, and yet despite this he managed to stay calm, keeping his head as he slowly turned to his left. Not even ten yards away stood a woman with long black hair, her shoulders hunched forward as she held a silver gun towards him. There was a long pause as the two of them looked at each other, Carl taking the opportunity to learn as much as he could in that brief moment. He wasn't surprised to see how filthy she was, how dishevelled and worn out her clothing appeared…he wasn't even surprised to see the W shaped scar on her forehead. Still surprisingly calm, Carl's eyes flicked to his right, the direction in which Enid had departed.

The woman laughed at him, her voice scratchy and hoarse. "Don't worry about her…she doesn't even know we're following her, but we always lose her."

Though he was glad to hear it, he took note of the pronoun the woman had used, _we_. Was she alone like the first man Carl had shot a while back? Or was she operating in a group like the Wolves his dad had killed last Thursday? He didn't bother trying to reach for the gun in his holster. The woman held a gun of her own, but even at a distance he could tell that there was no magazine loaded in it. Though there might still be a round in the chamber he still felt a little safer…most guns wouldn't fire without the magazine. Besides, the Wolves his dad had killed had carried a gun, but no ammunition.

His eyes darted to his right again, and then to his left, and he wondered what to do. It was obvious that he needed to make a run for it, and judging by the woman's appearance he could easily outrun her…but could he afford to run home? Even if she couldn't keep up with him, he'd still be leading her towards Alexandria. He'd have to confuse her, to lead her away before doubling back.

"What do you want?" he asked softly, unsure of what to do.

"You," she answered, taking a few steps towards him. "I want you."

"What for?"

She smiled, revealing a mouth of yellow teeth. "I want you…I want your people…I need you."

"What for?" he asked again, not satisfied with her answer.

Her smile did not fade. "Let me worry about that…take me back to your people," she instructed. "And don't pretend you don't have people. You look so clean…so healthy. You've got books, right? And candy bars. Take me there."

Carl shook his head. "No."

She lurched forward another few steps, forcing him to back up too. "No?" she spat at him angrily. "No?"

"I'm not afraid of you," he bluffed. "You're not going to shoot me."

The woman stopped, her body language softening a little. There was a long moment of silence, and Carl held his breath as they stared one another down. Finally the woman lowered her gun, and she smiled at him again.

"You're right, kid. I'm not going to shoot you."

Breathing out slowly, he glanced straight ahead now. He would have to make a run for it, but not towards Alexandria. He'd run for as long as it took to lose her, and then he'd double back and head for home. He could do it, he had a gun and a knife…this woman had nothing.

"Hey," she said, getting his attention. "Just do something for me, huh?"

Looking back at her, he considered her request and nodded slowly. It would be a request for food and water, perhaps even clothing too. It always came down to those essentials before anything else. She raising her hand as if to stop him advancing and looked at him intently, and it was then he noticed that she didn't blink at all. He held her gaze, concentrating on her eyes as he waited for the lids to close, for her to blink.

"Just…be still."

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A/N Pending chapter rewrites, it's looking like this story will wrap up at chapter 56! I hope you guys enjoyed Carl's chapter, and that the final ten chapters are a good old wild ride for you :-) Thanks again to Fester01 for jumping on board, and please do leave a review. Thanks.


	46. Chapter 46

A/N Response to guest reviewer - I hope you find the story begins to take the direction that you're hoping for.

Response to Jofrench22 - We're now sitting at roughly 10 chapters left, depending on how story lines might change, or how chapters might split into two. Yes, I technically have about two episodes of Season 5 left to cover, but I'm taking creative liberties with the timeline. Yes, there will be another story, however I'm not sure I'll update it as frequently, perhaps only once a fortnight rather than once a week - at least until I can build up around 20 draft chapters. Right now I am only about 10 draft chapters ahead in this story, and it's very stressful!

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By some miracle, the sun still rose the morning after Carrie moved out, it's presence a small affirmation that life would go on. In the two days that came to follow her departure Rick found he was actually surprised by how well he adapted to her absence, and by how little actually changed. The hours passed in much the same way, the various routines of life in Alexandria left unaffected. Despite his fears that this would mean the end of their relationship, everything seemed to be okay at the moment, and in fact it brought about a new type of relief he hadn't felt in a long time. Though it seemed contradictory, Carrie's temporary absence lifted a weight off his shoulders. There would be no more awkward or overly polite exchanges, and nor would there be any fighting. His day to day life hadn't changed, but simply knowing that Carrie had left was the difficult part.

They'd seen each other only once since she had left Friday afternoon, but their interaction was little more than a polite nod as he passed she and Jessie sitting on her front porch. With a pitcher of iced tea on the coffee table, Jessie was delicately painting intricate artworks onto Carrie's fingernails, the pink foam between her toes indicating they too had been painted. Sam was there too, smiling at something Carrie said as he painted a canvass on which Jessie had sketched him an outline. It was nice to see Sam happy, to see him as the happy go lucky kid he had been prior to his parent's separation. Despite his reservations, it seemed that Carrie had been right about the effect that new company would have on Jessie and Sam. So as he passed them by he resisted the urge to stop and talk, instead settling for a polite nod of acknowledgement. He would give Carrie the space she needed, the space they both needed. Trusting her word, he was confident that in her own time she would come home and they would work on their relationship with level heads.

Despite the temporary separation being easier than he expected, he found himself missing her more and more, the absence of their fighting reminding him of what they had before all that. Nevertheless the situation was only temporary, and yet again she had been right. It had only been two days, but the breathing room from each other was helping, a weight had been lifted off both of their shoulders. He no longer dwelled on every fleeting conversation, on every uncomfortable exchange they had. Simply not fighting was the greatest relief. Instead he found himself focused on other things, other tasks and responsibilities that although he hadn't neglected, hadn't received the attention he wanted to give them.

At the moment there was nothing he could do about Carl, that was an understanding he had reached days ago, and he knew he simply had to let his son process his emotions in private, much the same as he and Carrie were doing. Rick come home yesterday afternoon to find Michonne on her hands and knees, scrambling to pick up the pieces of the Death Star that were scattered across the garage floor. She'd looked up at him and immediately began to apologise, explaining that she had bumped it with her elbow. Despite her apology and explanation, Rick did not believe her. Michonne was not clumsy by nature, and in fact had great self-awareness of her body, so he knew that it wasn't her. Though he had no proof he suspected that Carl was responsible for this, and that it hadn't been accidental either. Nevertheless he accepted Michonne's apology and then helped her pick up all the pieces, even though they both knew the lie hadn't been believed.

Looking at the pieces of Lego, he couldn't help but wonder what else Carl had up his sleeve, apprehensive for what he would do next to punish him. The entire situation filled Rick with self-doubt, and it was times like this that he wished that he still had Herschel to talk to. For the rest of his days he would never forget what Herschel had told him about Carl's needs, about how it was Rick's job to show him the way. At the time it had made sense for the situation they were facing, but now? Now it felt hypocritical to believe he could show Carl anything…there was so much that he was getting wrong at the moment, so many things he was screwing up. What would Herschel tell him to do now? What advice would his infinite wisdom bring to Rick and Carl's relationship?

Confident that Carl was being looked after next door and that he wasn't getting a free ride on his punishment, Rick allowed him to do his own thing, asking only that he present himself at home for dinner and that he get his sister ready for bed. With that relatively under control, Rick simply went about his usual routine to keep himself occupied. Like always, there was a lot to do in the community, particularly when it came to keeping it safe from outsiders. The sudden appearance of three Wolves at another of their safe houses had the entire community on knife's edge, and he was bracing himself for the next incident involving that group.

Construction on the eastern walls and new gate was completed now, Abraham and his team now working on removing the inner section of the walls and getting the new houses and church in order. Glenn and the run crew had put a hold on their immediate plans, as had Daryl and Aaron, and now any rounds made outside the walls were made in groups of two and three. Even Daryl knew that he wasn't invincible, that he too could be taken by surprise, and he took precautions when he went out for his usual hunt. Sasha now accompanied him to check the snares and lay in wait for something to come along, and though they'd brought home a few kills yesterday morning he'd complained that she was a little too chatty for his liking. For Sasha, time had definitely begun to heal wounds.

That morning Gabriel had held his final church service in the tiny garage, and as of next week would be moving into the church. As usual Rick had opted out of attendance, and though he would take a look through the church and nod and smile in all the right places, he doubted he'd be attending next week either. Next Sunday was Father's Day, and he simply wasn't in the mood for Gabriel to subtly tell him what a terrible father he had become. Instead he chose to stay at home like he usually did, and with Michonne on watch and Daryl out hunting with Sasha, that left him at home with Judith. It had been a while since he spent the day with his daughter, she being another of the responsibilities that he hadn't given his full attention to. But she was forgiving of this, understanding of the way he was often only with her during the mornings and evenings. Today though she seemed to flourish in his company, the two of them enjoying one another's company while everyone else was out doing various activities.

As the morning progressed Rick got itchy feet as usual, and as soon as Judith had awoken from her very brief morning nap he got her ready and then took her out with him. The community was in full swing following church, Gabriel now holding Bible study outside the new church while others congregated in the new grassed areas, Ron and Sam tossing a football back and forth with Pete. While it aggravated Rick to see Pete enjoying time with his children as though he was just another member of the community, there was nothing he could do to stop him. Abraham was supervising him that day, and so far he hadn't approached Jessie or even looked at her. For now it seemed Pete was on his best behaviour, but Rick didn't allow himself to grow complacent. Abusers were often like that, lulling the people around them into a false sense of security, and this was an act that Rick wasn't going to fall for. He knew that just like with the Wolves, the next incident involving Pete couldn't be far away. Another understanding he had reluctantly come to was that there was nothing he could do about Pete. He had no choice but to let the incident with Carl go, for he couldn't confront Pete about it, and nor could he kill him.

He refused Carol's offer to take Judith off his hands and instead took her with him into the armoury. Making sure that there was nothing dangerous she could get her hands on, he put her down and let her wander around, curiously peering up at the large rifles mounted on the walls, her fingertips touching the cold metal lockers that housed their handguns and ammunition. Supervising her closely, Rick consulted the inventory that Olivia kept, comparing it to what they had in stock. It wasn't necessary for him to check up on her, particularly given that Carrie was the one who kept the spreadsheets updated, but for him it was just part of his routine. He needed to know what they had in stock at all times, that he was aware of their strengths and weaknesses. Taking time to appreciate the neat and orderly graphs Carrie had made, he confirmed again that they were saving a great deal of ammunition now that they were trapping Walkers with the pits and spikes. These days it was an unusual occurrence for those on watch to fire on Walkers, and they really only did so to keep their skills sharp or to break up clusters before they properly formed.

Satisfied he was up to date with the armoury, Rick began heading to the western side of Alexandria. Too impatient to let her walk he carried Judith on his hip, ignoring her indignant requests to be put down. Her personality was flourishing more and more, her sweetness occasionally overshadowed by the belief that she was in charge, and that everything was " _mine_ _!_ " Knowing what would make her happy, he took her to Alexandria's most popular attraction, Buttons.

With their three new chickens completely overshadowed, attention had been turned to their new mare, one whose capture had brought a great deal of happiness to the community, but to Aaron in particular. The supply run Glenn and the others had taken earlier this week had been rather fruitful, and they felt tentatively well prepared for Buttons' to foal in a couple of weeks. They had some specialist food and supplements she would need, and enough worming medication and equipment to keep them both happy and healthy for the coming months.

"Ahhhh mine," Judith declared, reaching out towards Buttons when they arrived at her enclosure.

Hastening to quieten her, for Buttons was still a little skittish and mistrustful of them, Rick circled the perimeter of the large enclosure, checking things out. With her experience Maggie was the ideal person to be getting to know Buttons, to acclimating her to human touch and interaction once more, but with her pregnancy none of them wanted her to risk it, herself included. One wrong move could see Buttons bolt, could see her rearing up or kicking, putting Maggie at risk of injury. So for now Michonne was about the only one who tended to Buttons, though it seemed she had taken a surprising liking to Tobin's deep voice and kind face.

"Rick," Daryl announced himself, getting his attention.

Sensing a negative tone, Rick looked over his shoulder to see Daryl and Sasha passing through the gardens on their way to see him, both looking particularly unhappy. "What is it?"

"Carl," he replied bluntly, his lower lip curled into a scowl. "He's outside again."

With a heavy sigh Rick looked at Judith, knowing already that the time he intended to spend with her that day was being cut short on account of her brother. "Right," he stated lowly.

"We tried to convince him to come back in," Sasha spoke up. "But he treed himself and refused to come down. Daryl was on his way back to get you, but he managed to slip past me when some Walkers turned up. I'm sorry."

He listened to her explanation, but didn't hold it against her. "He treed himself?"

"Slippery little shit," Daryl muttered darkly.

"We teach him these things to protect himself," Sasha added in exasperation. "Not so he can use them against us. I saw him heading west, but-"

"But knowing him, he was trying to throw you off," Rick concluded, knowing how his son's mind worked. "I suppose Enid's out there too?"

Daryl and Sasha exchanged a glance. "We saw her about a half hour before Carl," Sasha confirmed. "I thought the understanding was that we let her do as she pleases."

"It is," he agreed, rubbing the back of his neck as he tried to think.

With Rick already doing such a good job of screwing things up he was reluctant to fight with his son anymore, even if he needed to be disciplined for endangering himself yet again. He briefly entertained the thought of letting Carl stay outside, letting him have this one little victory, for God knows he probably needs it. Nevertheless, it was the thought of the Wolves that drew him to his decision, they being a threat that couldn't be ignored. Resolute in his decision, Rick left Buttons' stable as Daryl and Sasha fell into step alongside him. With Carol at church, most likely flirting up a storm with Tobin, there was only one other convenient option for baby sitting.

Seeing that the red door was open Rick lingered in the threshold and politely knocked, and when it was Carrie who first appeared he looked at her apologetically. Things were much easier between the two of them at the moment, but only because they were giving one another space. Nevertheless Carrie came to the door immediately, looking concerned by his unexpected arrival.

"Is Jessie home?" he enquired, hearing the sound of Sam's record player upstairs.

"Yeah, she's just upstairs," Carrie replied, looking past him to Sasha and Daryl who waited out on the street. "Is everything okay?"

He didn't want to bring up Carl right now, to complicate things even more and delay their departure with an explanation. "Yeah, we're handling it. I need Jessie to watch Judith for me, Carol's at Bible study. Could you-"

"Oh, sure," she nodded, her eyes widening a little when Rick passed her over.

Unconcerned by being passed around Judith happily went to Carrie, though an expression of alarm crossed her face when she felt the awkward way she was being held. Seeking stability she clenched her fists into Carrie's shirt, digging her knees and feet into her body as she hung on. Knowing how much Carrie lacked confidence with the baby Rick wanted to stay a moment longer, to readjust the way she was holding his daughter, but there wasn't time. Instead he brushed his hand over Judith's hair and gave her a swift kiss, going about the routine of departure.

"I'll see you later," he said firmly, looking Judith in the eye as he waved his hand to her.

Her protests began immediately, and she looked at Carrie in dismay. Apologetic for leaving Carrie with a crying baby, though he was confident Jessie would take over momentarily, Rick had to leave. Carl was outside the walls, his anger and petulance possibly leading to carelessness, and so there was no time for him to pander to his daughter. He wished that Carl sneaking out again was unexpected, but truth be told he had been waiting for this. Despite him being on his best behaviour lately, he knew it was only a matter of time before his bad attitude and sullen disposition got the better of him. With two days left of his punishment he had risked it all by sneaking out, and if it wasn't for Daryl and Sasha catching him out there Rick would have never known. His son was craftier and more resourceful than he gave him credit for, and he needed to stop underestimating him. He knew exactly where the security camera blindspots were, he knew the best place to scale the walls was behind the tree near Bob and Natalie's house, and that he needed gloves to protect his hands from the glass and barbed wire on top of the walls. His resourcefulness reminded Rick of a prison inmate making hooch out of fruit cups and toilet water, his tactics wavering somewhere between brilliance and stupidity.

It was disappointing that Carl had blown his opportunity for reprieve from his punishment, his short stroll having just brought himself another two weeks of hard labour and revoked privileges, a big deal considering he must be dying for a Pepsi. Though Rick had no choice but to follow through on the threat of extending his punishment, he was disappointed that it had to be this way. He had been hoping that Carl would be coming home soon, that they could start to work things out. God knows he and Carrie needed that desperately, but Carl had blown it at the last minute, all for a walk in the woods. A part of Rick wondered if he had done this on purpose, if he had intentionally made sure Daryl would catch him so that his punishment would be extended and he'd have another reason to resent him.

"He's got a gun," Daryl assured him as they headed for the gates. "Said he nicked it out of the garage, little shit…but he ain't got a radio."

 _Of course not_ , Rick thought to himself. _That would make things too easy._

"I need to take over watch soon, so I should stay," Sasha said apologetically. "But you should take more people, spread out in a couple of directions."

"Send Glenn and 'Chonne," Daryl requested, taking his cigarettes out of his pocket and lighting one as they walked. "The four of us chewing Carl out...that'll make him think twice."

Agreeing, Rick bid Sasha farewell and then waited by the main gate. Though he and Daryl could get a start immediately they ought to wait and coordinate with the others, to make sure everyone was on the same page. Besides, Rick needed to get away from Daryl, immediately. The cigarette he was currently smoking was an excruciating temptation, the sight and smell of it exacerbating his craving. Aside from a well deserved lapse on Thursday he hadn't smoked all week, depending solely on nicotine patches and chewing gum. It wasn't as easy to give up as it had been when he was twenty one, and this week he'd found himself crankier and short tempered, a bad thing too given everything that was going on. As they waited for the others he tried his hardest not to watch Daryl as he smoked, to keep his attention away from the burning tobacco and happy sighs.

Soon they were joined by Glenn and Michonne, no one needing to be asked if they were sure they wanted to come out. They coordinated quickly, and suspecting that he knew where Carl might be laying low, Rick and Michonne headed south east while the others went south west. They made the twenty minute walk at a slow pace, keeping their eyes peeled for any sign of him, but there was no trace. Whether it was because he wasn't there or he was avoiding them, Rick couldn't know for sure. Ever since he had started hunting with Daryl six months ago Carl had become increasingly skilled with the way he moved about in the woods, Daryl having broken him from the habit of heavy footfall. With the stealthy way Carl managed to walk out here, he was perhaps just as safe as someone like Rick…if only he could walk so softly on the wooden floor boards at home.

As they walked, Rick considered his various options for how to handle his son. Though he was certain in his decision to extend Carl's punishment by two weeks, he took time to consider the different approaches he could take, wondering if he should take a firm or gentle hand with his son. No matter what he did he never seemed to get it right. He'd come down on him hard when he first discovered he'd been sneaking out, but then he'd been understanding and cooperative in the week since he had moved next door. Regardless of whether he took a firm or gentle hand, Carl rebelled against him. Maybe it was time to make him come home, to force him…but he knew his son. Forcing him to do anything would only make him dig his heels in and resist, it would only make things worse.

When they arrived at the old shack a few miles out, Rick went inside while Michonne kept watch, and though he'd partly expected to find some evidence that his son had been there, what he found made him roll his eyes in frustration. He should have checked up on this place weeks ago when he first suspected what he was up to…he should have anticipated this. Set out on the kitchen counter was a plentiful array of food, water, novels and comic books, the old shack having become somewhat of a teenage hide out. This must be where Enid comes when she goes out, but when he noticed a half eaten Mars Bar with the end of the wrapper twisted around he was certain that Carl came out here too. Though he loved candy, often joking that he could sniff it out when hidden, he never ate more than a few bites at a time. With candy being such a luxury these days, Carl tended to savour things for as long as possible, and when it came to a half eaten bar he twisted the wrapper instead of folding it.

"He's definitely been here, though it's hard to say when," he told Michonne when he came outside. "There are comic books and a half eaten candy bar."

"A twisted wrapper?" she enquired, she too knowing Carl's habits.

"Yeah."

Lingering at the shack Rick looked at the front door and critiqued it, surprised to find that it was newly damaged. Going back inside for a moment he opened the door all the way, seeing how it had sustained the damage by being thrown open too hard, the rotten wood splintering when it hit the wall behind it. Stepping over a hallway stand that had been pushed over, he ventured a little further into the shack and entered the old laundry whose ceiling had collapsed long ago. The rear door here was open, and when he noticed this he mentally pictured what might had happened. Perhaps Carl had been here after all. Perhaps he had seen Rick and Michonne coming and had made a run for it through the back door.

Stepping out through the rear, he made a point of looking around in this area too, wondering if Carl was nearby. He looked up into the surrounding trees, knowing that he was an expert tree climber, a skill necessitated by life on the road. Rick couldn't count the amount of times he'd climbed a tree in the last two years, particularly so when they were low on ammunition. But Carl was no where to be seen up in the trees...there was no sign of him anywhere.

Michonne joined him around the back a few minutes later. "What now?" she asked, having just checked in with Glenn and Daryl.

Rick looked at her uncertainly. "We could have just missed him. He might have seen us coming and then made a run for it through the back door."

She nodded slowly, taking this in. "Let's keep looking."

Though he nodded in agreement, he found himself lingering outside the shack a little longer. Feeling as though he had missed something vitally important, he looked around and then cast his eyes up into the trees again. When he was certain that he had looked properly he and Michonne set off again, going deeper into the woods before they reluctantly turned around an hour later, resuming their search closer to home. Worry festered in the pit of Rick's stomach, for although Daryl had said Carl had a gun and knife he didn't have food and water, or a radio…the day was getting hot. Unless he'd taken something from the shack he'd be thirsty by now, hungry too. How long was he going to stay out here for?

As the time slipped away and approached two o'clock in the afternoon, Rick and the others reluctantly began heading home. Having had no luck in finding any trace of his son there was little point in them staying out there, but as his worry grew he forcibly talked himself down. This was just Carl exercising what little power he had. He was doing this on purpose, knowing that Rick would be waiting on his return, and so he was staying out for as long as he possibly could. The sun wouldn't set until around seven o'clock at night, giving him plenty of time to extend his absence and make his father worry.

"How are things between you and Carrie?" Michonne enquired softly. Her katana dripping with blood, she expertly shook it off before returning it to her side, ready to wield it again.

Pausing, Rick considered the answer to this question. Though everyone in the group knew what was going on, that Carrie had temporarily moved in with Jessie, most of them had been kind enough not to bring it up. In a small community everyone was privy to one another's business, particularly so for Rick and Carrie given their relationship had been publicly exposed before they were ready. Being considerate of this, the others in Rick's family had been quietly supportive of the choice Carrie had made, and hadn't felt the need to discuss it at any great length.

"Things are okay," he said honestly. "Peaceful."

"You look like you slept better the last few nights," she commented next.

He nodded in agreement. A sleeping pill was helpful in that way. "Carrie and I…things will work out."

"And with Carl?"

"I don't know," he muttered dejectedly, drawing his knife as a Walker suddenly appeared on his left. Having once been a young girl it was easy enough to kill, but he didn't let this get to him…he had stopped seeing Walker's faces a long time ago. As Michonne took out another Walker and they resumed their journey home, he asked, "Do you think I'm doing the right thing with him?"

"With Carl? I don't know," she said apologetically.

"Everything I do seems to backfire," he remarked, thinking out loud. In moments like this he missed Lori, missed having a sounding board to talk this these things with. "I come down hard on him, he rebells. I go easy, he still rebells."

Michonne appeared thoughtful for a few moments, and then she spoke. "Have you considered not doing anything?"

He snorted in amusement. "Just let him get away with all the crap he pulls?"

"Not like that…my Mom used to make me choose my punishment. She'd ask me what I thought I deserved."

Looking at her in surprise, he raised his eyebrows. "And that worked?"

She nodded. "I always over did it with my suggestions, because I didn't want her to add any of her own ideas," she chuckled.

Echoing her small laugh, Rick tried to picture Michonne as a child or teenager, but struggled. "I like the idea of him choosing his own punishment," he mused. "But honestly? I'd let this all go if he'd just have a conversation with me. That's all I want from him."

"You know, what he's doing today is probably his way of trying to get your attention. He probably doesn't even know he's doing it for that reason either."

"Yeah, that thought crossed my mind," he agreed, hoping this was the case. "He does tend to get bratty when there's something he's not getting from me."

"It will work out. Get through today, and then everything will fall into place after."

"I hope so," he muttered, thinking of everything that had gone wrong at the moment. Carl, Carrie, Pete, the Wolves…there was nothing he could do to directly address any of these problems…all he could do was wait it out and see how things developed. That was the difficult part for him, doing nothing.

They continued their journey home in silence, taking a different route so they could cover plenty of ground as they continued looking for Carl. For the last few days he and Michonne had been making their rounds in pairs instead of solo, and though he lamented the opportunity to find solitude outside the walls, on the other hand it was nice to reconnect with other members of his group. Though he lived with some of his group and the other members were only next door, often times it felt like they went days without properly seeing each other, a stark contrast from their old life at the prison. There they lived in each other's pockets and had frequently complained about it, and in Alexandria they had the opposite problem, a feat given how small the community really was.

As he and Michonne walked in comfortable silence he dwelled on her insight into Carl, grateful for her perspective. Just like Daryl did, Michonne often had accurate insight into what Carl might be thinking or feeling, which was probably what made them such good friends. Though Rick was glad his son could have this type of relationship with others, at times it did make him feel redundant as a father. He often lamented over the fact he wanted to spend more time with his children, but it felt like his other responsibilities were always so urgent, and that he was the only one who could handle them. It was yet another aspect in which he was failing them.

"Rick? Michonne?" Sasha asked over the radio. "Do you guys copy?"

Glad for the distraction from his thoughts, he took the radio off his duty belt and raised it. "Yeah, we copy." He looked to Michonne as they waited, anticipating the news that Carl had come home with his head bowed in shame, dreading the consequences of his behaviour.

"What's your twenty right now?"

Considering their surroundings, he made an educated guess. "We're due south. About ten minutes out on foot."

There was a short pause before Sasha continued. "I need you to go straight to the main road home and then re-advise your location. I'm sending two cars to come and pick you up. Daryl and Glenn, you do the same."

At these instructions Rick's blood ran cold. Something was wrong. "What's going on?"

"I've just had Carl on the other channel," she stated, calmly telling him what he needed to know. "He's at safe house number two, we're gassing up to go and get him."

"Shit," Rick muttered under his breath, he and Michonne immediately taking off at a run. In his mind he mapped out the location of that safe house, knowing it was a considerable distance to reach on foot. "Is he hurt?"

"He said he's got a cut on his arm, but that's all. Daryl and Glenn, can you acknowledge?"

As Sasha signalled to the others again Rick and Michonne headed directly for the main road, sticking close to one another and being as careful as possible. He waited only until Glenn checked in, his breathless responses strained because he too was running, and then Rick impatiently took the line again.

"What channel is he using?"

"Alpha channel, but he might not respond straight away," Sasha replied calmly. "He said the batteries are low, he'll signal to us in another ten minutes. He's safe for now, and he's got a medical kit."

"Did he say how he got hurt?"

"Just that he's got a cut on his arm. He's applied first aid, and he has food and water. I told him to make sure he's locked the doors and that he stay armed."

"Copy that. We'll let you know when we reach the road."

As his mind raced with possibilities, Rick focused on putting one foot in front of the other, he and Michonne racing back as quickly as they could. He was impatient already, needing to be by his son's side without delay, and every minute that he wasn't he was wracked with fear. By now it had been hours since someone had seen his son. What had become of him in that time? It would have taken at least two hours for him to walk to the safe house, perhaps even longer if he was hurt. Sasha had said he'd only cut his arm, but was that the truth? Was she just telling him that to delay the agony he'd feel upon finding he'd been bitten? He wouldn't know until he saw Carl himself, until he heard the story from his mouth, and with that in mind he ran even faster. Making good time, he and Michonne reached the main road to Alexandria in a few short minutes. Breathlessly stumbling to a stop they took a few moments to catch their breath, looking both ways up the road in search of their people coming to get them.

"Sasha? You copy?"

"I copy. Where are you?"

"We're just over a mile down the road. How far out is everyone?"

This time it was Rosita who replied. "We're leaving home now. We'll be there soon."

He breathed a tentative sigh of relief. "I'm switching to the alpha channel," he told them. Though it would make no difference, he started walking up the road, needing to feel like he was doing something other than waiting.

"Got it. Over and out."

Switching channels, he braced himself before signalling to Carl, waiting on tenterhooks for his response. But as Sasha had warned, Carl didn't reply. As he waited he tried making sense of the situation, knowing that although they had cleared out that safe house weeks ago after it had been discovered, they had left behind the emergency supplies they had buried beneath a letterbox. Carl must have retrieved it, and though the batteries should have been fully charged, it seemed they hadn't held up as much as they hoped.

As they walked up the road, continually looking over their shoulders in anticipation, and he was grateful Michonne didn't say anything, that she didn't try to reassure him. He didn't need to hear empty reassurance, he needed to know for certain that Carl was alright. With that unspoken understanding they walked in silence, the sound of their synchronised footsteps helping him focus until he heard the welcome sound of engines behind them. He looked over his shoulder and then crossed to the other side of the road, relieved to see Tobin's pick up followed by the green Hyundai.

The tyres squealed as the pick up came to an abrupt stop on the road, Rosita and Heath in the back scrambling to hang on to the sides. Moving swiftly, Michonne climbed into the cargo bed while Rick opened the passenger door and got into the cabin, the truck taking off again before he even closed the door. When he looked to the driver and saw that it was Carrie he allowed himself to breathe a small sigh of relief. Despite everything that was going on between them he was glad to have her there right now, and particularly glad she didn't seem inclined to drive as carefully as normal.

"You okay?" she asked softly, glancing at him as she drove.

He nodded, still trying to catch his breath. As he put the radio on the seat between them he noticed her Ruger sitting there, and it was then that he looked at her properly. Her gun holster was absent, and her casual attire of shorts and mismatched shoes was an indication as to how quickly she and the others had dropped everything for Carl. Before he could thank her for being there she began filling him in on what she knew.

"I didn't hear anything Carl said over the radio, Sasha was talking to him. All of the watch posts are covered though. We've got Abraham in the tower, Aaron on the north, Carol on east and Maggie on west."

"Who's watching Pete?" he asked, having caught his breath.

"Tobin, I think. Sasha's behind us, she's got Carter and Brody with her."

Rick looked at her in surprise and then at the vehicle behind them. "Carter and Brody came?"

She nodded. "We didn't even ask them, they just met us at the gate and jumped in."

In spite of his fear, he felt a small jolt of optimism, this initiative and level of care coming unexpectedly. "That's good," he commented softly.

Anxious, he picked up the radio and turned it over and over in his hands, resisting the urge to signal Carl again. Sasha said he would make contact with them next, meaning that he should wait, that he should keep the lines clear. That was easier said than done however, but just as he turned the radio again and looked for the button he felt the pick up quickly slowing, Carrie hitting the brakes when she saw Daryl and Glenn on the road ahead. Like Rick and Michonne, they had reached the main road and started heading in the direction, needing to feel like they were making progress towards Carl rather than standing around waiting. They looked relieved when the two cars stopped for them, and they quickly conversed before splitting up. While Glenn jumped into the back of the Hyundai Daryl deftly climbed into the pick up's cargo bed, his crossbow clattering loudly on the metal floor.

Carrie hit the gas and they took off again, a loud thump from the rear indicating the occupants had been momentarily unseated. Grateful for her haste, Rick looked back at the radio again, mentally begging it to come to life, for his son's voice to be heard. But instead the only thing he got was the sound of Rosita smacking her palm against the rear window to get his attention. Turning around to open it, his heart sank when he saw what she was showing him…Carl's hat.

He hastily opened the rear window, the wind noisily entering the cabin. "Where did you get that?"

"Daryl and Glenn found it," she shouted back, jerking her head towards Daryl who was slumped over catching his breath. "About a mile into the woods on the west side."

Rick gaped at her for a moment, trying to make sense of the information. "West?" he questioned, picturing Carl's route in his mind's eye. With very little information to go on, he could only presume he had lost his hat in some kind of scuffle, but his mind kept taking him back to what he had seen at the old shack. He had been so sure Carl had been there that day, so certain in his instincts. But it was unlikely given where his hat had been found in the opposite direction…he would have had to go from the east side of Alexandria to the west, and then further east in order to make it to the safe house. Needing to understand, he looked at the radio again, his finger poised over the button that would allow him to call out to his son.

"Rick," Rosita called out again, slapping the window again to get his attention. "We have to play this safe when we get there, we could be walking straight into a trap."

He nodded in agreement, this having crossed his mind too. Going on what Sasha had told him, Carl had given them very little information about what had happened…either he really did want to preserve the radio batteries, or he had a reason to keep it to himself. It was possible he was being held against his will, that someone like the Wolves or another group had managed to capture him. Without being able to talk to him, there was nothing else he could ascertain…they needed to plan for the worst.

"Sasha? I'm back. Do you copy?"

Rick responded quickly. "Carl, it's me," he said, starting with reassurances. "I'm on my way to get you."

There was a short pause, and then Carl responded with a soft voice. "Hey, Dad."

"Tell me what's going on there. Sasha said you've been hurt."

"It's just a cut on my arm," he said, his tone of voice one that seemed to carry a great weight. "I don't think it's bleeding anymore."

Feeling his heart fill with relief, Rick briefly closed his eyes, grateful that Carl wasn't seriously hurt. "How did that happen?" he asked, wanting him to elaborate.

There was another short pause, Carl's response delayed. "I'll tell you when you get here," he said softly. "Not on the radio."

Rick muttered under his breath. "Fuck." Something had definitely happened, something Carl wanted to share only with him, not the others. "I'll be there in ten minutes, just hang in th…" he trailed off as he felt the truck accelerate in speed, Carrie putting her foot down on the gas. "Make that five minutes."

He was grateful for Carrie's hasty driving, for precisely five minutes later their small convoy was passing through the suburb where their second safe house was located. Having been prepared for such a visit months ago the streets were cleared enough to let them through as quickly as possible, and before he knew it they were there. As the house in question loomed up at them the two cars come to a stop in the centre of the road, the tyres squealing in their abrupt haste. Though Rick's first instinct was to burst out of the truck and rush inside to his son he held himself back, knowing he had to do this safely. The residential suburb was abundant in places for an ambush to lay in wait, full of places to hide that had a vantage point. Their only advantage was that their chosen safe house was the one with the largest yard, the greatest amount of space between the fence line and the house itself. In a sudden attack, this abundant space meant an extra millisecond of warning, and with the dangers in mind the group moved cautiously.

With the practiced ease that came from doing this type of thing before, Rick and the others stepped out of their vehicles and corralled themselves into position. Carter and Brody stayed back a little until Sasha directed them, while Carrie and Rosita started heading around the side of the house. While Daryl took the other side, Michonne sheathed her katana and swiftly climbed the exposed pipes, easily pulling herself up onto the roof to take watch.

"Watch the other houses," he warned Carter and Brody, knowing that they could be taken unawares.

Quickly conversing with Glenn, they stood side by side by the front path and waited, knowing what they needed before going inside. Remembering something, Rick looked over his shoulder to the mailbox belonging to the house opposite, pleased to see that Carl had unearthed their emergency supplies. He would have found the radio, food and water in there, not to mention any weapons he might need. Seconds later they got the signal they were waiting for, a low whistle from around the back indicating that Daryl and the others had cleared all sides of the house.

With his Colt raised, Rick kept his finger near the trigger as he and Glenn crossed the small porch, noticing the small droplets of blood on the floor mat. There were blood smears on the combination lock they had installed months ago, and as he prepared himself to find anything inside he entered the combination and pushed the door open. Shining their flashlights inside, he and Glenn scoped the room before going in, Rick casting his eyes over the open medical kit dumped in the middle of the floor. Swiftly and silently moving about they cleared the living areas and kitchen, which were empty of everything but the essential furniture. When they were joined by Daryl who entered through the back door, they took the time to clear every room and open every cupboard, making absolutely sure that they were alone.

"Carl?" Rick called out loudly, moving towards the foot of the staircase. "It's Dad. Where are you?"

"Up here!"

Hearing the relief in his son's voice, Rick ascended the stairs with his gun raised, Glenn and Daryl following. "What room?"

"Bathroom."

Looking towards that door, Rick waited as Glenn and Daryl slipped into the bedrooms and cleared them properly, opening the cupboards and looking inside to ascertain they were alone. They went about the same process with the two other bedrooms before stopped outside the bathroom, listening as Carl called out to them again, wondering what was taking so long. Assuring him they wouldn't be long, Rick took note of the dried blood around the door knob and few droplets on the floor, blood that hadn't been there when they emptied this safe house over a week ago.

"Carl. Is there anyone else in there?"

"What? No," he said, sounding confused. "Dad, can I open the door?"

He and Glenn shared a quick glance before he stood up and placed his hand on he door knob, but when he turned it he found that it was locked. There was a flicker of pride for his son, for Carl had taken every precaution to protect himself while he waited for help to come.

"Unlock the door."

Having been waiting for this, Carl fumbled with the mechanism before the satisfactory click was heard. The door opened to reveal Carl standing there, looking smaller and more vulnerable that Rick had seen him be in months. His complexion was pale and sweaty, his hair stuck to the side of his face and back of his neck while a white bandage had been clumsily wound around his right arm just above the elbow. He had bleed through it, smears of red covering his bare torso and stomach.

"D-dad," he began tentatively, his voice wavering. "I'm really sorry. I…"

He trailed off as Rick entered the bathroom, opening the door wide and looking around to be absolutely sure this wasn't a trap of some kind. When he was certain he holstered his Colt and went straight to his son, properly looking him up and down before pulling him into a gentle hug. Carl melted into his embrace immediately, shivering as he put his uninjured arm around Rick's waist and held him tightly. Letting Glenn fall back to tell the others, Rick took a moment to appreciate the magnitude of his relief, grateful that once again Carl had evaded serious harm or death. These moments would never get easier, and the relief that followed would never become common place.

"Come sit down," he said, ushering Carl towards the toilet and closing the lid for him. "Let me take a look at your arm."

Taking a seat, Carl peered at his arm critically. "I think it stopped bleeding."

"It hasn't," Rick disagreed. "Hold it up like this, keep it elevated. Are you hurt anywhere else? Any scratches or bi-"

"No," he shook his head hastily. "Just this."

As Rosita came in with the medical kit, Rick stayed by his side and looked around the bathroom, taking note of everything he could see. Droplets and smears of blood marred the tiles, and Carl's grey teeshirt had been tossed into the corner, the dark patches indicating it had been his first bandage. A half empty bottle of water sat in the bathtub along with the handheld radio and weapons from their emergency supply, a scrunched up space blanket indicating he had been trying to keep warm. Watching as Carl shivered despite the warmth of June, Rick unbuttoned his own shirt and took it off, helping him slip his uninjured arm into the sleeve before pulling it around his shoulder.

"Agh, fuc…" Carl gasped in pain, shuddering as Rosita pressed a dressing against the wound on his arm.

"Sorry," she apologised, looking momentarily lost as she lifted the edge of the dressing and properly looked at the wound. She hastily lowered the dressing again and applied pressure. "Rick, I'll need your help with this."

As they tended to the injury Rick managed to catch a glimpse of the wound itself, horrified to see it was of significant length. His heart sank even further into his stomach, for he knew this wasn't an accidental. Carl hadn't tripped and hurt himself, he hadn't cut it on a sharp branch or rock…someone had done this to him. He'd seen plenty of knife wounds in the last few years, and there was no doubt in his mind that someone had taken a swing at him with a large blade.

"What happened?" he asked softly, looking Carl in the eye.

It was clear that he had been hoping to avoid this for as long as possible, for he sighed and then turned to watch as Rosita wound the bandage around the dressing. When he spoke his voice was quiet, heavy with the burden of what had happened.

"It was two of those Wolves. They came up on me a few miles out and one took a swing at me. He was trying to get my neck, but I put my arm up, and…and he got me there. Then he just fell over," he said in disbelief. "He probably lost his balance or something…so I made a run for it."

"Where did this happen?"

"At that old shack out east, you know the one?" Rick nodded in agreement, and Carl swallowed heavily before continuing. "I - I thought I could lose them, but I didn't want to lead them back towards home, so I went west for a while. I just…I was getting tired real quick, and my arm wouldn't stop bleeding so I had to try to stop, and then…"

As his emotions welled up Carl began rambling, trying to get everything out at once. Needing a clear picture of what happened Rick slowed him down, making him take a breath before coaching him through the rest of the events.

"I got up a tree and then started cutting my shirt so I could use it on my arm, but they found me. I didn't really get far ahead of them, so they saw me climbing."

"So they caught up to you," he stated, keeping his tone low and even to help manage Carl's heightened emotions. "What happened then?"

"They just stood below me and waited. They started trying to convince me to come down, they said they'd give me a proper bandage, that they'd help me. I didn't know what to do."

"What else? Did they say anything else to you?"

"They threw a bottle of water up to me. I didn't drink it though. It looked kind of cloudy. They kept trying to convince me to drink it, but I threw it back, and then they just…they seemed to get really mad."

Rick gaped at him in astonishment. It sounded like they'd tried to drug him, their insistence he drink their water surprising him. Was it their plan all along to subdue Carl and then drug him, or was that a last resort, something they hoped would make him pass out and then fall from the tree?

"How did you get away?" he asked, seeing that Rosita was finished with the bandage and was securing it into place. They would need to leave any minute now, but it was clear Carl wanted privacy for this conversation.

Reluctant to talk about it, Carl took a shuddering breath and looked at his knees as he spoke. "I could hear them talking…one of them was going to stay with me, and the guy was going to leave and get the others."

"Did they say how many others? Where they were?"

"No, they just said others."

"Okay," Rick nodded, waiting for Carl to continue explaining. When he didn't, he knew he was going to have to prompt him, that he didn't want to say out loud what he did next. "Did you shoot them?"

He nodded slowly, and then looked up at Rick. "I didn't know what else to do," he confessed quietly.

"You did the right thing," Rick cut him off, not wanting him to go down the path of self-doubt. "You did what you had to do to survive, and I'm glad you did it. Thank you," he said emphatically.

Carl didn't seem convinced at first, but then his features relaxed a little and he nodded. "I'm sorry, Dad…I shouldn't have gone out, I…"

Acknowledging his apology, Rick made a point of not berating him, for Carl had been through enough already. Instead he turned to Rosita who was removing her gloves and putting on clean ones. "Are we good to go?"

"Yes, but I need to keep pressure on the arm." Looking at Carl apologetically, she wrapped her hands around his upper arm and pressed. "Tell me if your hand goes numb, or if you get pins and needles in your fingers. Do you feel faint or dizzy?"

"Faint."

"Do you want me to carry you out?" Rick offered.

Given how long he had been pushing his body and the amount of blood he might have lost, the offer didn't seem excessive, but Carl refused immediately. At their instructions he stood up slowly, getting his bearings before he began walking. With Rosita still holding his upper arm, Carl followed hum through the house and out into the sunshine, briefly closing his eyes as he felt the warmth on his face. As they came out Rick looked up and caught sight of Carrie, feeling momentarily floored by the expression of relief on her face. He shouldn't be surprised that she was relieved that Carl was alright, but her reaction reminded him of what she had told him the day she left. In spite of everything she was still invested in their relationship, she wanted to spend her life with him…that included Carl. This reminder, and her presence here now when he needed her, was the final reassurance he needs that despite present circumstances, everything was going to be alright.

When she caught his eye Rick gave her a short nod, telling her in his own way that Carl was alright, that everything was going to be okay. She held his gaze and then returned his nod, but quickly she was forced to turn her attention elsewhere. While Rick and Rosita waited and allowed Carl some fresh air, Carrie started ushering people into cars, delegating seats and drivers. As the group began filing into cars Rick slowly brought his son to the rear of the Hyundai, a small amount of colour having appeared in his cheeks now.

They got in just as Sasha started the engine, Rick locking the doors from the inside as he helped Carl get comfortable. Rosita sat on his other side, keeping the pressure on his arm, while Rick let him lay down against him, encouraging him to close his eyes and rest for the journey home. As he waited for them to leave he looked up and around, a smile crossing his face. Carrie seemed to have taken the task he usually did, staying on foot and conversing with Glenn as they took a head count and made a final check they they had everything they needed. It hadn't taken long for her to become a seamless part of their group, but in that moment Rick was reminded of that with his own eyes. Carrie was completely in her element, completely in control of the situation her group was facing right now, and Rick had forgotten to appreciate her.

There wasn't time for it now, and perhaps there wouldn't be time for it even in the near future, but he wanted to go to her. He wanted to acknowledge that he had underestimated her, that part of him had hoped to protect her without allowing her to do the same for him. In that moment when she lingered on foot before jumping back into the driver's seat of the pick up, she was taking care of him…it was her looking after his family, not him.

* * *

It had been an exceedingly long afternoon by the time Rick and the others had returned to Alexandria, bringing Carl back to safety. They had taken him straight to the Infirmary, where despite his otherwise foul behaviour, Pete had treated him with his usual expertise and kindness. Though he had little other choice, it went against every instinct Rick had to allow this mongrel to touch his son after everything Pete had done. He'd made an enemy of Rick and both sides refused to let up on their grudge, at least until Carl was hurt.

Whether it was genuine care, or just an attempt to assert how desperately needed he was as a doctor, Pete had set aside everything that had happened. Having Carl lay down he inserted a needle and then started him with fluids and a little blood that Tobin had donated while they were gone. As Denise took Carl's heart rate and blood pressure, Pete gently removed the bandage and peered underneath the blood soaked dressing. It took only a quick assessment for him to decide that it was beyond Denise's expertise, and he'd looked at Rick and bluntly laid out his options.

"I need to thoroughly clean the wound and then assess him for muscular or ligament damage, and he could need a couple of internal sutures. After that Denise can suture the wound itself, but unless you want him left with a scar the size of my hand, I should be the one to do it."

Though it infuriated him to do so, Rick was forced to set aside his pride, for Pete was right. "Alright," he said, the word tasting like acid in his mouth.

With a short nod of satisfaction, Pete got straight to work, and though he was still reluctant to, he allowed Denise to assist him. "Get the nitrous oxide started, with oxygen. Show me the dials before you open the flow. If you gas him to death I'll get the blame."

"What?" Carl raised his head in alarm.

"I won't let her kill you," Pete assured him, putting on his best bedside manner as he ushered Carl to move onto his side. "It's just laughing gas, you'll like it."

In minutes they were organised, Pete injecting some local anaesthetic around the wound as Denise secured a mask around Carl's face. As he breathed in his eyelids began to flutter, a lopsided smile coming across his face. Just as Rick began to relax, tentatively satisfied that Pete had no agenda and would provide the treatment Carl needed, Pete looked at him and smirked.

"Funny how things change," he remarked cheerfully. "A month ago you told me never to touch your children."

Carl raised his head in confusion, his eyes dazed and unfocused as he looked at Pete. "Huh?"

Rick clenched his jaw, resisting the reaction he wanted to make. "Just breathe your gas," he said to Carl, taking his hand and giving it a quick squeeze.

Watching as Carl lowered his head and stared off into space, Rick took a deep breath and refused to acknowledge what Pete had said, no matter how much it infuriated him. Pete couldn't help himself, he had to get his kicks in while he could, but Rick couldn't afford to retaliate. It was clear right now that Pete had the leverage…hell, he had all the leverage. Thankfully HE was done in a little over half an hour. Satisfied that there was no major damage inside the wound, he had spent most of the time cleaning and then suturing the wound closed, taking his time with the delicate work.

"In a year he'll barely have a scar," he assured Rick, applying a dressing and then starting a bandage. "Maybe less if he takes care of it properly."

"Hey, Pete?" Carl mumbled a few minutes later, having come around now that the gas had stopped. "Is it gonna hurt very much?"

"It's done," he smiled, patting him on the hand. "I want you to sit up for a few minutes, and then your dad can take you home."

"Oh…I wanted to watch," he mumbled, rubbing his eyes as he slowly sat up. "It's really done?"

"Really done," he nodded before passing Rick two orange pill containers. "Antibiotics, morning and night with food. He needs them for two weeks, don't stop early. He can have one pain killer now, then one when he goes to sleep. Give him a third if he wakes up in pain, and then tomorrow try him on regular Tylenol if he needs it. Have him shower tonight, but keep that bandage dry. If he starts running a fever bring him straight back to me. Otherwise, come back this time tomorrow so I can check it."

Listening and understanding, Rick braced himself to say the two words he had been rehearsing in his head for the last half hour. "Thank you."

Thankfully they had left soon after that, Rick and Carl slowly walking home as the effects of the gas continue wearing off. As was expected, Carl was of particularly low spirit, his heart and mind full of self-doubt and regret for what he had done that afternoon. Though he understood the necessity of killing someone to ensure your own survival, in reality it was never easy to do, and today the guilt weighed upon him. Nevertheless he carried on, taking a well deserved shower and then having a bite to eat. Before the sun had even set he had fallen asleep on the couch, his head lolling onto Eugene's shoulder who was there keeping him company.

"Rick…Rick…" he whispered urgently. "I thought I could risk having a milk shake at lunch…my lower bowel is suggesting that wasn't a worthy risk."

Understanding, Rick didn't need to hear anymore, and so hastily roused his son and freed Eugene to race home. After encouraging him have a little more to eat, Rick reminded him to take another pain killer and then sent him to bed, instructions that were followed without question. When he brought Judith up a short while later Carl was fast asleep already, curled up on his side with his arm tucked against his chest. He hadn't stirred as Rick bustled around and bathed Judith, nor as he dressed her in pyjamas and began reading, and he was glad to see that he was getting good sleep right now. After incidents like this it was often difficult to relax your mind enough to fall asleep in the first place, let alone stay sleeping. As he and Judith finished the books they were reading, he let her stay sitting in his lap a little longer, always enjoying the final cuddle they shared before he put her in the crib.

With the rocking chair moving back and forth, Judith's heavy eyelids drooped as she sucked her thumb, her attention still mainly focused on Carl. She hadn't seen him sleeping in their room for a week now, and she seemed both curious and pleased to note his return. On that note so was Rick. When they'd left the Infirmary that afternoon there had been no discussion about where Carl was going home to, as it seemed they both understood that the drama of the previous week needed to be set aside for now. Carl was home, his justified rebellion having ceased in favour of the comfort and reassurance he needed more. Over the next few days they would need to talk about things, tomorrow perhaps, but first Carl needed some time for his attack to settle. Despite the very close call, Rick was able to acknowledge the relief he felt right now. Not everything was the way he wanted it to be, but progress was finally being made. Carl had come home, they were on speaking terms again and he hadn't needed to force it.

Sensing that she was ready, Rick stopped the rocking chair and then lowered Judith into her crib. Like she usually did she squirmed and fussed for a few moments, but then came to the realisation that he was right, she was indeed ready to go to sleep. Grunting to herself, she got comfortable and held her duck close, her soft breaths indicating she was fast giving in. Watching her for a few moments, he was both proud and annoyed to see she was sleeping without her pacifier. It was a good start, but it still meant she'd awaken him in the middle of the night when she decided she wanted it.

Tucking her in, he turned on the camera and slipped the monitor into his pocket, checking on Carl before he left. Adjusting his blankets and then feeling his forehead for a fever, Rick was assured that all was well, and he mentally reminded himself to ensure Carl took his antibiotics twice a day. When he went downstairs it was with an odd feeling, because for the first time ever Rick was alone with his children…no one else was at home this evening. Daryl and Michonne were both on evening watch shifts, while Carol was next door. Carrie of course was not at home either, but even that didn't really bother him anymore, for he knew it was only temporary. It was strange to be alone however, strange to think that he had the whole house to himself but nothing to do. Being totally honest with himself he would have liked to go to bed, but he knew he wouldn't have fallen asleep for hours…these days it was hard enough going to sleep, he didn't need to make it worse.

Instead he wandered out onto the front porch, slumping down onto the comfortable couch where he could watch the light fading from the sky. Like always, it was peaceful out here, the silence reinforcing the tranquility of Alexandria. Rick knew that was only something on the surface, that in reality Alexandria was facing a threat that was only growing closer and closer, but still…the sunset was nice. As he tried to relax instead of mulling over the problems yet again, looking out across the gardens and towards the chicken coop, pleased to note that someone had put them away for the night. So far only one egg had been laid, but it was a satisfactory start, and soon enough the other chickens would be following suit. If worst came to worst and the chickens didn't pull their weight, Alexandria would be indulging in some southern fried chicken. Not a bad pay off in his opinion.

As night descended Alexandria was bathed in darkness, with only a small glow of light visible from the houses, another of the precautions Rick's group had implemented so many months ago. The darkness was what alerted him to the approach of a visitor, the beam of their flashlight announcing their imminent arrival. He had a few people in mind that he might expect to be coming this way after dark, and so he was somewhat taken aback when Deanna announced herself, her face just visible from the glow of her flashlight.

"Good evening, Rick," she said pleasantly. "I hope I'm not intruding."

"Not at all," he said, nodding politely before illuminating the coffee table lantern. "Come on up."

"Thank you," she replied, turing off her flashlight and then taking a seat beside him. "I would have come sooner, but I thought I ought to wait until Carl had settled in back home."

"He's fast asleep, has been for over an hour now." He paused, looking at her in interest. "Can I offer you a drink?"

A slow smile crossed her face, one that probably hadn't been there for quite some time. "That would be lovely. A stiff one, please."

"Rocks?"

She shook her head in disdain. "Oh no, I'm a purist."

Heading inside, he opened the kitchen pantry and reached into the very back, choosing the best bottle of scotch whiskey they had at the moment. With so many supplies open for the taking, Rick's palate had certainly been widened since the outbreak. "This is my friend, Glenlivet," he said, setting down two glasses on the coffee table and pouring a measure into each. "He's been very good to me on nights like this."

Deanna chuckled in amusement, taking her glass but waiting until he was seated beside her. "To your son…to his safe return home," she toasted.

"To Carl."

He met her toast and then took a sip, enjoying the taste of the smooth whiskey.

"Mmmm," she said appreciatively, licking her lips. "I like your friend, very much in fact."

Rick smiled, agreeing thoroughly. This was a bottle that Carrie had brought back for him from one of her first supply runs in Alexandria. Though she didn't drink scotch, she knew how to make a good selection, and they had been very appreciative of her knowledge.

"How is he?" Deanna enquired when they had both emptied their glasses. "Carl."

"He's alright for now," he replied honestly, pouring them both another drink. "This isn't the first time something like this has happened…he'll get through it."

"I hope so. Denise is available to him, should he wish to talk to her. The same with Gabriel."

Rick nodded. "I'll bring that up with him," he agreed, though he doubted Carl would be keen on the idea.

"I trust that Pete was…professional?"

Again, Rick nodded. "Yes," he said lowly. "He was."

"That's a relief to hear. We don't need any more drama where he's concerned," she said lightly. There was a brief pause, the two of them taking small sips from their scotch, pacing themselves with this glass. "Michonne came to talk to me earlier this afternoon. She got me up to speed on the situation, and what we're doing about it."

Rick and the others had talked earlier that afternoon, taking the opportunity for privacy while Carl was showering upstairs. Their plans were simple enough, and for the most part they were going to lay as low as possible. In the wake of their fourth encounter with the Wolves, security was being tightened even more. No one would be leaving the walls unless absolutely necessary, Rick wouldn't even be making his rounds. Their immediate plan was to have some cars moved to just outside both gates for easy access, their tanks gassed up at all times, which would unfortunately mean a supply run for this resource. Despite their plans to take the Alexandrians on a hike so they could find their way to the safe houses on foot, they had now refocused their efforts to escaping in vehicles. It was a great concern that not everyone knew where the safe houses were, for so far only a few Alexandrians had been out there with them. It meant Rick's people were going to have to exercise extra vigilance, they would need to be ready at all times.

That was the immediate plan for keeping Alexandria safe, but as for long term? The only long term solution Rick could see was to find these Wolves and kill them, to make the first move…but it wasn't so simple. To make the first move, they needed the upper hand, and right now they had nothing. They had no idea where these people were, how many they had, what their strengths and weaknesses were. All they knew was that they were mentally unstable, and for now didn't have access to ammunition…but that didn't mean they weren't a threat. Ammunition was beneficial in an attack, but not absolutely necessary. Some houses in Richmond had been burnt out, indicating they used fire in their attack. If a fire were to break out in Alexandria, they could lose a great deal.

"You're on board with everything?" he asked, only to be polite.

Deanna nodded as he knew she would. "Yes, of course…more guards on watch, more firearms training. Do you think more people should be armed inside the walls?"

He looked at her in mild surprise, having not expected this suggestion from her. "Yes. I'll be talking to people about it tomorrow. There are guns in the emergency bags now, it won't hurt to have people carrying too. We've got plenty of safes to give out, we should be utilising them."

"As long as they're out of children's reach, I'm in agreement. There's something else I need to discuss with you tonight."

"Oh?"

"This coming Sunday, Father's Day. I'm planning a barbecue in the afternoon, partly to welcome Gordon to the community, but mostly to commemorate the occasion."

Rick nodded. "We'll need to keep the noise down if we're outside. The whole community in one space…that noise will travel."

"I agree. I'm bringing this up because tensions can run high on the holidays. People have lost their fathers, people have lost their children. Not everyone will be in the mood to celebrate, particularly some such as Pete. I've already spoken with Jessie in his regard."

Having anticipated this since the moment she mentioned Father's Day, Rick listened attentively. "What does she want?"

"She doesn't want Pete to be excluded from any festivities. She's going to speak to him about arrangements, she'll take Carrie or Carol with her. Excluding him will be of no benefit."

"I agree," Rick said, noting Deanna's raised eyebrows. "That surprises you?"

"I must say, it does."

He took another sip of his drink, having known all along he wasn't being faced with a great deal of options for this situation. "Keeping him from his children will only exacerbate the problems we already have. Ron and Sam need to maintain a supervised relationship with him."

There was a brief pause, Deanna thinking for a few moments. "Gabriel will postpone church until midday, and then we'll start a barbecue, maybe set up a water slide, play some ball. We've got even more space now, we ought to use it."

"I'll see that the grass gets cut again."

There was a brief pause now, and Rick could feel Deanna watching him. His matter of fact tone regarding Fathers' Day had caught her attention, making him wish he had thought to sound a little more enthusiastic. It wasn't that he didn't care, he just wasn't sure how things were between he and his son right now. Sure, Carl was home, but that didn't mean their problems were over…would any enthusiasm on Rick's part be a wasted effort?

"Has he told you that he hates you yet?"

Rick managed a grim smile, knowing what Deanna was getting at. In some instances, having your child tell you that they hated you was like a rite of passage. Rick recalled saying that to his mother once in the midst of a petulant childhood tantrum, and he also recalled the way she shrugged her shoulders at him.

"He was seven," he answered, trying to fill the silence. "And I told him I wasn't spending thirty dollars on Pokemon cards."

Deanna chuckled, her shoulders shaking a little. "Aidan was sixteen. Reg and I told him that we weren't going to buy him a car, that he should consider getting a job."

"Oh, I bet that went down spectacularly," he laughed, imagining Aidan in his mid teens.

"I went down like a sack of shit, that's how it went down," she remarked in amusement, thanking him when he topped up her drink. There was a comfortable moment as they sat with their memories, and then Deanna continued. "There's no formula for parenting…there's no hard and fast policies, no legislation to guide us. Only instinct, mistakes…"

"No, there's not," he agreed, filling the silence that passed.

"I imagine it must be infinitely harder to do it alone."

Rick didn't respond to this, not knowing what to say or where to start. He knew what Deanna meant by her remarks, that she was willing him to not hold everything with Carl against himself, that he was doing his best…her words were surprisingly reassuring. It was hard doing this on his own, for although he was surrounded by a family he had chosen, when it came to crunch he was a lone parent. He loved his children, he would go to any extreme for them…but doing it alone was a heavy burden to carry.

"What do you think Carl will give you on Fathers' Day?"

Recognising the tone of the conversation changing, he gratefully went with the flow. "As long as it's not a pen holder made of popsicle sticks, I won't mind. I had three of those damn things sitting on my desk at the station, they were awful."

"At least you didn't have to wear a dried macaroni necklace."

"Oh, didn't I?" he challenged.

Sympathising, Deanna laughed. "Aren't we lucky that macaroni is rationed for food, not art?"

"Something I appreciate very much." He made a point of topping up her drink before asking his next question. "How are you?"

He didn't need to clarify that he was referring to Aidan's death, for he was certain that it must be at the forefront of Deanna's mind every waking moment. As he expected, she took a deep breath and then shrugged her shoulder's, giving a forced smile to compensate. She didn't know what else to say, how else to respond to an insurmountable question.

"Oh…" she mused, shrugging again.

"What about Reg and Spencer?" he asked, wondering if that might be easier for her to articulate.

"You know…we're learning to manage…I think that's all we can do."

Understanding, he gave a short nod of agreement. In the months following Lori's death, he too had been forced to learn how to manage without her, to adjust to the change. For a while it felt like he was stuck in a strange sense of limbo, but like everything else it slowly came to pass, though he figured it was a little harder with the loss of one's child. This was one thing he hoped never to understand.

"You know, Rick, I don't know if I ever thanked you for what you did…for bringing Aidan home to me."

"There's no need to thank me," he assured her genuinely.

"It meant a lot to us that we were able to bury him with dignity."

Rick agreed with this, knowing first hand what it meant to be able to bury someone you loved. Though he hadn't been able to bury Lori, they'd returned to the prison and had buried Herschel on Maggie's behalf. Things like that mattered to the people left behind, and not having the opportunity to bury Lori and say goodbye to her still haunted him. It felt like he'd failed her again, even in death.

"I think I'd best be going," Deanna decided, drinking the last of her scotch before putting the empty glass on the coffee table. "Aidan is…" she trailed off with a sigh, her features tightening with her mistake. "Spencer is waiting for me."

"I'll walk you home," he offered, standing up with her.

"No, no thank you. It's not necessary," she assured him. "Spencer is visiting Aaron and Eric, he's just up the road, and I have my flashlight."

"Alright," he agreed, though he walked her out the the pavement when he saw she was a little unsteady on her feet.

"Bring that young lady of yours to visit me some time," she requested, gesturing to the monitor that sat on the coffee table. "I miss her sweet smiles."

"They're not so sweet any more," he jested, walking her a little further up the pavement. "She's developed an attitude."

"Ahhh, she must be testing the waters," she mused out loud. "Seeing how far she can get with Daddy."

Rick smiled, for Deanna was right. "If it weren't for Carol, she'd be winning for sure."

"Oh, I don't believe that for a second," she smiled, turning on her flashlight and shining on the pavement. Turning back to him she drew a heavy breath, and then patted his upper arm before heading off. "Thank you for the drink…good night."

"Good night."

Despite her assurance that she would be fine, Rick lingered out on the pavement and watched her depart. Soon her silhouette faded into the darkness, but he watched the beam from her flashlight as she made her way up the street, and when he saw it divert a little to the left he was satisfied she had made it to Aaron's house safely. Assured of this, Rick took a deep breath and looked around through the darkness. Those on watch each had radios, they would call if there was something they needed, a hot drink or a bathroom break being the most common request. Turning to look back up the street again, he couldn't help but wonder what Carrie was doing right now. It was a little early even for her, but perhaps she was in bed already…he'd checked the schedule earlier, she was rostered on for a morning shift on the north post. He was tempted to go and find her, to interrupt her quiet evening at Jessie's place so they could talk, but he knew he wouldn't. She'd asked for space, and though he knew he had passed the stage of wanting to fight with her, he needed to respect that request.

It was only temporary.

Returning to his place on the front porch, Rick sipped at the last of his scotch, but resisted the temptation to pour himself another. He'd had more than enough, especially considering he was meant to be extra vigilant at the moment, prepared and ready for anything at all. As he finished the rest and put the lid on the bottle he noticed the lights on the baby monitor illuminate, a brief flash of colour indicating sound. He looked at Judith who was sleeping peacefully, and deduced that it was Carl making the noise. But whatever he was doing, it wasn't audible over the monitor, and so he didn't go up to check on him. He was probably going to the bathroom or getting a drink. The last thing Carl wanted right now was unnecessary fussing…if he needed Rick for anything, he would come down.

This proved to be the right move, for five minutes later Carl appeared at the front door, blearily rubbing his eyes as he looked out at Rick. "Where is everyone?"

"Michonne and Daryl are on watch, Carol's next door. Are you okay?"

Carl nodded, giving an exhausted sigh as he wandered onto the porch and slumped onto the love seat beside Rick. "Just woke up, that's all…was thirsty."

"How's your arm?"

"It's kind of aching a bit."

There was a pause now, but the silence that ensued was comfortable, allowing Rick some time to think while Carl sat quietly. He watched his son from the corner of his eyes, noting the fact that he was still half asleep, his shoulders slumped and his eyelids drooping a little. Nevertheless he seemed content to be outside, perhaps enjoying the fresh air as if he didn't get enough of it that day.

"So, how much trouble am I in at the moment?" Carl finally spoke up, sounding as though he dreaded the answer.

"Trouble for sneaking out again?"

"Yeah."

Rick paused, considering his options and thinking about something Michonne had said that afternoon. "A fair bit. What do you think your punishment should be?"

Surprised by this question, Carl took a moment to think about his answer. "Another two weeks of being grounded…and working."

"Our former arrangement would seem fair."

"I guess," he nodded in reluctant agreement.

Another time he might have let Carl wallow in self-pity and dread for a little while, but tonight Rick relieved him quickly. "A lot's happened lately," he stated gently, leading into what he wanted to say.

"Yeah."

"There's a lot for us to talk about with one another. We both have to earn one another's trust again."

He watched as a flicker of surprise crossed Carl's face, these remarks coming as a surprise to him. He suspected what Carl was thinking, that he was taken aback by the notion that Rick was willing to earn his trust again, that even though he was his father it was something he owed.

"Yeah, I guess so," he said quietly, picking at some dirt under his fingernail. There was a long silence now, and it was clear that Carl was waiting for him to continue.

"I was thinking you and I should start on a clean slate."

This got his attention, and he looked up at Rick. "Like…a truce?"

"Sure. A truce would be nice."

"O-on everything?"

Rick nodded. "On everything. No more being grounded, and no more living next door…a clean slate for both of us."

Carl swallowed heavily, flexing his jaw as he nodded.

"We still have things to talk about," Rick repeated gently.

"Yeah, I know," he nodded, reassured and reminded. "But okay…truce."

At this remark Carl extended his hand to shake on it, this normally being the binding seal on an important promise or agreement between them. Rick's father had raised him with the belief that a handshake was a man's word, that it was binding and significant, and he'd passed that belief onto his own son. They'd shaken hands when Carl first learnt how to use a gun, when he'd learnt to kill Walkers, before they departed for the Georgia supply run. But tonight it felt too formal for them, too impersonal. Ignoring Carl's extended hand, he reached around and pulled him into an embrace, careful not to aggravate his injury. Grateful for their understanding, Carl moved a little closer and returned the embrace, sighing as he relaxed into Rick's side. A few moments of peaceful silence passed, allowing Rick to dwell on the relief he felt. There was still work to do, but this was a start.

"Truce."

* * *

A/N I'm very sorry for not posting this chapter last week, I'll do my best to stay on schedule from now on.


	47. Chapter 47

In the wake of what happened to Carl, security in Alexandria had been tightened yet again, restricting the residents to near confinement within the walls. All supply runs and exterior construction had been put on hold indefinitely, small groups venturing out only to clear Walkers from the spikes so that their incessant growling didn't attract unwanted attention. The measures were drastic, but a necessary call given how the seriousness of the situation had escalated. Not only had Carl been attacked, but the Wolves in question had asked him to take them back to his people. They knew Alexandria was out here, they were actively searching for it, and if it weren't for the difficulty in tracking Enid who was so frequently outside they would have found them by now.

With such tight protective measures in place, those like Daryl were beginning to go stir crazy in the few days that had elapsed, and so when he had seen with his binoculars that the snares were full there was no stopping him going out. Their freezers were filled with meat, but not emptying the snares was not only a waste, but would attract Walkers and compound minor problems. Given everything that was going on, Carl was surprised when Daryl woke him early one morning and gruffly told him that they were going hunting, and even more surprised when his dad sleepily granted permission. Given his apparent complacency in the matter, Carl got the feeling the notion of he and Daryl going hunting had already been discussed at great length, that his dad was probably the one who suggested it.

Elated by the suggestion, Carl gratefully accepted Daryl's offer and hauled himself out of bed. It had been weeks since he had been hunting, weeks since he had used his crossbow and gone outside the walls with permission, and he didn't want to pass this up. So regardless of the former restrictions, he and Daryl departed the walls side by side just as the sun began to rise, though they didn't go far. Taking precautions, they didn't venture further than a few yards into the eastern woods, staying within sight of both the watch post and the surveillance cameras. What's more, they had been joined by Rosita and Michonne who were crouched a few yards away, listening and waiting for any sign of a disturbance.

"Sorry we can't go far," Carl had mumbled apologetically as he and Daryl settled into position. They were too close to Alexandria to catch anything of significance, the larger wildlife frightened off by the Walker pits.

"It's alright," he muttered, loading his crossbow and then checking Carl's, always so careful. "Wasn't going far anyway, not with _them_ out here."

Carl scoffed at this, believing Daryl was just trying to make him feel better.

"No, really," he said bluntly. "Violent son's o' bitches I can handle. But crazy? You don't fuck with crazy, yah hear me?"

Amused, Carl just nodded his head and settled into position, his crossbow ready to raise as soon as he had something in his sights. Despite his grateful acceptance of Daryl's offer to go hunting, he found he was rather keen to finish up and get home, and they'd barely even started. He'd been at home a couple of days now, and thankfully things had taken a major turn. There was no more working, and there was no more avoiding his dad by living next door. Ever since their truce last Sunday night things at home had been easy…peaceful even. There was a new sense of starting over between he and his dad, and they'd even started talking about a few of the things that had happened between them, though it was a slow start. Despite their reconciliation, there was one topic that had yet to be brought up between them, and the more time passed the more it began to feel like the elephant in the room.

To Carl's dismay, Carrie hadn't yet moved back home with them. He had assumed that she would come home the day he did, or at the very least the following day. But as the days passed and there was no indication of her return he started to grow worried. He waited for some kind of explanation from his family, for the topic of Carrie to be brought up, but it never was…that worried him even more. Was this a permanent thing then? Was she never coming back?

Had she and his dad really broken up? Was Carl the cause of that?

The night before Carrie had left they'd had a pretty big fight, one that Carl had almost been able to eavesdrop on from the house next door, but that had been a week ago. Surely they were over that by now, surely they had made up. But they were acting so strange, he'd seen it himself. When they passed one another in the street they would smile or wave as if nothing was going on, acting as if they didn't hate each other after all…but they weren't acting like they loved each other either. That's what confused Carl. They were acting like they used to, like normal friends, not two people who were supposedly in love. He wished he knew what was going on, that he could figure out how to bring up the question…but what would he say?

"Ow," he whined when he felt Daryl's elbow in his ribs. "What?"

"Concentrate."

Letting out a long breath Carl turned back to the tree ten yards away, his eyes focused on the little tuft of grey fur he could just see. He'd had this possum almost in his crossbow's sights for ten minutes now, but he dared not move to get a better shot at it. If he did the possum would be gone before he could even move his finger to the trigger. So instead he waited, trusting Daryl's experience that it would move into his sights itself…eventually. Another minute passed in absolute silence, without even the sound of a Walker there to break it. That's what Carl needed right now. A Walker coming by would disturb the possum enough, and it would either make a run for it or move around to the other side of the tree. Either way, he could finally get out of this crouched position and stretch his legs.

Turning his head ever so slightly, he looked at Daryl from the corner of his eye, feeling a pang of jealousy when he saw the way his eyes seemed glazed over. He didn't mistake this for a lapse in concentration. Daryl was one hundred percent focused on his task, on keeping them safe from Walkers and Wolves, while also keeping an eye out for anything they could hunt. Like him, Daryl was crouched with his crossbow loaded and ready, his finger on the trigger guard ready to move. He looked so peaceful, so relaxed and at ease, completely in his element. There was nothing on his mind, nothing weighing him down. Carl was envious of him. No matter how hard he tried he could never stop thinking, he could never switch his brain off and find the peaceful serenity Daryl currently had.

"What?" Daryl asked, sounding a little annoyed.

"Nothing," he said hastily, turning back to the possum. "Sorry."

"Then why you givin' me the stink eye?"

"I'm not."

A long pause passed, Carl trying his hardest to focus. Before he knew it his eyes were moving back to his left, looking at Daryl again until he stopped himself. He still felt badly for his behaviour the other day, by his outright defiance of Daryl's authority…but Daryl had accepted his apology, and now it was as if none of it had ever happened. In fact, many things seemed to be approached as though they had never happened. He and his dad had started on a clean slate by calling a truce, and it seemed everyone else in the group felt the same way. No one had reprimanded him for sneaking out of the walls, not even Maggie who's authority he had been outright defying.

Distracted from his thoughts, Carl clenched his jaw when he realised the stitches on his right arm were itching, and there was nothing he could do about it. It would take too much movement to relieve the discomfort. He'd scare the possum away, and after ten minutes of waiting for it to move he was committed to this. Trying to distract himself he looked back at Daryl again, and he wondered if he could comfortably break the silence.

"Daryl? When you go hunting," he began tentatively, wondering if he should speak at all. "Do you kind of…switch off?"

Daryl nodded, giving a low murmur of affirmation.

"What's it like?"

Daryl seemed to give a short sigh, reminding Carl that he didn't like to chat while they were hunting. "Yah don't have to think, you can just…be."

Carl frowned, unable to make sense of that. "Just be?"

"Yeah, just be there…" he started, trying to explain. "…be in the moment and shit. Focused."

"Oh. Okay."

To his surprise, Daryl actually turned and looked at him. "Yah don't get that when you come out here?"

Carl shook his head. "No. I can't stop thinking."

"Ain't a bad thing," Daryl shrugged, turning back to his former position. "Might help yah sort shit out."

He knew what Daryl was getting at there, that Carl did indeed have a lot of shit to sort out at the moment. His dad, Carrie, the Wolves, Enid acting weird…it felt like there was a lot going on at the moment, and he wasn't sure how he was supposed to manage all of it at once. What he wanted was to fix everything at once, to tie up loose ends and get all of his problems sorted and set aside. This week had brought him a much needed sense of peace, but his problems were always on the horizon, always waiting for him.

"I wish I could switch off out here," he muttered glumly, sighing as he looked at the possum again. The stupid thing still hadn't moved.

"If you don't like it out here, then you d'yah keep comin' with me?"

"I do like it," he hastened to explain. "I like hunting, I like hanging out. I just…I wish I could do it like you do, I wish I could switch off."

There was a short pause, and then to Carl's surprise, Daryl moved a little. This was unusual, for Daryl very rarely moved when they were in position waiting for something. He never fidgeted, he never coughed or sneezed…his movement indicated that Carl had broken him from his comfort zone, that he was no longer fully invested in the hunt like he was before. In spite of this he smiled a little…if Daryl wanted to ignore his attempt to make conversation he would, but he hadn't. He was listening, he was paying attention. Unlike his dad, often times Daryl could be a little too aloof and distant for Carl to go to him for help, but when he asked for it he was never turned away.

"When _do_ yah switch off?" Daryl asked him.

"I don't know."

Daryl made a sound of disagreement. "Nah, come on man. Everyone has a thing. Spill."

"I don't have a _thing_."

"Your dad gardens. Carol cooks. Michonne does yoga. Carrie jogs. Rosita kick boxes. Maggie cleans. Sa-"

"Yeah, alright," Carl cut him off impatiently. "I get it…everyone has a thing."

"You do too."

Falling silent, Carl mentally sighed as he tried to think, and then the obvious answer came to him. "I like working in the wood shop with Tobin."

"Why?" Daryl grunted, pressing for more.

"I dunno…it's fun, I guess."

It was more than fun. Even though it took him a minute to realise, this was where he was able to relax, where he could tune out the world and focus on something else for a while. Comic books allowed him an escape, but woodwork allowed him to focus his attention on something he was creating, something he was building from a few pieces of wood. He'd built a few things since he started working with Tobin, like some blocks for Judith and a photo frame for the picture of he and his parents. When Tobin had noticed him taking to the skills quite quickly he'd proposed a more difficult project for him, one that he would help guide him through.

With Father's Day coming up and unable to stop by Walmart, Carl had few options about what he wanted to give his dad to celebrate that day. So before things had started going to shit between them he begun working on a small wooden box, one that resembled the box he used to have back in King County. If his memory was correct, that wooden box had once belonged to Carl's great-grandfather, and would have one day been passed down to him. It had housed many things in it's life time, usually packets of gum and old receipts when it belonged to his dad, but it had been special. So when Tobin suggested he make something for his dad, that had been what came to mind. He had worked on it for weeks, meticulously cutting dovetail joints and hand sanding it until it was perfect, then as soon as the dark stain had dried he had lovingly packaged it into a large shoe box before hiding it in his pack at the top of his wardrobe.

Still thinking about what he was talking to Daryl about, Carl tried to think of another time when he was able to tune out, when all of his problems faded into the background and allowed him to focus on one thing. He struggled with this notion, unable to think of anything other than the wood work. Except, maybe…

"Sometimes I draw," he said slowly, looking at Daryl from the corner of his eye.

As soon as he said it a part of him wished he hadn't. Almost no one knew about the sketch book he had hidden in the top of his shared closet, the pages of which were filled with drawings and sketches of various skill. Glenn knew, having been the one who brought him the supplies and artist's pencils, and he was pretty sure his Dad had seen it once, but hadn't snooped. Carl had made a point of not telling anyone that he liked to draw, that some of the times his Dad used to suspect he was outside the walls without permission he was actually hidden in their closet with a pencil in hand. He'd been drawing for a few months now, inspired by his comic books, but he could never get his creations just right. There was always something amateurish about what he did, a level of talent he could never quite achieve. He knew he ought to ask Jessie for help, that she'd give him some good pointers, but he didn't want anyone to know what he did. Drawing was his secret pleasure, something he kept entirely to himself. He didn't have to show anyone, he didn't have to meet any expectations except his own. Until now.

"I didn't know yah draw," Daryl said softly. "You any good?"

Carl shrugged, unsure of this. "Maybe…sometimes."

"You ain't shown me nothin'."

Looking at him, Carl was surprised to hear that he sounded slightly offended, put out. "I haven't shown anyone."

"Not even yah dad?"

"No."

There was a short pause, and when Carl didn't elaborate Daryl pressed him for more. "So…what do yah draw?" he asked expectantly.

"Just, you know…stuff," he said lamely, not wanting to tell him. "Things."

"Right," Daryl grunted, getting the hint. "So that's your thing then? You switch off when yah draw?"

Carl nodded. "I like making stuff, I guess…"

"So then why you out here complainin' instead of in there with a pencil?"

"I like it out here," he said hastily. "And sorry. I'll shut up."

"It's alright…yah don't have to shut up."

With that the conversation concluded awkwardly, neither of them knowing what to say from here. As the silence stretched on Carl tried to focus on the possum, but now that his attention had been sparked his mind wouldn't stop racing…he had so many things on his mind right now.

"Daryl," Carl began, unsure of why he was voicing this question to him instead of his dad. "Do you know much about girls?"

As he expected, there was a brief silence. "Girls, as in…"

"Enid."

"What happened?"

"Well, she…the other week, she sort of kissed me," he said awkwardly. "And I sort of kissed her back."

At this Daryl turned and looked at him, another brief silence passing. "She kissed you?"

"Yeah."

"Huh…good for you," he muttered, sounding surprisingly pleased. Despite this, he promptly turned back around.

"Thanks," Carl said uncomfortably, still looking at him. "So?"

"So?"

"So, wh…what do I do now?"

Daryl muttered something under his breath, appearing slightly alarmed. "You asking me for advice? About girls?"

"Yeah," Carl said impatiently. Hadn't he made that clear?

"Ask your dad that shit, not me."

"Oh, yeah okay," he blushed, turning his eyes back to the possum. "Sorry."

Beside him, Daryl fidgeted again, jerking his head to get his hair out of his eyes. Carl could feel him looking around at him, critiquing him, wondering why he was so chatty today. Normally when the two of them hunted they did so in near silence, speaking only to communicate their next move, or for Daryl to relay some hunting advice. Thinking on this, Carl felt stupid for bringing up Enid, for starting a conversation in the first place. He was just annoying Daryl, intruding on the time when he normally relaxed and felt at ease.

"Alright," Daryl sighed. "So you two kissed then. What's the big deal?"

Breathing a sigh of relief, he explained. "I never kissed a girl before."

"I figured. Why the long face about it?"

Carl hesitated, both surprised and grateful that Daryl was willing to talk to him about it. "Well, it's just that she got all weird. She was totally cool, but then she said we weren't going out or anything, and that…that…I don't even know what else she said."

Daryl mulled over the new information. "If she don't wanna go out with yah, then why'd she kiss yah?"

Looking around at him, Carl's eyes widened as he lowered his crossbow. "That's what I want to know!" he whispered in relief, glad he wasn't the only one who didn't understand. "I don't get it. It's cool if she doesn't want to be my girlfriend or anything, but why would she kiss me? And if she doesn't want to be my girlfriend, then what does she want? Are we just friends now? Do we just keep being normal and act like it didn't happen? But what if she kisses me again, what am I supposed to do then? I mean, I'm all for it if she is, but she's just not making any sense…" Carl began trailing off in embarrassment, realising he had been ranting. He started to blush. "Sorry."

Resembling a deer caught in the headlights, Daryl made a short sound in the back of his throat and looked at Carl in astonishment. "That shit's complicated," he said in awe, his brow furrowed. "Fuck."

"So you think it's weird?"

"Fuck yeah, it's weird. But you over thinkin' it too. A girl kissed you. Happy days."

"That's all you got for me? Happy days?"

Daryl shrugged his shoulders and resumed his former position. "Why do people keep asking me for advice about women?"

"I thought you've had a lot of girlfriends."

He snorted in amusement. "Yeah, alright…ain't none of 'em my girlfriend though."

"What do you mean?"

Daryl muttered something under his breath. "Keep forgettin' how innocent you are."

"I'm not innocent," he said in annoyance. "I'm not a little kid, I know what sex is. And I know more than what Dad told me too," he added proudly.

"Well Mr Know It All, what I meant was I didn't have no girlfriends. I had one night stands…booty calls. Ain't no girlfriend material there."

Unable to help himself, Carl snickered in amusement. _Booty call_ always made him crack up. "So? What do I do?"

"I dunno. Don't ask me, ask someone else," he huffed impatiently. "Not Glenn though, he's fucking clueless. Ain't no one figured out how he got Maggie, not even him."

Carl smiled, agreeing. "I'll ask Dad," he said, knowing he should have just done that in the first place.

"Good, he'll know what to do. And don't ask Abraham shit about girls, he'll scar you for the rest of your life. He told me a few things that made _my_ hair stand on end."

"Like what?"

Daryl snorted. "Like I'd tell you. I thought you knew everything there was to know about sex," he teased.

Carl looked away in embarrassment. "No, but I'm not a kid, alright," he said, trying to save a little of his pride. He sighed, still looking at the tree and waiting for the possum to move. "Beth would know what to do."

Like always, Daryl hesitated before acknowledging any mention of Beth. "Yeah, she would," he said softly, though he quickly changed his tone. "Does this mean you're over your little crush on her?"

Carl glared at him from the side of his eye. "It was stupid, don't tease me about it."

"You were so damn pathetic."

"Don't tease me!" he whined. "And Mom said it was cute."

Daryl snorted, laughing under his breath. "Cute ain't gonna get you laid one day. Ask your Dad this kind of shit. He knows more than me. Was married after all."

"Yeah," he nodded, thinking about his mom. They'd been married for almost sixteen years. "Hey…don't tell my dad about Enid, okay? I'll tell him," he insisted, beginning to regret that he hadn't told him first.

Looking at him, Daryl considered this. "When?"

"Ummm, maybe this weekend," he said, thinking of Father's Day. It seemed like a fitting occasion.

"Alright…as long as you tell him. I don't like keeping secrets from your old man, that ain't how he and I are. At least not normally."

"It ain't how he and I normally are either," Carl said bitterly, his mood plummeting as he thought about the secret that his Dad had kept from him for months, that he was seeing Carrie.

"Don't say _ain't_ ," Daryl automatically scolded him. "Yah dad hates it."

"I know. That's why I say it."

Silence resumed again, allowing Carl to refocus his attention back onto the possum. In the midst of his distraction it had moved a little to the left, bringing it almost into the right spot. Moving slowly, he adjusted the blanket around his shoulders and readjusted his grip on his crossbow before raising it. He was ready to move his finger to the trigger, ready to fire. His concentration wouldn't lapse again…this possum was his.

"How long you gonna hold that grudge against your old man?"

Carl furrowed his brow. "I'm not. We called a truce."

"Sure, but don't mean you ain't still holding a grudge."

"I'm not," he insisted, annoyed Daryl would think he was. '"I'm over it."

There was a short pause, and then Daryl nodded his head. "Alright."

While he understood Daryl was looking out for his dad, making sure that Carl wasn't going to suddenly revolt against him once more, he was still annoyed. "You think I don't know I was being an asshole?" he questioned, looking around at him. "I know I made things hard for him."

"Ain't just him."

Carl blinked. "Huh?"

"Ain't just him you made it hard for."

His heart sank. As if he needed reminding about Carrie. "I…" he started, unsure of how to articulate his regret. "I know…I just don't know what to do about it."

"You start with sayin' sorry."

"I did."

"To Carrie?"

Carl didn't reply, knowing that he hadn't apologised to Carrie. He thought about the way he'd treated her the day it had all happened a week and a half ago, how he'd yelled at her. She had tried to help, she had offered to leave so that he didn't have to, and all he had done was throw it back in her face. At the time he had been righteously justified, at least in his opinion anyway, but he had to admit this had gone on too long. He'd called a truce with his dad, they had made up and forgiven each other…but he hadn't done the same with Carrie. Was that the problem? Was that what held her back from coming home? Maybe she thought he still hated her. One part of him did hate her for the role she had played, but that part was getting smaller and smaller every day, silenced by the part of him that wanted his dad to be happy.

Hearing the sound of slight movement, Carl looked back at the tree and raised his crossbow when he saw the tuft of grey fur moving. His heart rate accelerated with excitement and then eased as he took a slow breath, practicing what Daryl had been teaching him for months. Raising the crossbow a little higher, he brought the movement into his sights and then moved his finger to the trigger, ready to release the bolt and claim the possum that had teased him for half an hour now. But just as it's body came into the crosshairs and his finger became taut on the trigger he stopped, disappointment flooding through him.

"What?" Daryl asked, having been waiting for him to make the kill.

"It's got babies," he muttered dejectedly, putting on the safety switch and then lowering his crossbow. "Can't kill it." With no idea of the danger it faced, the possum slowly climbed up the tree trunk, it's babies clinging happily to its back as it ascended.

"Were they cute?"

"I didn't notice."

"You gotta notice. If they ain't cute, you're allowed to kill them."

Carl looked up at him in surprise, wondering if he was messing with him. "No you're not."

Daryl sighed in disappointment, looking around before he slowly began to stand. "Can't get nothing past you anymore."

Ready to call it a day, they both stood up and gratefully stretched their muscles out after spending so long crouched down. While Daryl bundled up the blanket and tossed it over his shoulder, Carl checked his weapons and looked around on the ground, making sure they didn't leave anything behind. Before they left they slowly made their way over to the tree and looked up at the branch where the possum and her babies were now perched.

"I wish I could pat them," he muttered, thinking they looked rather cute.

"Stick yah hand up there and see what happens."

Carl huffed and glared at him. "You fooled me with that bird, you're not fooling me again."

In a display of emotion that was rare for Daryl, he grinned as they began heading home. "You were so much more fun when you were dumb as a door knob."

Taking their time, he and Daryl emerged from the trees and radioed Francine who was on the east post that day. Joining them on their return home, Michonne and Rosita went on ahead while Daryl lingered back with Carl who was beginning to drag his feet. Earlier he had been eager to go home and start the day, his heart not invested in the hunt the way it normally was, but how he was suddenly reluctant. There was a whole other day ahead to face now, made harder by the impact of what he and Daryl had been talking about. Daryl was right, Carrie deserved an apology from him…but what was he supposed to say? _Sorry for being mad when you're the one who lied?_ There had to be a way of articulating his apology for everything that had happened, for the way he had probably broken up her and his dad.

"Daryl, when's Carrie coming back?"

Surprised by the unexpected question, Daryl shrugged offishly, looking at his crossbow as they walked. "I dunno."

The first question had left Carl's lips unexpectedly, and so he was committed to continue. "Did she leave because of me?" he asked, bracing himself for the answer.

With a long sigh Daryl slowed to a stop, pulling a strange face as he looked down at him. Ahead of them Michonne and Rosita were waiting at the gate, but they lingered back for some privacy. There was a long moment before Daryl actually said anything, and he seemed to mull over what he was going to say.

"Nah man," he shook his head, glancing up at the gate began to open. "I don't think it had anything to do with you."

This was only slightly reassuring. As the gate rattled open to admit them inside, they lingered for a moment and let Michonne and Rosita go in ahead of them. Leaving the world outside behind, Daryl and Carl returned to their home, each of them feeling as reluctant as the other to be coming back. Behind them the gate rattled shut, enclosing them inside the community once again. For a few moments they walked in silence, but Daryl's answer only created another question, and Carl would not be satisfied that he knew everything.

"So, they've broken up?" he clarified. "They don't love each other any more?"

"Why ain't you asking your dad these things?"

Couldn't he see why he wasn't? How could Carl ask these things when he was likely half the cause? "I just…I don't know how to bring it up. So have they?"

"I don't know, man, I don't know what they got goin' on." Pausing, he gave a heavy sigh. "They got things to work out, alright? Adult things."

"Adult things…like, sex?" Carl blurted out, not thinking.

Darryl snorted in amusement. "Nah, I don't think sex has ever been a problem for them."

Carl's mouth gaped, and he immediately regretted his enquiry. "Gross, Daryl!"

"You asked." Digging around in his pockets, he took out a packet of cigarettes and lit one. Ever considerate, he stood downwind of Carl as they walked.

"So, what's going on then? What are they working out?

Puffing on the cigarette, Daryl let it hang from the corner of his mouth as he answered. "Ain't none of our business."

"Come on Daryl, just tell me."

"I don't know what's going on, and it ain't none of our business," he said firmly, his tone indicating the answer was final. "Leave it up to them."

"But-"

"They'll sort it out themselves. The last thing those two want is you interfering. Just leave 'em be."

Almost home now, Carl slowed to a stop as he looked out towards his gardens, unsurprised to see Maggie and his dad out by the chicken coop. He too noticing, Daryl came to a stop as well and stood by his side, his cigarette hanging from the corner of his mouth as he fiddled with the strap on his crossbow. Though he was less than enthusiastic for the conversation, Daryl knew that he had more to ask, and so he waited patiently. Thinking about what Daryl had said, that Carl ought to just leave Carrie and his dad alone, he watched his dad slowly walking around inside the enclosure.

With her hand resting on her belly, Maggie was standing back a little, and when Rick suddenly lunged for something she burst out laughing. Even from a distance he could hear his dad swearing loudly, but even when he stood up with mud all over his hands Carl couldn't find it in himself to smile. Instead he watched on in silence as his dad lunged for something again while Maggie cheered, and then he stood up in triumph with a struggling chicken against his chest. It was painful to see his dad smiling like that, to see him laughing…Carl hadn't seen him like that for a while now.

"So, what _can_ I do?" he asked Daryl, pressing for an actual answer. He wanted to fix things, he needed to.

Though he seemed exasperated by his questions, Daryl answered. "Say your piece to Carrie if that's what you need to do. Tell her yah sorry, and then leave it alone," he insisted. "They know what they're doing. And they ain't stopped lovin' each other, alright?"

"Are you sure? They're not acting like a couple, they-"

"And who are you to say they ain't acting like a couple?" he questioned, though not unkindly. "You talkin' from all your experience with girls?"

Shifting his weight between his feet, Carl shook his head and then glanced at his dad again. He had noticed his return and gave him a short wave with his muddy hand. "They don't seem like they love each other," he said quietly, the burning guilt beginning to build up no matter how hard he tried to ignore it.

"Let them handle it." As though that was the end of it, Daryl puffed on his cigarette and then swung his crossbow over his shoulder, ready to go back inside. But as he looked at Carl he stopped and paused. "Why you so bummed out 'bout them?"

He shrugged, unsure of how to explain without sounding dramatic. "Just…" he began softly, still looking at his dad. "It feels like I ruined it for them. Dad was really happy, wasn't he?"

There was a long pause now, the silence giving him the answer.

"Hey man," Daryl began sympathetically. "You ain't ruined nothing. You sure as shit didn't make it easy, but neither did they."

"Yeah."

"The only ones capable of ruining those two, is those two," he said firmly, nudging Carl's arm until he looked at him. "You got it? This whole thing is up to them to work out, an' I don't see them givin' up just yet. They're working on things. That's good."

Despite the burning guilt, Carl nodded, having no choice other than to trust what Daryl was telling him. They stood there in silence, the two of them mulling things over a moment longer to make sure there was nothing left to say. Looking back over to the chicken coop, he knew that by now his dad had detected his strange behaviour, that he knew something was wrong. But never one to press him unnecessarily, he didn't call out and ask him to come over. Instead he turned to Maggie and said something, his brow furrowing as he looked down at the other chickens.

Rubbing the end of his cigarette on the sole of his boot, Daryl slipped the stub into his pocket and cleared his throat. "Come on man, go. Help him with whatever he's doin'."

"You going out again?" he enquired softly. It wasn't unusual for Daryl to take Carl home after an hour or so of hunting only to go back out again alone, preferring to spend an entire day in the woods rather than at home.

"Nah," he shook his head, taking Carl's crossbow off his shoulder. "Not with them Wolves out there…like I said, don't fuck with crazy."

In spite of everything Carl found a smile crossing his face. He loved it when Daryl swore, it was almost as good as when Abraham did. "You don't fuck with crazy, crazy fucks with you," he agreed. He grinned, knowing that Daryl wanted to scold him, but couldn't.

"Don't say that in front of him," he said abruptly, gesturing to his dad. "You'll make his head lift off his shoulders and spin around."

Giving him a playful shove towards the chicken coop, Daryl walked past him and headed home, whistling to himself as he climbed the porch steps all at once and went inside. Lingering for only a moment, and feeling his spirits lift with their brief playful exchange, Carl braced himself and headed over towards the chicken coop. His talk with Daryl had made a few things clearer for him, but at the same time hadn't been entirely helpful.

* * *

Thursday morning dawned brightly, and like she did every day Carrie awoke with the sunrise. As the first streams of light penetrated the sheer blinds in Jessie's guest bedroom, she turned onto her side with a long sigh, debating the merits of a sleep in. She had to take the early watch shift for the next three days, although the shift on Sunday would be shorter to allow for preparations on Father's Day. Though she was an early riser by nature, getting out of bed to take watch felt like such a drag…she ought to enjoy her last sleep in.

Delaying, she turned onto her side and lay her broken arm on the pillow, admiring the artwork Jessie had painted on it. A few sections had faded, some chips appearing in the tree branch, but with the artist herself close at hand these flaws had been touched up. Admiring the cast for a few moments, Carrie curled her fingers around and looked at her nails next. Yesterday Jessie had painted them light blue before crafting delicate Daisy flowers onto each, Carrie's favourite. Jessie's skill was incredible, and with the exception of one flower that resembled a fried egg, they were perfect. For Carrie it was a silly indulgence to have her fingernails painted…for Jessie, the creation of something beautiful was part of who she was.

Though she'd be living at Jessie's for the time being, her routine hadn't changed a great deal. She still went jogging, she still worked with Olivia in the Pantry and armoury, she still took watch…despite the fact that her routine hadn't changed, things felt a lot simpler at the moment. Right now Carrie went about her day and occupied her time, but the stress and heart ache of recent times was no longer a burden on her shoulders. It was moments like this that she acknowledged that her decision to move out of her home had been the right one.

Time felt strange at the moment, as though its progression wasn't linear like it used to be. It had been a month since Aidan and Noah died, and three weeks since Pete was kicked out of his home, and today was almost a week since Carrie had moved out. What's more, it had only been four days since Carl was attacked out in the woods. It was odd how those time periods seemed to relate to each other, for even though it made sense, it didn't feel so straightforward. Aidan and Noah's death still felt like it had happened yesterday, the grief still fresh no matter how well she was working through it. In contrast to that, it felt like a lot longer since she had moved out. She had settled into Jessie's home, having been welcomed with immense gratitude, and the simplicity of everything made her feel as though things had been this way all along.

In the week that had passed Carrie knew that her frustrations had eased, that she was no longer so stressed out by what was going on with Rick. The separation and time apart from each other was helping, she felt like she was taking a breath of fresh air and getting her head on straight, a feeling she was immensely glad for. In the last month she and Rick had slowly descended into a cycle of blame and resentment, and the only way to break that cycle was to be apart from one another. Like any relationship, theirs had been heading towards the inevitable power struggle, only they hadn't handled it well…at least Carrie hadn't anyway. So intent on believing that her sense of morality and world understanding was right, she'd been constantly at Rick about their differences of opinion. He wanted Pete dead, and she didn't…yet instead of agreeing to disagree and trusting him, she had tried to change him. It was then that she knew she wasn't fulfilling her role in the way he deserved, that she wasn't supporting him as his partner. She didn't have to agree with his choices, but he at least deserved her support on a personal level.

With a long yawn she sat up and rubbed her eyes. She wouldn't complain about it, but the daybed in Jessie's guest room and office wasn't very comfortable, limiting the temptation for a leisurely sleep in. Gently rolling her shoulders and twisting at the waist, she got up and began dressing for a morning jog. Tying her shoe laces, she bundled her hair into a pony tail and then fixed the loose tendrils with some pins. Last night Jessie had cut it for her again, and though she'd initially cut it to the usual length, Carrie made a spur of the moment request. "Maybe just a little more". Seeking only to please, Jessie trimmed incremental lengths, stopping in between for an assessment. Only when she was at risk of no longer being able to tie it back was Carrie satisfied. Her blonde hair was the shortest it had ever been in her life, at least since that time she'd taken her craft scissors to it in first grade. Reaching only a little way past her chin, her new look invigorated her just as it had when she'd first arrived in Alexandria. Though he'd never admitted it, she suspected that Rick secretly preferred her hair when it was a little longer, but that didn't matter to her. She did this for herself, not anyone else, and she loved it.

That said, the difficulty in tying it back was a little annoying.

Ready to depart, Carrie hastily made the bed and then crept out of the guest room, walking quietly so that she didn't awaken Sam. He'd joined her for her jog yesterday, and though he'd managed to keep up, he was rather chatty, and to be honest she was sick of hearing about Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles. But as she began creeping towards the staircase at the end of the hall, Sam's bedroom door opened behind her. Praying he was bleary eyed and still in his pyjamas, Carrie turned around to face him. She had no such luck, but she couldn't help but smile when she saw him. He stood in the threshold fully dressed in his shorts, tee-shirt and baseball cap, the laces on his running shoes tightly tied and his socks pulled halfway up his leg. He looked ridiculous with his socks like that, but he was eager and excited, his big blue eyes alight with anticipation.

Giving in, she gestured towards the staircase. "Come on."

"Yes!" he exclaimed, giving a dramatic fist pump as he burst past her and reached the stairs first. "Thank you."

Shushing him as they went downstairs, for Jessie was likely to still be sleeping, the two of them emerged into the warm sunlight of Thursday morning. Noting that the weather was set to be pleasant, they did some stretches upon Sam's request and then started their slow jog by heading up the street towards the church. Feeling the way her body moved as the blood began pumping, Carrie immediately began entering her happy place, despite the fact that running inside of the walls was kind of a bore. She would have preferred to jog outside like she usually did, but although the Walkers occasionally proved to be an exciting obstacle, the Wolves out there were less exciting. At the moment they were taking precautions, and that included going outside as little as possible. But despite the bore of jogging inside the walls, Carrie felt her mind relaxing and her body working, and she quickly developed the patience of a saint as Sam started up conversation.

While he chatted incessantly about various things, never seeming to lose his voice or become too exerted, Carrie tuned out as politely as possible. She nodded and occasionally spoke to indicate she was sort of listening, but other than that she paid little attention. For her, exercise wasn't just about keeping fit, and nor was it just about improving her self-defence skills with Michonne and Rosita. This was her time, her opportunity to mentally relax. Sometimes she thought about nothing, her mind going blissfully blank as she pushed herself physically, and other times she would think. There must be something about endorphins that helped her make sense about things, for when she eventually concluded her efforts and revelled in the way her heart pounded, things always felt a little clearer for her.

Weaving in and out of the streets to increase the distance they ran, Carrie and Sam pushed themselves to race up the slight incline out the front of the townhouses, passing by Sasha as she concluded her night shift on watch and returned her rifle to the armoury. Having spent months on night watch, Sasha had adapted her body clock enough that it was less of a burden, and she could always be depended upon to be in the tower between midnight and six o'clock the following morning. Waving to her as they passed, Carrie reminded herself that they needed to catch up, that she ought to drop by the second house for a little while. Moving out of her home didn't mean that she had left her group, but except the occasional chat in passing she hadn't really seen any of them since the previous week.

This was all temporary.

Carrie led Sam past the Infirmary and then down towards the gate, reaching the walls and then continuing clockwise inside them. They passed the side of Natalie and Bob's house and then emerged into the wide green space behind, an area where a great deal of work was happening. Now that the first expansion had concluded and the interior section of the wall had been deconstructed, Abraham and his crew had extra time on their hands, and they were eager to occupy themselves productively while they couldn't go outside. Concrete slabs had been laid for what would soon be some garden and storage sheds, and a large outline of foundations nearby. In a couple of weeks that would be a greenhouse, one where they could cultivate seedlings and grow plants that were too sensitive for the cold Washington weather. Beyond that was the hastily erected chicken coop and horse stable, and as they approached it Carrie knew who she would find there.

Rick too was an early riser, often awake before the sunrise if Judith was being particularly impatient for her breakfast. As soon as she had been fed or someone else took over, Rick would depart to make his rounds and check in with Sasha after the night watch. But with no rounds to make he had found another way to occupy his mornings for the last week. Every morning it was he who tended to the chickens, who let them out to roam free in the community while he checked their food and water. Just as she expected, she saw Rick standing inside the chicken's enclosure with one cradled against his chest, his hand absentmindedly stroking the feathers as he talked to Maggie who was with him.

Sam gasped in delight, seeing the chicken that Rick held. "Can we go see the chickens?" he asked excitedly.

Before she could even fathom his question Sam had changed course and was jogging towards the chicken coop, forcing Carrie to join him. Rick looked up as they approached, and he seemed pleasantly surprised not just to see her, but to see Sam leading the way. Since the day he had told Rick about Pete's stolen gun Sam had avoided him at all costs. With no choice but to make an empty promise, Rick had assured Sam that there would be no unwelcome consequences to him telling the truth, that everything would be fine. The fall out that followed had been difficult on the Anderson's, but on Sam in particular.

"Hey Mr Grimes," Sam panted as he staggered to a stop, pushing his sweaty hair off his face. "Any eggs today?"

Rick looked at Carrie for a moment, his eyes conveying that he was glad to see her, and then he turned back to Sam. "None yet," he shook his head sadly.

On the inside Carrie smiled. The chickens had already produced half a dozen eggs since their arrival…Rick just didn't know it yet.

"Can I pet her?" Sam asked next, coming right over to the fence. "Please?"

"Sure," he agreed, meeting him at the fence. "This is Helga."

"Are we going to eat her?" Sam enquired as he gently stroked her feathers. "Is that why you're taking her away?"

"No. We're just separating her for a little while. She's been picking on Ginger and Patty."

"Oh," he muttered, he and Carrie casting their eyes around the pen where they could see some stray feathers.

"If we take her away, Ginger and Patty can decide who is the top of the pecking order," Maggie explained, taking a break from tidying the coop. "Then Helga can come back."

As Maggie turned towards them properly, Carrie found her eyes automatically drifting down to her belly, observing the way the her shirt was pulled taut against it. Having just reached twenty nine weeks, Maggie's belly was growing more and more, and she was quickly outgrowing her clothes. A run to a baby store had been planned for this month, but given the uncertain state of things involving the Wolves it had been postponed indefinitely. With another ten weeks to go there was no particular urgency for them to make the run, but it had been one they'd all been looking forward to.

Seeing where her gaze lay, Maggie smiled at her and then waved for her to come into the coop. Following her request, Carrie left Sam's side and headed for the gate, opening the latch and rolling her eyes when she saw the name plate _Cluckingham Palace_. She stepped carefully as she entered the coop, gently brushing aside Patty who came over to investigate the new visitor to her home. Looking around at the feathers, straw and grass, she wondered what it was that Maggie needed, and just as she had been about to ask she realised. Without making a big deal of it, Maggie took her hand and then pressed it flat against the curve of her lower belly.

"He's been very active this morning," she said softly, moving Carrie's hand a few inches up towards her navel. "It's a nice feeling, but it's uncomfortable sometimes."

Carrie held her breath as she waited to feel something, making sure her expression didn't waver from one of polite interest. On the inside she was torn, for she was still seething with envy, struggling to genuinely share Maggie's happiness for something she wouldn't allow herself to experience too. Before the outbreak she wanted to have children one day, but now she had resigned herself to the knowledge that it wasn't going to happen for her, that she wasn't prepared to accept the risks and responsibility. But despite that acceptance, she hadn't expected to feel so envious watching someone else experiencing motherhood for the first time. Though she would never wish them ill, sometimes she resented Maggie and Glenn's happiness.

"Sorry," Maggie apologised cheerfully, moving Carrie's hand to a different spot again. "I don't know what he's doing in there, he was moving just as you came into the coop."

Carrie gave a nervous laugh. "Maybe he doesn't like me," she muttered, a little self conscious. It was practically seen as a character flaw for a women to not be good with babies and children, and prior to the outbreak that flaw had been one of her many.

"Don't look, but he's watching you."

In spite of Maggie's instructions, Carrie looked up a little, and from the corner of her eye she could see Rick's attention was indeed on her. Though he was supervising Sam who stroked Helga's feathers he was looking at her as he talked, his expression one of fondness. Even though they were apart right now, their relationship was becoming serious, both of them having indicated that they were in this for the long run. Although it was exactly what Carrie wanted, the possibilities and uncertainty of the future scared her a little, especially when she thought about the mistakes that she was trying so hard not to make again. Her marriage to Logan had been difficult, the two of them engaging in a power struggle from the very beginning. Unlike him, she had been faithful in her marriage, but she had made mistakes too. She'd sneered upon the free ride nepotism had given his career, she'd belittled his success and remembered his failures. It gave no excuse for him to be repeatedly unfaithful, but in hindsight she could see how resentment and pride had driven them away from one another.

"Woah," Carrie muttered in surprise, looking at Maggie's belly as she felt a distinct sensation of movement beneath her palm.

Maggie beamed. "Amazing, isn't it?"

"Yeah," she agreed, completely awed. She held her hand there a little longer, feeling another ripple of movement before things became still again. Taking a proper look at Maggie's belly once again, it suddenly occurred to her that there was really a baby inside, that there was a living being that in a few months would be born. "Maggie, that was great. Thank you."

"No problem," she smiled. She ran her hand over her belly when Carrie took hers away, and then she picked up the rake and resumed her task of sweeping up the chicken poop. "I'm glad he moved for you. You're one of the few people that don't rush over and touch me the moment they see me. I appreciate that," she laughed.

"That must be annoying."

Maggie nodded, giving an exasperated smile. "Tara's planning a baby shower for me. She's thinking August. You'll help her won't you?"

"Of course," she readily agreed, surprised by the way she didn't feel the usual bout of envy. "I'd be glad to."

Glancing back again, she watched as Rick and Sam entered the chicken coop, Helga still held securely in his arms. As Sam chattered away cheerfully, Rick led him into the nesting house and showed him around, and he shared a smile with her as he passed, one she returned. She felt a familiar whooping sensation in the pit of her belly, glad that after everything they'd been through he could still give her butterflies.

"How's he doing?" Carrie quietly asked Maggie, hoping she had some insight. She worried about Rick lately, concerned about how he was holding up through all of the problems he was faced with. Like many men, he put on a great facade and hid how much he was struggling.

"He's doing better this week," Maggie answered, glancing into the nesting house. "Better now that Carl's come home."

"And Carl?" she asked next, concerned about him too. After what had happened the other day with the Wolves who had attacked him, she had been understandably worried about Rick's son.

"He's sticking close to Rick at the moment." With a short sigh Maggie looked around towards the gardens, and then a mischievous glint appeared in her eyes. "But you can ask him yourself if you like."

Alarmed, Carrie followed Maggie's gaze and felt her heart falter when she saw Carl approaching. Carrying a shallow water trough that was filled to the brim, he was walking slowly and carefully, his eyes trained on the ground ahead of himself, and so he hadn't yet looked up and noticed Carrie's presence. As she waited for him to do so she unconsciously held her breath, worried about his reaction to seeing her. The last time they had spoken was a week and a half ago when he found out about her relationship with Rick, the day he had packed his things and moved out. She had done her best to convince him to stay, she'd offered to go in his place, but nothing she did seemed to help. They argued and he left in a temper, slamming the front door on his way out. A lot had happened since then, and she'd been relieved to see that he and Rick had called a truce after he had been attacked by those Wolves. With that in mind, she had made a point of leaving Carl alone, of letting him have time and privacy to settle back in at home and start repairing the relationship with his dad.

She wasn't privy to how he was coping in the aftermath of what had happened with the Wolves, but she knew what had happened, that he'd been attacked and had been forced to use lethal force to protect himself. It gave her greater insight into what Rick was struggling with, to the choice he had made the other day when the two of them checked the safe houses. The tipping point of their problems came when he shot the teenage boy who had been with the Wolves who attacked her, a boy she felt deserved the benefit of the doubt. While she still felt that way, the attack Carl had endured reminded her of what was at stake, that the lives of Rick's children were in danger. It had been a startling reality to confront, forcing her to reevaluate her position on certain matters.

As he approached the chicken coop and opened the gate without looking up, Carl started speaking. "Natalie said we can put Helga out by her porch. There's some shade there, so she…"

He trailed off awkwardly as he looked up and saw Carrie there, startled by her sudden appearance. The water in the small trough sloshed over his hands as he stood there and looked at her blankly, his mouth slightly agape. Feeling the same panic he must be, Carrie glanced over her shoulder as if looking for another exit, only to realise that she was effectively trapped in the chicken coop, cornered. There was no escaping this, not that she would have tried anyway, and so she took a moment to collect herself before looking back at Carl. Was he going to get angry? How did he feel about her these days?

Having averted his gaze too, Carl shifted his weight and then cleared his throat. "Hey," he said politely, looking back at her a moment later.

"Hey," she replied automatically. On the inside she was cringing…this could not be any more awkward.

"Hey," he said again.

Paralysed with discomfort, Carrie looked at Maggie and appealed for help, but the situation only became worse as Rick emerged from the nesting house behind her, stumbling into the situation without warning. The awkward silence stretched on, and very slowly Carrie turned her gaze to him with a pointed expression, silently shouting at him to help her. What was she supposed to say in this situation? What was she supposed to do? Despite claiming that he knew his son well, Rick only flexed his jaw and looked at her apologetically, his eyes indicating that he had nothing.

She turned back and looked at Carl, trying to come up with something. "The wea-"

"Ho-"

Carrie cringed, the two of them speaking at the same time. There was another short pause that passed, the awkwardness palpable. "Sorry. What we-"

"Yeah, sorry," he apologised too. "You go."

"No, it's okay. You go."

Carl shook his head, his cheeks turning pink much like hers. "No. You go…Ladies first."

Nodding, Carrie took a breath as she realised how stupid she was about to sound. "The weather's nice."

Having the decency to look interested, Carl raised his eyebrows and nodded. "Oh. Yeah, it is."

"I-I mean for hunting," she added quickly, having not properly explained. She gestured to his clothing, the tell tale grass stains on his knees indicating that he had been hunting with Daryl. "It's nice weather for hunting."

"Oh," he said, pursing his lips. "Actually, there's bit of a breeze outside the walls. It was kind of cold."

"Oh."

"Yeah."

Gritting her teeth, Carrie turned back to Rick and raised an eyebrow, her expression clearly indicating that he'd better help her, or else. Getting the hint, he cleared his throat and stepped forward a little. "Thanks for fil-"

"Hey, Carl!" Sam cheerfully interrupted, suddenly appearing out of no where. "Cool, is that the water for the chickens?" he asked, rushing forward and looking at the water trough. "How do they drink it? They don't have lips…or tongues."

With no choice but to endure the awkwardness for just a little longer, Carrie waited as Sam made his curious enquiries, Maggie patiently explaining that chickens did indeed have tongues. Unsure of how to handle herself right now, Carrie hovered uncomfortably, though she was grateful Rick was keeping Carl busy to minimise everyone's discomfort. Setting the water trough down he and Rick stepped over the low fence and started heading towards the stable that housed Buttons, their approach slow and unthreatening. Still mistrustful, Buttons bobbed her head and huffed unhappily, using her long tail to swat at insects bothering her. As he and Carl stopped at a distance to admire her, Rick turned and looked over his shoulder at Carrie.

If she knew him at all, he was keen to acclimate Buttons and deliver a healthy foal, to work the mare up to being ridden. Not only was a horse a useful resource these days, it could prove to be a source of great pleasure and enjoyment. She'd heard lots about the horse that had been kept at the prison, the quiet joy Rick got when he rode her around the gardens or occasionally through the woods. Like she, riding horses had been second nature to him growing up, though she got the feeling he had learnt for practical reasons as opposed to social. But just like him, Carrie was looking forward to the prospect of getting Buttons saddled up and taking her for a gentle ride. Perhaps this was something they could bond over, a project and shared interest for the two of them - it hadn't escaped her notice that they didn't really have one aside from Walkers.

"Sam," Carrie began kindly, turning back to him when she heard a hint of weariness entering Maggie's voice. "We should keep going. We don't want to lose our pace, do we?"

Though he was clearly disappointed, Sam bid Helga farewell and then left the chicken coop, remembering only at the last minute to farewell Maggie too. Thanking her, Carrie followed him out and made sure to properly latch the enclosure, and she clapped Sam on the shoulder as they set off at a jog once more. Alternating, they now began going anti-clockwise around the inside of the walls, Carrie intentionally bringing them past the stable where Rick and Carl stood. While Carl waited on the other side of the fence, having not yet earned Buttons' trust, Rick was inside her spacious enclosure, tempting her with a handful of grain.

As they jogged past Carl looked up and noticed them leaving, and Carrie was quite surprised to see his expression falling in disappointment. He made a sudden step towards her, an abrupt movement that startled Buttons and made her turn down the treat on offer, and Carl seemed to swear under his breath. Confused as to his disappointment, for Carrie hadn't gotten the impression he'd been overly pleased to see her, she and Sam continued on their way around the community, and moments later the stable and the Grimes' were out of sight.

"Hey, Carrie," Sam said loudly, barely short of breath. "Is Mr Grimes still your boyfriend?"

She cringed at his question, though she was grateful he had at least waited to voice it in private. She disliked the term _boyfriend_ , not feeling it properly summed up a relationship like her one with Rick. "Yes," she told him honestly. "He's still my boyfriend. And you can call him Rick."

Sam shook his head, still preferring Rick's full name. "So, you still kiss him then?" he asked, teasing her.

She cringed again, remembering a moment from three weeks ago when Sam had caught she and Rick in a rather compromising position on the couch. He had formed a pinky swear pact with Rick to not tell anyone, an occurrence that came moments before he told him of the abuse that was happening at home with his parents.

"Yes," she admitted, feeling that it wasn't inappropriate given what he'd already seen them doing.

Sam dissolved into giggles, embarrassed by the thought. She too sharing his embarrassment, Carrie cheekily sped up her pace and left him behind, laughing loudly as he hastened to catch up with her, protesting her advantage. Soon they were sprinting, Carrie keeping pace with Sam so that he didn't lose interest, and occasionally letting him go ahead of her too. They made two laps of the community, passing Rick, Carl and Maggie each time, their morning run concluding only when Sam tripped over his shoe laces and grazed his knee. While he bravely insisted they carry on, filled with adrenaline and endorphins that encouraged him to continue, the sight of blood dripping down his knee made Carrie's decision for her. She felt terrible for bringing Jessie's son home to her injured, but to her relief Jessie just shook her head in exasperation before getting the first aid kit, kindly reminding Sam to tie his laces properly.

Like every other day had, the morning spent at Jessie's house passed at leisure, Carrie's presence there in the home having deterred Pete from making even a supervised visit. The hours passed, Carrie ignoring all protests and happily chipping in to help with the household chores. The task of dipping a mop into hot, soapy water was surprisingly soothing, and even though her broken wrist slowed her a little she found the task of cleaning the floors rather cathartic. It was satisfying to see smudges and dirty marks on the wooden floors disappearing, her hard work leaving the kitchen, laundry and living areas so perfectly clean. Perhaps that's what annoyed her most about Ron's unexpected visit to his mother.

Though she held it back, Jessie seemed quietly overjoyed that Ron deigned to come home and visit her, trudging his dirty shoes across the floor Carrie had just cleaned. Despite this, Carrie kept her mouth shut and simply retreated upstairs, not trusting herself to keep her expression polite should she share more than basic pleasantries with the teen. Though things were getting better at the moment, she wasn't yet quite charitable enough to forgive Ron for what he had done to Carl. He had taken cruel pleasure in telling Carl about the relationship between she and Rick…it was bad enough what that had done to the relationship, but all the worse given the pain it had caused Carl. So when Ron came home to Jessie that day, Carrie tactfully made herself scarce, unsure of whether or not she could hide the way she felt about the teen.

Thinking of Jessie, who faced her own set of relationship problems right now, Carrie spent the rest of the morning in the guest room, passing the time with the remainder of the book she had borrowed from Rick weeks ago. She read for a few short hours, listening occasionally to the sound of Ron and Jessie talking, to he and Sam hanging out together in his bedroom. A few hours later as she was dressing and preparing to take her afternoon shift on watch, Carrie was interrupted by a polite knock on her door, and she was relieved to find that it was only Jessie.

"Thanks for helping out with the cleaning before," she said sincerely.

Judging by Jessie's polite tone, this was just small talk. She seemed a little uncomfortable, unsure of herself. "It's not problem," Carrie replied sincerely.

Jessie nodded. "You really didn't have to come up here on your own," Jessie added, having noticed her absence.

 _Oh Jessie, I really did_. "It's alright, honestly. You and Ron should spend time together without me hanging around."

Genuinely pleased that Ron had come to visit her, Jessie smiled again, the relief showing in her eyes. Nevertheless it was only there for a moment, her former uncertainty coming back to her with haste. "Carrie, I hate to ask you this," she began, brushing her hair behind her ear. "I know how you feel about him...but would you go to the Infirmary for me, please?"

"Sure," she agreed without hesitation. This was a part of what she was here for, this was what she did to help support her. If Jessie needed her to go to the Infirmary so that she didn't have to, then she would. "What is it you need?"

"I need a bigger bandaid for Sam's knee. The one he's wearing now barely covers the graze."

"It's no problem," she said, folding her knife and slipping it into her pocket. "What size do you need?"

"The three by three inches. They're not in the free supply cupboard though, you'll have to ask Pete directly."

"I don't think I'll have any problems," she assured her with confidence, though she remembered the last time she had gone to Pete for something she needed, the emergency contraception. "I won't let him come over," she added.

Judging by the relief on her face, this too was something Jessie had been concerned about. Not wasting anytime, Carrie slipped out of her bedroom as Jessie thanked her profusely, and as she walked by his room she glanced in at Sam. He and Ron sat side by side playing Jenga, his skinned knee stretched out while the lack of bandaid revealed the size and shape of the wound to be covered. Too enamoured by his brother's company, Sam appeared to notice neither his injury nor Carrie's departure. Though she wasn't yet forgiving of Ron, it was nice to see the brothers hanging out once again.

As she reached the pavement outside Jessie's house she turned to her right out of habit, looking down at the two houses in which her family lived. It was there she found Maggie and Glenn on the porch of the second house, Maggie laid out with her feet in Glenn's lap. Across her forehead was a damp cloth, indicating that perhaps she had over exerted herself that morning. She was supposed to be resting, managing her blood pressure as the dark spectre of preeclampsia loomed over her. Though she was tempted to stop by and ask how she was feeling, Carrie decided against it and continued on, figuring that Maggie didn't need any unnecessary fussing. Glenn typically had all the bases covered, ensuring that his pregnant wife wanted for nothing, except of course peach cheesecake.

When she arrived at the Infirmary she found Michael sitting outside, taking his turn to ensure Pete didn't bother Jessie. Greeting him politely she didn't linger for small talk, aware of the time she had left until taking over from Shelly and Barbara at midday. Not knocking on the open door she let herself in, knowing that if any patient in there needed to be undisturbed Pete would have closed the it. But the moment she crossed the threshold she came to an abrupt stop, surprised to see Carl sitting on one of the beds with Judith on his lap. Just as she started to speak, apologise for interrupting she fell silent, momentarily stupefied by what she saw.

Standing in front of Carl and Judith was Pete, not anything that should alarm her given this was the Infirmary, but Rick was not there. In fact, no one was there except Carl and Judith…they were alone. With his hands clad in white rubber gloves, Pete picked up a small square pack and opened the antibacterial wipe, thoroughly wiping down Judith's outstretched hand. On the trolley beside him were some instruments and a small cardboard box, but she couldn't see what they were. Trying to make sense of it, she looked at Pete blankly, her mouth gaping a little.

"What's going on?" she asked quietly. She came further inside and looked around again, certain that at any moment Rick would make his presence known. Surely someone had to be there with Carl and Judith. Carol or Michonne surely…but there wasn't. At the sound of her voice Pete looked around, appearing surprised to see her there.

"Not to worry, Carrie," he said cheerfully, gesturing to Carl and Judith. "Just a short visit for these two."

"A…a what?" she said in disbelief. She looked at Carl, noting that he looked particularly uncomfortable with the situation. To her surprise, he seemed relieved that she was there, and he bounced Judith on his lap as he looked warily at the items Pete had laid out on the trolley. "Where's your dad?"

"He's, umm…"

"I've just checked on Carl's stitches," Pete cut him off, his cheerful voice a little louder than necessary. "They're healing very nicely, he's taking good care of them."

"He's at home," Carl finished. Apprehensive, he readjusted the way Judith sat on his lap, his arm reaching around her hip to hold her securely. He turned to Pete now. "This will only hurt her a little, right?"

"It's a tiny needle, it's usually the sound of the click that startles kids. She'll forget all about it in a minute or so."

"Wait," Carrie said urgently, her heart leaping into her throat as Pete picked up what looked like a blue pen. He pressed it against Judith's fingertip, and with horror she realised it must be a lancet. "Pete, stop!"

There was an audible click before Judith flinched, surprise and alarm crossing her features as she looked at her finger. Her pink lips gaped for a moment before the corners turned downward, and she then emitted a loud cry. She tearfully looked up at Carl, wondering what had happened to her finger and why he had allowed it. Ignoring Carrie's protest, Pete gently squeezed Judith's fingertip until a drop of blood bloomed. Picking up a small white stick, he used its rounded end to collect the drop of blood. As he began to squeeze a little more blood from Carrie rushed forward in a panic. Her mind hadn't quite caught up to what he was doing, but she knew whatever it was she had to stop him. As Judith wailed in discontent, Carrie roughly smacked Pete's hand away from her, the white stick and lancet clattering across floor.

Judith suddenly fell silent, taken aback by the sudden and unexpected action. In an instant Carl stood up from the bed and backed away, unsure what to make of anything that was happening. The silence was painfully awkward as Carrie and Pete looked at one another, and as she came to a horrifying realisation, she refused to break eye contact. _Rick was right about everything he said, and she had been wrong. She'd been so horribly wrong._

"Who gave you permission?" she demanded, her voice low.

Looking to avoid the conflict, Pete's expression remained professional and friendly. "You don't need to worry, it's just a small needle prick. I'm testing her blood sugar."

She raised her voice this time. "Who gave you permission?"

Pete sighed, looking at her with a wry expression. "I'm her physician, and I'm conducting a normal test. There's nothing to worry about."

Seeing that she wasn't getting anything but bullshit, Carrie spun around to Carl. He looked at her in worry, and it was then she realised he'd been cornered into this situation, the stroller in the corner indicating that Pete had interrupted him taking Judith for a walk. Without any other adult around to support him he'd been unable to refuse Pete's charismatic insistence that he conduct a 'normal test' on his baby sister. Comforting her, he wiped the drops of her blood on his shirt and then kissed her fingertip.

"Go home," she told him abruptly. "Now."

Carl nodded, avoiding eye contact with Pete as he took Judith's duck from the bed and gave it to her. Without a word he carried her on his hip as he grabbed the stroller and left, looking at Carrie over his shoulder before disappearing out onto the porch. There was a short silence now, interrupted only by Michael who had come to the front door in concern.

"Is everything alright?" he asked in concern, not understanding.

Carrie looked at him incredulously. How could he be so stupid to let two children come and see a doctor without their parent, particularly Rick's children? The sheer stupidity almost rendered her mute, for until now she had always considered Michael to be of reasonable intelligence…she thought for sure he at least had common sense. But now was not the time. Right now she had a bigger problem to deal with. "Could you step outside please? Close the door behind you."

Michael looked at Pete before he moved, acting as though his job was to protect him, not supervise. Pete nodded, smiling as he waved Michael towards the door and shook his head wearily. She waited until Michael closed the door before turning to Pete. In exasperated amusement he removed his gloves, and on the pretence of throwing them in the trash he came to stand right in front of her. His great height meant that he towered almost a foot above her, but she was not intimidated in the slightest.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" she demanded angrily. "You can't touch Rick's kids without him here."

Pete sighed dramatically. "It was a simple blood glucose test." Turning away from her, he started picking up the items she had knocked out of his hand and placed them on a separate trolley. "I do one on Maggie twice a week."

Before he could hide it from her, Carrie cast her eyes over what he had, and it was then that she saw his true intentions. Her heart fell into the pit of her stomach when she saw the title on a small set of instructions. _Eldoncard_ _Blood Typing Kit._ In an instant Carrie lunged towards the trolley, successfully snatching the paper in her hand just as Pete too lunged. Almost immediately there was a scuffle, Pete protesting as she next reached for the the little white stick he had used to collect Judith's blood. She got it first and then lunged for the blue lancet that had pricked her, but Pete swiftly grasped her upper arm and wrenched her back.

"Let me go!" she said loudly, refusing to tolerate any kind of touch from him.

When he didn't let go she struggled against him, but she didn't wait before defending herself. With a wide sweeping motion she swung up at his face with her right arm, using her plaster cast to hit him harder than she could with a fist. Pete let out a grunt of pain, immediately releasing her and stepping back. Anger flashed in his eyes, his upper lip curling into a snarl before he very quickly sought to hide his reaction. Though he touched his mouth where she had struck him, he stood there in silence and looked at her. Panting for breath, Carrie clenched the instructions and stick of blood in her left hand, and she stared him down and waited for him to do something.

A few moments passed and then he took a step towards her, and she reacted swiftly. But rather than step back to maintain the distance between them she took a decisive step forward, squaring her shoulders and holding his gaze. In an instant she had come to a realisation, that she had to do something about this…she had to protect Rick's children. He had been right about everything. Pete was a threat, no rational man would do this, no rational man would act like this. Every action was dictated by the grudge he holds against Rick for breaking up his family, and what was what made Pete so dangerous…his behaviour was fuelled by vengeance, not rationality. There was more to this situation than just the threat of revealing Lori and Shane's tryst.

Holding Pete's gaze, Carrie stood her ground and took control of the situation. "What are you going to do?" she asked calmly. "Are you going to hit me?"

Though his mouth twisted in anger, Pete gave no reaction, which only goaded her to challenge him again. She had to do this for Rick.

"I dare you to lay another finger on me. I dare you to lay another finger on those kids."

Again Pete gave no reaction. Carrie took a step towards him, pleased when he stepped back. Slipping the scrunched up instructions and plastic stick into her pocket she exchanged them for her knife instead, making quite a show of revealing it. Satisfied by the way Pete's eyes narrowed when he saw it, she opened the blade and then held it tightly in her left hand.

"I could kill you right now," she stated calmly. Pete seemed to roll his eyes in disdain, his lip beginning to curl into a snarl until she raised the knife and came closer to him. "I could…I will," she said with a little more conviction. "And then…who would believe I did it because I didn't like you?"

Carrie raised the tip of her knife and pressed it underneath his chin as she spoke, enjoying the involuntary reaction he gave. Taking in a sharp breath, Pete's eyes widened as he stepped back from her, his body tensing as he looked down at her warily. This was what she wanted to see. Fear. Anxiety. Regret.

"No one," she answered on his behalf. Not allowing it to break the skin, she held the knife in place as she stepped closer to him again, backing him up against the wall until there was only half a foot of space between them. She taunted him now. "They'd believe you tried to hurt me. They'd definitely believe that."

Holding him there for a few moments more, she applied just enough pressure with the knife to make him tilt his head up, his unsteady breaths indicating how much she had unnerved him. When she was satisfied she swiftly flicked the tip of her knife aside, watching him flinch in preparation for the sting. He relaxed when it didn't come, and his shoulder's slumped when she stepped back a little, but she wasn't done with him yet.

"Come at me." Despite her challenge, Pete remained silent as he stared down his nose at her. "No? Yeah?"

Infuriated with himself, he looked away and clenched his jaw. His hands curled into fists, but a petulant huff indicated he was not going to react. He knew he had met his match, that today she was not someone he could bully like he had the other week.

"No," she concluded.

Thinking about her next move, she stepped back and lowered the knife completely, but she kept it ready at her side. As she looked at Pete and thought about the horrible way he had terrorised his family, and what he was now trying to do to Rick's, she briefly entertained the thought of attacking him after all. She had the opportunity, and it would be all too easy to plunge her knife into his abdomen, using an upward angle so she could inflict enough damage. After that all she had to do was pull him down on top of herself to create her story, perhaps she could even get a few more stabs in too. But even as this scene played in her mind's eye, Carrie knew she couldn't do it. Not just because that wasn't who she was, but because of the one reason that had kept Rick from doing it. Maggie.

No matter what problems she and Rick were working through, Carrie had been right about one thing all along, and that was Pete's essentiality to Alexandria. There was simply no arguing the fact that they needed him, and with that in mind she changed tact now. If there was ever going to be some semblance of peace, certain people had to learn how to co-exist in one another's space. Threatening and intimidating one another was not going to enable that.

"The way this has played out, you have a chance," she began explaining, softening her tone of voice. "You're here, your wife is there. It's time for you to swallow your pride, to accept what's happened and get on with things. If you don't, then the people working to keep you alive will stop. Play your cards right, and maybe you don't have to die."

Pete's lips twisted into a snarl, his fury evident in his narrowed eyes. "Play my cards right?" he questioned softly. "I've got the god damned Ace!" he suddenly shouted, trying to intimidate her again. "I've got this place. What about that, huh?"

Though she was disappointed he wasn't willing to accept her advice, she was unperturbed by his outburst. With greater control than she had ever shown, she took a step back towards him, invading his personal space to return him to his former mode of submission. It worked in an instant, for seeing she was unconcerned by his abuse and knowing that he couldn't physically attack her, Pete had nothing else to come at her with.

She held his gaze as she started speaking. "You're a small, weak, nothing. And with the world how it is, you're even weaker."

"Who do you think you are?" he growled at her, getting fired up again. "You co-"

She cut him off, and the same words Rick said to her the other day fell from her mouth without thinking. "I am exactly who I need to be." Driving her next point home, she pressed the tip of her knife against his lower stomach. "What you should be asking, is who I'll become if you fuck with Rick's children again," she snarled, making her threat clear. "Because if you do, he won't be your only problem."

Holding him there a moment longer, she waited to see if he would challenge her again, if he would say or do anything else. Given his unwillingness to take her advice, she begged him to give her a reason to hurt him. She'd compromise her morality for him, for Rick. This was personal…she understood that now, and Pete would not be reasoned with. Satisfied he was done, Carrie took her knife back and closed it, holding his gaze as she slipped it into her pocket. Turning away and heading for the front door, she smiled to herself grimly, pleased with how she had handled herself. She had to find Rick straight away, he needed to know what had happened, or at least what had almost happened.

"Carrie," Pete called to her as she reached the front door.

Tolerating him, for of course he waited until she had put her knife away, she opened the door and then looked at him over her shoulder. He stood in the middle of the Infirmary, his mouth set into a grim line and his eyes narrowed at her, looking particularly unhappy with how the situation had turned out.

"Just be careful. I might have to make a house call for you one day."

A chill swept through her at this, for there was no other way to perceive this than as a threat, but she didn't let it show. Allowing him to have the satisfaction of the last word she chose not to respond, and instead held her head high as she left, satisfied with the way it had concluded. With her next task of finding Rick in mind she headed out onto the street, figuring that Shelly and Barbara would simply have to wait a little longer for her to take over their shift on watch. As she set off towards Rick's house and hoped he was there, she remembered why she had gone to the Infirmary in the first place.

She forgot the damn band aid.

* * *

A/N Sorry about not posting last week, the January season got to me and held me up significantly!

I hope you enjoyed my little twist on 5x16, I definitely felt Carrie needed and deserved a bad-ass moment where she protected Rick and his family! I think you guys will also greatly enjoy the next chapter!


	48. Chapter 48

The scuffle began almost without a sound.

Standing out on the dark porch, Rick counted the seconds in his head, and the fuss concluded in less than twenty seconds. Pleased by how well his group had achieved the first and most difficult part of tonight's plans, he listened attentively to the quiet murmur of voices, to Daryl's low voice as he made a threat he was willing to carry out. Suddenly there was a loud ripping sound from the roll of duct tape, the noise permeating through the darkness. It sounded louder than it was, and it made Rick's heart speed up a little, but it was a necessity. A low moan came from inside, but it was swiftly halted when Daryl repeated his threat, and then silence resumed. The duct tape ripped again, and he pictured it going around and around the wrists and ankles of their victim.

He corrected this last thought…victim wasn't exactly a suitable term for this asshole.

Waiting patiently, he looked around the community of Alexandria, bracing himself to see a light illuminating a window, for an indication that they had been caught. But as he expected, none came. Even in their sleep, the people here avoided the reality of what was going on both outside and inside their walls. A minute passed in silence and then Daryl suddenly appeared in the open doorway, his light footsteps unheard. Without a word he jerked his head and gestured inside. One by one those waiting out on the porch filed through the front door, but Rick waited a little so that he was last. Only when the others were inside and ready did he enter. Receiving a short nod from Daryl that indicated everything had gone to plan, he closed the door behind himself and then went further inside, immensely pleased by what he saw.

Pete's eyes were wide with startled fright, drawing heavy and laboured breaths through his nose as he looked back and forth among his attackers. He sat in an office chair with his hands and feet securely bound, rubbing his jaw against his shoulder attempting to remove the long strip of duct tape covering his mouth. Completely helpless, his terror was evident, and surely he knew this was the inevitable consequences that he had been inviting all along. As Rick came forward Pete's eyes widened even more, but he ceased all unnecessary movement as if trying to avoid a snake in the woods. He stopped trying to remove the tape on his mouth, and his flimsy attempts to loosen the duct tape around his wrists faded.

Without uttering a word Rick turned away from him, heading into the makeshift dining room and collecting himself a chair. He set it down in front of Pete and then sat, relaxing into the back rest and observing him at leisure. A few moments passed in silence, Pete's breathing coming in short pants as he looked among the people who had wrenched him from his bed in the middle of the night. There with Rick was Daryl and Abraham who had handled the initial scuffle and restraints, as well as Michonne, Carol, Sasha, Rosita, Glenn and Maggie, all of them forming a circle with Pete stuck in the middle. Looking him in the eye, Rick cast his mind back to the events of that day that triggered the current situation.

The day before had been perfectly normal until Carl took his sister for a walk, a last minute promise to her he upheld before he would have to do some chores. Under the assumption that his children were safe enough to roam the community without fear of harassment, Rick had let them go without question, Carl and Judith departing while he retired to the garage where he was watching the security cameras. Until their return ten minutes later Rick's biggest problem had been the Wolves, who he had seen no trace of since Carl's attack five days ago.

When they returned Rick could hear Judith fussing the moment she and Carl came through the front door, a low whine indicating she was unhappy about something. Knowing that Carl could handle whatever it was, Rick didn't get up and go to them, not wanting to miss anything he might see on the cameras. But Carl came straight to the garage, carrying Judith as he tried to comfort her.

"What's wrong?" Rick asked, seeing the troubled expression on his son's face. He looked at his daughter, surprised to see her eyes were red and her cheeks tear stained. "You weren't very long."

"Ummm…" Carl began, certainly sounding troubled. He came into the garage and held Judith out, letting Rick take her onto his lap. "Look, don't get mad, okay?"

Rick narrowed his eyes. "Did she fall out of the stroller because you were rough housing it? I told you to strap her in if-"

"No, it wasn't that. Pete asked to see us. He wanted to check my stitches, so…I let him."

A chill went down Rick's spine at these words, and he sat up straight in his chair. "Who went with you?"

Carl hesitated. "No one." Realising that Rick was unhappy, he hastened to explain. "He just wanted to look at my arm, and I told him you'd be annoyed if we didn't wait for you. But he kept insisting…he said you wouldn't mind."

"So what happened?" he asked urgently, standing up as he starting imagining everything that Pete might have told him. Hearing Judith sniffling unhappily he looked down at her in search of the reason, frowning when he saw she was sucking on her fingers instead of her thumb. Pulling them out of her mouth he wiped them on his shirt and looked, his face falling when he saw the tip of her index.

"He said he needed to test her blood sugar," Carl said quietly, explaining the redness. "I didn't want him to, I told him to wait for you, but he already had everything out. He just kept saying that it would be alright, that you wouldn't mind."

Still looking at Judith's finger, Rick braced himself for what Carl said next, praying that Pete hadn't told him anything yet. He knew they had blood type testing kits kept in the Infirmary, that they always had. Despite his disapproval, he couldn't deny that they were a necessity, that if someone was seriously injured and they needed a transfusion, the kits would be life saving. The possibility that Pete would want to use one on Judith had crossed Rick's mind, but he never anticipated that he would ever get the opportunity, that anyone of his group would give permission for him to take a blood sample. But once again he had underestimated Pete, believing that Carl could take a simply walk inside the walls without being taken advantage of. Once again, Rick had failed his children.

"Carl," he began hesitantly, hoping to gauge what Pete had told him.

"Has she got diabetes?" he asked urgently, his features contorted in worry. "Because if she needs insulin, won't she die?"

"What did Pete say?"

Carl paused, putting his hands into his pockets and shifting his weight between his feet. "Nothing…Carrie turned up and got really mad at him."

Rick's heart lurched. "Carrie? She spoke to him?"

"Well, no. She got really angry, and she yelled. She wouldn't let him do the test. To be honest, I'm glad she was there…I knew I should have made Pete wait for you to come."

"Is she still there? She's alone with Pete?"

"I think so."

Rick swore under his breath, knowing that this couldn't mean anything good. He glanced at the police laptop, the one with the surveillance program that allowed him to listen in on the Infirmary. That would be a discreet way to determine what was going on in the Infirmary, but there was no time to spare, not if Carrie was there alone…he would have to go to her, immediately.

"Take her," Rick said abruptly, handing over Judith and then quickly leaving the garage. "I'm going to the Infirmary, I want you to stay here."

"Dad, did I do something wrong?" Carl asked as he followed him out, sounding upset. "I tried to tell him no, but he just kept insisting."

"Just stay at home."

Urgency compelled him to leave without a sufficient explanation, and for now Carl would have to wait. His mind filled with panicked thoughts about what might be happening at the Infirmary, of the harm Pete could inflict on Carrie if he wished, Rick set off at a run, determined to get to her instantly. But he barely made it past the second house before he was able to breathe a sigh of relief, adrenaline receding as he saw Carrie exiting the Infirmary alone and unhurt. She saw him too, sharing his relief as they met in the middle of the street. Rushing to explain, she got straight to the most important part.

"I got there just before he pricked her," she explained, looking at the Infirmary over her shoulder. "I'm sorry. I tried to stop him, but he got her blood before I could."

"Does he still have any?"

Carrie shook her head and then produced a blue pen and small white stick smeared with red. "I managed to grab them. This is all he drew, just a few drops."

Overcome with relief, Rick silently took them from her and slipped them into his pocket, intending to dispose of them himself. "Thank you," he said, his tone conveying the weight of his gratitude. Carrie knew what was at stake here, how important maintaining Lori's secret was to him. "Are you alright?" he asked in concern.

She nodded. "Yes."

"Why were you going to the Infirmary in the first place?" he asked cautiously, not wanting to pry uninvited.

"I was getting something for Jessie," she explained. "I figured better me than her."

In spite of what had just happened, hearing Carrie refer to home and knowing she meant the house he occupied, Rick felt a small moment of joy before reality set in again. Though the feeling was only fleeting, it was enough to energise him, to remind him that everything was going to be alright. As this reassurance set in he looked towards the Infirmary, half expecting to see Pete's face in the window, to see him looking out to gloat, to mess with him again. When there was no sign of this he and Carrie went separate ways, Rick thanking her once again, confident that she understood his gratitude. He knew exactly what he needed to do now, and after telling Carl he could skip school, he soon found the time to slip away and listen to the recording from the Infirmary's bug.

Having learnt how to handle Pete in the aftermath of the way he treated her when she needed emergency contraception, Carrie took control of the situation very quickly. As he listened to the recording Rick imagined the scene playing out in his mind's eye, picturing Carrie as she confronted him, tearing him down with only her words. Everything she said was exactly what he needed to hear, subtle reminders that although he was the doctor here, he wasn't immune to the consequences of his arrogance. She had challenged him, daring him to hurt her and warning him not to lay another hand on Rick's children.

"I am exactly who I need to be," Carrie had told him, repeating the very words Rick said to her a week ago. "What you should be asking, is who I'll become if you fuck with Rick's children again."

Since he'd known her he'd had many moments of pride for her, knowing that she was a woman of character and strength, that at the end of the day she could look after herself. But he'd never been prouder than when listening to her defending his children and threatening Pete…he'd never loved her more. For all her talk about not being able to support him when he needed her to, she had come through at the right time, she had done exactly what he needed. She protected both of his children from the painful truth Pete was trying to reveal, and she'd put him back in his place at the same time. No matter what their fears for their relationship were, it was clear that they were getting closer and closer to understanding one another.

Later that night when Carl and Judith were both sleeping, Rick filled Carol and Daryl in on what had happened, relieved that they seemed to share his concerns. That night when they finished listening to the recording, Daryl sat back in his chair with a low whistle, apparently impressed. "Here I thought it was the red heads yah had to be careful of," he said gruffly.

Carol nodded in agreement. "I knew she had some fight in her, that she doesn't take much shit from _you_ ," she mused out loud, looking at Rick. "But that was something else."

Sitting quietly, Rick carefully pondered his options, wondering what the best course of action would be. This wasn't something he could let go for the sake of keeping the peace. Pete kept escalating again and again, and Rick was constantly on the back foot, always on the defensive. Today he'd gone a step too far. He'd drawn Judith's blood…he threatened Carrie and violently put his hands on her. This had been the final straw, the indication that he could no longer allow Pete to maintain the upper hand. While he had accepted that for Maggie and the sake of her baby he couldn't kill Pete, that didn't mean he had to roll over and submit. He still had power here, he just wasn't exercising it the way he should be.

Driven to breaking point, Rick knew he had to take an offensive approach from now on, which was what brought he and Pete to where they were now. There was a heavy silence, and as the magnitude of the situation sunk in Pete took a shuddering breath and then cast his eyes up to the ceiling.

"Ron's fast asleep," Daryl started lowly, he too pulling up a chair. He turned it around and straddled it, his elbows leaning over the back rest. "He had a midnight snack about one thirty, then he's been sleeping with his iPod. Looks comfy, don't he Abraham?"

"Mighty comfy. One leg out of the covers, one leg under."

"He's snorin' though," Daryl added. "You gotta get your boy a better pillow. He needs proper neck support."

His eyes wide with confusion, Pete looked between the two of them, trying to figure out their end game, why they were doing this to him. Waiting patiently, Rick watched as he mulled things over and then looked back to him, slowly coming to a realisation. Pete was about to reap what he had sown, and he didn't look at all ready for it.

"I brought the whole brigade with me," Rick finally began, his voice soft and level. He didn't need aggression or volume to make his point heard tonight, for he had Pete's undivided attention. "I wanted you to see how many enemies you've made, for you to understand the magnitude of what you're facing."

Abraham moved to stand behind Pete's chair, and he unfolded his arms as he leant down to his level. "You're about to be neck deep in Shit Creek with your mouth wide open," he warned, gesturing to Rick. "You ready for that? It's coming."

Pete's nostrils flared as he huffed loudly, his eyes narrowed as he looked at Rick. Even completely restrained and mute, he was still trying to intimidate him. Reaching forward, Rick took the seat of Pete's chair and rolled him closer, the two men now sitting knee to knee.

"Fortunately for you, I'm going to have to make this quick, so I'll list your mistakes for you. Are you ready?" He waited for Pete to acknowledge this, and when he didn't Rick leant forward, invading his personal space. "I need you to nod your head, because I'm only saying this once."

Pete's eyes darted around to everyone else, looking at them urgently, hoping to gauge who was there in spirit, and who was there reluctantly. But upon finding no one who would give him any kind of support, he seemed to slowly accept the situation. Though he seemed particularly unhappy about it, Pete looked Rick in the eye and slowly nodded. Satisfied with him, Rick sat up and began.

"Your first mistake was a month ago, the day you came into my home and began threatening my children. You've betrayed your wife's trust by abusing her, by abusing her children." When Pete gave no response, Rick continued. "You stole guns from me, you tried to kill me. You harassed Carrie, and then you manipulated your son into telling Carl about my relationship." Pausing for a moment, Rick strummed his fingers along the handle of his Colt, continuing only when he saw Pete glance at it. "You can't seem to help yourself, can you?"

Finally responding, Pete began using his shoulder to rub at the edge of the duct tape on his mouth, wanting to speak. Though mildly exasperated, Rick was confident that for once he had the upper hand.

"I called your bluff once. I thought I'd have enough time to tell Carl about my relationship. I didn't think you'd follow through with your threat, but you did. You fooled me."

"Fool me once, shame on you," Daryl said lowly. "Fool me twice…"

"…shame on me," Rick concluded, tilting his head. "I should be ashamed of myself…I am. You keep making a fool of me, and I keep letting you. But no more, Pete."

He started shaking his head again, grunting as he tried to talk around the duct tape. It sounded like a denial…dare he even think it might be an apology?

"Do you deny that you've made a fool of me?"

Pete nodded, possibly trying to placate him, to limit the damage he himself had caused, but it made no difference. Rick knew he had been made a fool of, and that he had been the one to allow it.

"You're being too kind there," he smiled. "Because you _have_ made a fool of me. I actually believed that my children were safe here, that they could take a walk together without you taking advantage. You're threatening them again, but this time I won't be calling your bluff…I won't be made a fool again. Let's talk about what happened yesterday."

Shaking his head, Pete grunted at him urgently, flexing his fingers as he tried to get Rick's attention, to make him remove the duct tape.

"You took advantage of my son. You lured him here alone, and then you drew my daughter's blood without my permission."

With a long breath Pete shook his head, jerking it towards one of the cabinets that held medical supplies. When Rick didn't respond he grunted at him impatiently, using his fingers to point.

"Don't feed me bullshit, you couldn't care less about her blood sugar."

"Ain't all yah did though, eh?" Daryl piped up. "You put yah hands on Carrie, right?"

"Yes, you did," Rick said when Pete went quiet, unable to deny this. "She tried to stop you and then you put your hands on her…you threatened her." Resting his hands on his knees Rick leant forward again. "I honestly don't know why I keep playing this game with you…like I said, you're making a fool of me."

"You're also making a lot of enemies," Carol piped up. "How many can you afford to take on given your difficult position?"

Pete blinked at her, making a sound of confusion in the back of his throat.

"Your position is that there's only one reason you're alive right now," Rick explained. There was a brief pause until Pete's eyes darted over to Maggie, making him glad he had caught on so quickly. "Maggie and her baby are the only reason I haven't put a bullet in your head. They are your only salvation, the only card in your hand. Do you understand?"

Pete looked back at him in alarm, shaking his head and grunting, indicating that he wanted to say something, but Rick was unwilling. Instead he shook his head, but when Pete didn't shut up he swiftly kicked the front of his left shin, revelling in the moan of discomfort he made. He wasn't one who normally enjoyed another's pain, who used it as a method to get what he wanted, but he was willing to make an exception now. Getting the hint, Pete fell silent as his shoulders slumped. He squirmed in the chair, trying to move his leg to relieve the ache, but they were secured around the base of the office chair.

"Let's talk about what's going to happen now. Carrie made her warning pretty clear to you, but allow me to reinforce it," he said calmly, still keeping his voice low and even. "Don't fuck around with my family, or I will end you."

Shaking his head again, Pete grunted at him. He was playing dumb, trying to plead ignorance.

"You want me to let you go home. You want to play happy families with your wife and kids, for all of us to pretend that what you did to them never happened, and you're using leverage to achieve that. I won't pretend. You have a lot of leverage over me, the type that keeps me up at night. But there's one thing you need to consider when you threaten someone the way you've threatened me." When Pete looked away, Rick grabbed him by the jaw and pulled his face back, and he waited until Pete looked him in the eye. "If your leverage is powerful enough to make someone do what you want, then what else will it make them do?"

There was a long pause now, Pete's eyes wide as he looked him in the eye, clearly uncomfortable with where this was all going. Holding his gaze, Rick let him wallow in this question, glad to see that he had struck a nerve. Pete was worried now…he was afraid.

"What else will this make you do, Rick?" Abraham asked lightly, placing his hand on Pete's shoulder and squeezing.

Releasing his jaw, Rick leant back again. "It won't make me kill you outright. My reputation would never recover from that, people here would never trust me again. So I'll make you disappear," he stated softly. "You'll vanish. Your sons will think you abandoned them, and Jessie will pray you don't come back. Then in a few months when we clean out those sewers, we'll find your corpse down there with all of the others. Everyone will think you were running away like the coward you are, and so will your sons."

Pete's face was contorted with emotion, making it difficult to distinguish what he was really feeling, but Rick could hazard a guess. He was coming to realise that he had taken on too much, that he was screwing with someone more powerful and more motivated than himself. Anger and resentment easily fuelled a grudge, but the desire to protect one's children was even stronger…Rick was determined to win, determined to make Pete submit to him. Satisfied that he had said enough for now, he reached forward and scratched at the corner of the duct tape on Pete's cheek, and he dragged it off his face. The temptation to do it quickly and painfully was almost too difficult to resist, but he couldn't risk Pete making too much involuntary noise. In spite of the risk, for some reason Rick trusted him to not scream or call out to Ron…Pete was far too proud to call to his son for help. Grimacing as the tape came off, Pete drew a deep breath and then licked his lips, shuddering as he tasted the residual glue. Now that the tape was gone, Rick could see the green bruise on the right side of his mouth, the spot where Carrie had hit him with her plaster cast.

Giving him a few moments to collect himself, Rick watched as Pete gratefully took some breaths and looked around, sniffling loudly. Finally he cleared his throat and sat up a little straighter as he looked Rick in the eye. "You've lost the element of surprise there," he commented, his voice a little hoarse until he cleared his throat again.

"We don't need it."

Sniffling again, Pete glared at each person in turn. "You can't kill me," he tried to gloat. "You said so yourself, Maggie and the baby need me. Denise can't take care of them like I can. She wouldn't know the first thing about how to prevent early labour, or what to do if the placenta didn't detach."

"Maggie?" Rick prompted, looking around at her.

With her hands resting on her swollen belly, she and Glenn came forward a little. "He has my blessing to handle you as he sees fit. Woman have given birth without doctors for thousands of years."

"And the mortality rate?" he argued angrily, looking at Glenn. "You want her to die? You want your baby to die?"

"It's a risk we're already taking," he replied. "With or without you."

"The idea of doing away with someone who could help does seem like a waste, but Rick has our blessing," Maggie concluded.

Pete shook his head angrily, his jaw clenched as he appealed to Glenn again. "What are you going to do if her blood pressure starts rising? Who's going to intubate your baby's premature lungs if she delivers early?"

Glenn was grimly determined. "We know the risks were taking."

Satisfied they had said enough, Rick turned the attention back to himself and spoke again. "Do you understand now, Pete? When you threaten my children, you extend that threat to my entire group. And right now, it doesn't seem you have many friends in this place. Am I wrong?"

Pete didn't say anything, unable to refute that.

"Now that you understand that, I'm going to remind you of the ground rules. You don't have any contact with Jessie or Sam except through Carol. No exceptions," he added when Pete started to protest. "Sam's made it very clear he only wants to see you on his terms. As for Ron, he's old enough to do what he likes. But if he's caught bringing you alcohol again, you are the one who will pay for it. Understand?"

Glaring at him, Pete continued to remain silent.

"As for Carl, Judith and Carrie, you have zero contact with them. You even look at them wrong, and I won't hesitate to come down on you."

Finally Pete reacted, scoffing at this. "Right, of course…until they need me for something. Then you'll be knocking on my front door, begging me to help them."

"Then you best pray that doesn't happen. Because if I bring them to you, then they're in serious danger, and if you can't help them I have any use for you. Do you understand that?"

Pete just laughed under his breath, looking at Rosita and shrugging his shoulders. "They always come back, I told you. Once you have skills they can't get rid of you." He turned back to Rick again, still gloating. "You should be thanking me on your knees. I saved Tara's life, I made sure Carrie doesn't have a scar on her face - same with Carl! If it weren't for me, he'd have a six inch scar on his arm for the rest of his life!"

"Yes, you did. You did all of that. Don't you see? If you're useful to me, you get to live," he stated simply. "The moment you start being a problem again, I'm done with you. This is your chance Pete…start fresh. Didn't you listen to what Carrie told you this afternoon?"

"That stupid bitch?" he growled, beginning to lose his temper. "If she com-"

"You have a chance now," Rick cut him off, not wanting his voice to carry upstairs to Ron's bedroom. "You can start fresh. Make the best of what you're left with, and you can live a comfortable life here in Alexandria. You can even win back Sam's trust if you just try."

"But you'll never let me go back, will you!" Pete accused, his voice a sharp hiss. "You'll never let Jessie forgive me. You've convinced her I'm a monster, that-"

Rick gestured to Abraham for the roll of duct tape. Incensed, Pete began swearing at them, his voice getting loud until Daryl grabbed his jaw and held it closed while Abraham placed the tape across his mouth. His words became muffled grunts, his cheeks going red with anger and frustration. A full minute passed as Pete slowly calmed down, relenting when he got no further reaction from Rick or the others. As silence resumed the group basked in it, Rick holding Pete's gaze has he thought. Thankfully Carol made the next move, sensing the progression that needed to be made. Without a word she turned on her heel and left, her departure prompting the others to follow suit, Glenn, Maggie, Rosita and Sasha departing too.

Left alone with only Rick, Daryl and Abraham, Pete's eyes began to fill with panic. Fear set in as he anticipated what might happen next. Jerking his arms around he tried to loosen the duct tape around them, grunting pathetically as he tried to get Rick's attention, to reason with him. Though he didn't speak, Rick did give him a response in the form of another kick to the shin, making sure he got the same place as before. Whimpering in pain, Pete's shoulders slumped as he slowly quietened, genuine fear written all over his face. When the door closed and silence resumed he gave a low moan, looking at Rick.

"Now what?" Darryl asked, taunting Pete.

Using silence to intimidate, Rick sat quietly for a few moments, pretending to mull over his options. He could imagine what Pete was thinking, that he had gone too far and was about to suffer the consequences, and so Rick let him stay with these thoughts for a short while. Moving closer and invading his personal space, he raised his hand and pressed his fingers against the left side of Pete's neck. He could feel the steady throb of the artery, satisfied by how quickly it pulsed.

"Have you ever tasted blood?" he asked softly. "I'm not talking about from a cut on your finger, I'm talking about this blood." Forming his fingers into a circle, he pressed them against Pete's artery. "I once bit a man right here. Maybe it was adrenaline, but it was easier than I expected. What I wasn't expecting was a mouthful of blood…I didn't expect it to be so warm either, or so thick. Even now I can still taste it. I can still feel the way it surged."

Pete's eyes were wide with fear and disgust, his chest heaving as he drew breath through his nostrils. He was doing all he could to pull away from Rick, but there was only so far he could go, and so his shoulders hunched defensively, trying to protect his neck.

"It made a fucking mess too, I should have been expecting that though. But it was effective," he added. "He barely even made a sound…and then it was over. Luckily for you, I'm not up for that again. I have no desire to have your filthy blood in my mouth," he snarled lowly, taking his hand off Pete's neck. "Besides, your death can't look like murder."

"It's gotta be an accident, or stupidity," Daryl piped up.

"I like stupidity," Abraham added. "The boot fits."

Leaning closer again, Rick delivered his final warning. "I can't leave evidence, and I'll need an alibi too. So when the last thing you see is one of my people's face looming over you as you pass out, I want you to know that I sent them. I want you to know that you brought this on yourself."

Growling at him, Pete narrowed his eyes and thrashed in his restraints, his struggle making the chair roll a little. Warning him to settle, Rick waited until he seemed silent and cooperative, and only then did he remove the duct tape a little to let him speak.

"You're going to have your goons choke me out?" Pete questioned boldly, gesturing down to himself. "Me?"

"We're more than capable…and more than willin'," Daryl assured him.

When Pete held his gaze expectantly, Rick dignified him with an answer. "I'll be feeding you to the Walkers in the sewer. Whether that happens alive or dead is up to you. Otherwise I think we're being rather kind about this."

Letting out a bitter chuckle, Pete screwed his face up and looked around in exasperation. "No, no, no," he muttered to himself, his jaw clenched. "No."

Rick raised his eyebrows in surprise. "No?"

"No!" Pete growled lowly, his upper lip curling. "You have everything that you've taken away from me. You have respect, dignity, your children…your woman," he added lowly. "I won't let you have yours if I can't have mine. I won't let you have them, you - n-no!"

As the volume of Pete's voice began to escalate Daryl lost his temper, angrily brushing Abraham aside as he moved behind Pete. In an instant he wound his arm around Pete's neck and squeezed tightly, and the restraints on his arms meant he was unable to defend himself. Grunting and spluttering, he thrashed against the arm around his neck, his movements making the office chair roll back a little. Helping, Rick put his hands on Pete's knees and held the chair steady, watching in satisfaction as Pete's face turned red and his eyes began to roll back in his skull. He watched and waited, wondering what Daryl's intentions were, if he was going to let up once Pete passed out or go through with killing him. As the seconds slipped by and Pete's struggles began to ease, Rick found he didn't mind what the result was. Either they'd be dumping hid body down the sewer to turn, or they'd let him live with another chance. Despite Pete's threat, he was certain that the message had been received. It was natural for Pete to want the last word, to have one last opportunity to assert himself before he submitted to another man's will.

As Pete became still, Daryl seemed to let out a long, slow breath before relaxing his arm. A few moments passed before he released Pete's neck completely, and when he roughly slapped his cheek Rick knew that he was still alive. Despite everything, Daryl was giving him another chance…choking him had been a warning, a taste of what he was in for if he didn't submit to the ultimatum. Daryl slapped Pete's cheek again and then twisted his ear lobe, but when they saw his chest shuddering he left him alone.

Weary, Daryl slumped back into the chair beside Rick, his hands completely steady. "That felt better than it ought'a," he muttered, shaking his hair out of his eyes.

Agreeing with him, Rick waited patiently for Pete to come back around, watching as his eyes flickered open a minute later. When he regained his breath and raised his head, Abraham tore off another length of duct tape and held it, ready to apply it the moment Pete started raising his voice. Until then however, they would let him speak, would let him breathe as he came back around. Shuddering, Pete blinked as he looked around, and he cringed when his eyes fell on Rick. He looked away and swallowed heavily.

"Do you remember where you are?" Rick asked patiently.

A long moment passed in silence, Pete still avoiding eye contact. With his eyes focused on the hospital bed to his right he nodded slowly.

"Do you remember what we were talking about?" he asked next, continuing when Pete nodded again. "Do you have anything else to add? Anything else to say?"

Pete's jaw trembled as he took a shuddering breath, tears spilling from the corner of his eyes. Finally he shook his head negatively.

"Look at me," Rick instructed, repeating this until Pete did. "Do you understand what has to happen next, or would you like me to repeat it?"

Swallowing heavily, Pete cleared his throat and then softly answered. "I understand," he whispered.

"Tell me what you understand."

"Don't talk to my wife, or Sam. Don't talk to Carl, Judith or Carrie."

"What else?"

"Behave myself."

"Meaning what?" Rick asked impatiently, determined that he would vocalise everything.

"No alcohol. Do my job properly. Play nice with Denise…don't look for trouble."

"Don't _create_ trouble," Rick specified. "What else?" Pete faltered now, unsure of what Rick wanted to hear next, and so he prompted him. "Maggie."

Pete nodded quickly. "Look after her and the baby."

"I don't care if it's nature or an act of God, anything happens to her or that baby, I'll put you down with all the grace and dignity of a problem dog."

Understanding, Pete nodded again. "Look after Maggie," he repeated.

"What else?"

"I…I don't know…"

"Ron," Rick said firmly. "What goes for you, goes for him too. I know he has more than a small grudge against Carl, and I know you told him about Judith. He needs to keep his mouth shut and his behaviour in check, or you and I are going to have problems again. Do you understand?"

Pete nodded. "I'll keep him in line. You have my word."

Rick had no confidence in Pete's word, knowing that it was only his fear of the consequences that would influence his good behaviour from now on. Nevertheless he accepted it on face value, and then let a few short moments pass in silence. Satisfied that he had said all he needed to, he shared a quick glance with Daryl and Abraham before taking out his pocket knife. Pete tensed as Rick brought it towards him, but relaxed a moment later when he swiftly cut the duct tape that bound him to the chair, starting first with his ankles and then his wrists.

Having released him, Rick stood up and then backed away, keeping the knife ready by his side, just in case. His jaw shaking, Pete twisted his wrists and pulled them from the loose duct tape, flinching as it pulled on his skin. Slowly freeing himself, he hesitated before glancing up at Daryl and Abraham, seeking their permission to get up. With his cooperation assured, Rick and Daryl shared a brief glance that spoke wonders, and with nothing else to say Rick turned on his heel and headed for the door. Leaving them to take Pete back to his bedroom, he emerged into the cool, dark night and breathed a mental sigh of relief.

It had gone as well as any of them could expect. There had been no bloodshed, no actions Rick felt were too drastic. His group's message had been delivered loud and clear, and Pete understood his conditions and consequences. He lingered for a moment only to ensure that Pete wasn't causing problems, and then he departed for home.

* * *

The first three hours of Carrie's shift on watch passed at a comfortable pace, though her position on the north post giving her a rather bleak view of the abandoned houses behind Alexandria's northern walls. Despite this, from here she could watch over not just the outside world, but the community she called home too. With a more pleasant view of the lake and some streets she could watch Alexandria as it slowly came to life that morning, the residents awakening and emerging from their houses. Taking a short mental break she looked over her shoulder, listening to the sound of the industrial mixer running near the church. Though the supply run for the main elements had been delayed, the foundations were being laid for a children's playground nearby the church. These days it was getting harder and harder to keep the kids entertained, and apparently the small swing set and sand box behind Barbara's house was no longer enough.

As Hayley and Courtney skipped hand in hand past the intersection, hastily followed by Betsey and Errin who were no doubt accompanying them to visit Buttons, Carrie noticed another person in her peripherals, and her heart sped up a little when she recognised them. Rick was slowly making his way up the road behind the houses, but judging by his casual air he wasn't doing his rounds. As she watched him come closer she self consciously straightened up a little, slowly beginning to realise that he was coming directly towards her. He looked up at her as he walked, making eye contact and holding it before the slight nod of his head served as a greeting. Feeling unexpectedly nervous, Carrie resumed her seat on the stool and cast her eyes over the abandoned houses she was meant to be watching over.

It was odd to feel nervous around him, and so she took a deep breath before turning to look at him again, giving him a pleasant smile as he came to the foot of the tower and began climbing the ladder. As he reached the top he set down a black travel mug before climbing the rest of the way.

"Hey, you," she greeted him. Her heart began to speed up the longer she looked at the travel mug, suspecting it was the reason behind his unexpected stop. It wasn't the one he typically took when he made the rounds, preferring the type that had the handle. "Is that for me?"

"Yes, it is," he confirmed.

Thanking him when he passed it over she stood up from the chair and opened the lid, wondering what he had made of her, if he…of course it was coffee. She'd become accustomed to drinking any type of coffee that was given to her, a necessity of life these days, but when she had the option she preferred to take it with milk and sugar. Rick knew this…he knew her, and he'd made it exactly as she liked.

"You're not staying?"

He had been about to turn away, to climb back down the ladder and depart, but she didn't want him to go. Thankfully he stopped and looked back at her, and she could tell by the expression that briefly appeared on his face that he wanted to stay. She thought she had made her invitation clear by backing up and giving him room to join her, but she made it clearer now by moving her stool aside and then looking at him expectantly. Getting the hint he chose to stay, moving away from the ladder and then casting his eyes over the wall in interest, looking at the world outside.

Not wanting the conversation to falter before it began, she commented, "You don't normally do the coffee rounds."

"No," he agreed, straightening up. "Just trying to fill in time, I guess."

Carrie held her breath as she looked at him, having forgotten what it was like being with him. His presence always seemed to fill a room without even trying, but even more so in a smaller space like the watch post. Immediately she felt compelled to go to him, to touch his shoulders, his hands, anything…to kiss him. But she resisted this sudden need, not getting the feeling he had come here for that. She knew him as well as he knew her, and she was confident that he hadn't come there just to bring her coffee, but nor had he come to reignite the passion between them. He had made a point of leaving her alone for the last week, of respecting her request for space, and so she couldn't imagine him coming to her with that need right now.

"Is everything okay?" she asked in concern.

Promptly reassuring her, he nodded his head. He raised his hands and scratched at his jaw, and before he even did it she knew he would shift the weight between his feet…and then he did. It was a nervous habit, something he did without even noticing it, but Carrie did. Giving him time, she waited patiently for him to speak, to find the words that he wanted to say to her, though her concern started to grow. What was this about? Was it serious? Was it about them?

"With what happened yesterday," he began slowly, looking at her. "I want to thank you again for what you did for my children, for how you handled Pete. So, thank you," he said sincerely.

Breathing out slowly, Carrie nodded in relief that everything was alright. "I'm just glad that I was there when I was. If I'd been a minute later…" she trailed off, not knowing how to articulate it. However she didn't need to. Rick didn't need anyone telling him what was at stake here with Carl and Judith, at the moment it was a dark cloud over his shoulder every day. "What did you tell Carl? About the blood test?"

"Exactly what Pete told him. That he was testing her blood sugar, and that she's fine. I told him you were just mad that he did it without me there."

"And, he believed you?"

Rick nodded, his confidence in his answer reassuring her. There was a brief pause, and he took a deep breath as he folded his arms across his chest. "I've lied to him again," he said regretfully.

"This one feels pretty justified."

He seemed to disagree. "That's what I told myself when I lied about us." There was a long pause before he spoke again, his voice heavy with emotion. "This thing with Judith, I need it to go away."

"You're worried," she stated. "Of course you are."

"It's more than that," he continued, still looking over the walls into the woods behind them. "I'm sick of thinking about it. The moment I decided the baby was mine, the moment Shane died I stopped thinking about it. Now, it's constantly on my mind."

Her heart heavy with sympathy, she very carefully considered whether or not to say what she was thinking. It wasn't something he would want to hear, but he needed to hear it. "Rick. I'm not saying that Pete's doing the right thing, not in any way. But if you take away the grudge and his motive, he kind of makes a good point."

Without saying a word Rick nodded, his silence prompting Carrie to continue.

"We need to know her blood type…someone does. If she gets hurt one day, and we don't have the opportunity to test her blood, she-"

"She could die," he concluded heavily. "I know."

"I'm just saying, _someone_ should know."

He nodded again. "It's selfish of me…but even if I am her biological father, I don't want to know."

Taken aback, Carrie frowned. "I thought you would," she commented, continuing when he shook his head. "Why not?"

"I don't want to know either way. If she's Shane's, I won't love her any differently," he began, finally turning to look her in the eye. "But I'll know."

"And if she's yours?" she challenged.

He sighed, looking saddened. "If she's mine, it would mean there's nothing left of Shane. There's nothing left of him except who he was at the end…I don't want that either."

This surprised her, and she got the feeling that this was perhaps the most candid conversation they'd had in a while. She had no idea he felt this way, having believed that he didn't want to know Judith's paternity just in case he was disappointed, in case it tainted the way he felt about her. But the knowledge that he feared there might be nothing left of Shane in this world? That surprised her. After everything this man had done to him, a part of Rick still loved him as the friend he had once been, he missed him. The possibility that Judith might be Shane's biological daughter allowed Rick to continue hanging onto a part of his friend.

"I understand," she said softly.

"Thanks," he said gratefully, breaking eye contact a moment later. He lowered his arms and rested one hand on his duty belt, still looking around the woods on the other side of the wall. "When it comes to Lori, I'm only worried about how Carl feels, not about how Judith feels."

Surprised yet again, this time that he was continuing the conversation, Carrie did her best to keep up. "Why?"

"She's his mother…his only mother. But Judith? You and I both know she's going to grow up with a different mother," he commented, turning and looking at her again. "And I'm okay with that."

A brief pause came to pass now, the two of them looking at one another in great thought. She knew what he was getting at with this remark, that despite the cruel thing he had said to her the other day about not being Carl and Judith's mother, he hadn't meant it. One day that would indeed be the case, though perhaps less so for Carl. Rick was right, he knew Lori as his mother, she was the only one who would ever occupy that role, but it was different for Judith. She didn't know Lori, and no matter what efforts her family made to keep her memory alive, it would only ever be second-hand memories for Judith. She would be raised with a different mother, one that Rick chose for her…there was no doubt in Carrie's mind who he wanted to take that role.

"Is Carl coming around at all?" she enquired in concern, knowing his acceptance of her could make or break things. "About us, I mean." She waited on tenterhooks, unsure if she was ready for the answer or not.

This time Rick hesitated, and he looked at her apologetically. "We haven't talked about it much…at all."

"Oh," she said, feeling disappointed to hear this.

"We will," he hastened to clarify, unfolding his arms and managing to bear a small smile. "Soon."

"I know," she nodded, trusting him. "Take it slow…as slow as he needs."

"Things are better between him and I," Rick continued, his words flowing as though every one extracted a hidden pain. "After what happened the other day we called a truce. We're back on speaking terms…we're working things through. I'm trying, and so is he."

Carrie smiled, feeling elated by this news. "I'm glad."

He too smiling, Rick nodded in agreement. "We're working on that Lego today, the Death Star. Eugene's going to help us fix it."

"Fix it?" she questioned with a chuckle. "You messed it up that bad?"

Perhaps embarrassed, Rick stammered and retracted his words as if he had misspoken. "We're not _fixing_ it, just…we've just hit a road block, that's all."

"You screwed it up, didn't you?"

"I assure you, I did not screw it up," he insisted, his lips curling into a smile when he saw her amusement. "Alright then, where's your degree in Lego construction, huh?"

"It's not that hard to follow the instructions."

"Well let's see you in action then," he challenged.

Carrie laughed, having backed herself into a corner here. "Maybe next time," she suggested, gesturing to her broken wrist though it was a lame excuse.

Rick returned her laugh for a moment, but his mirth faded as quickly as it came about. He looked at her wrist now, his jaw flexing as he folded his arms across his chest. "How is your wrist?" he enquired in concern.

She frowned, briefly questioning the root of his concern, and then she remembered. During the incident in the Infirmary she had hit Pete across the face with her cast, and she recalled the satisfying _thunk_ as it connected with his mouth.

"It's fine," she assured him, flexing her fingers. "Like nothing happened."

"Tell that to Pete's face. You left quite the bruise on his mouth."

Carrie chuckled in amusement, feeling particularly proud of herself for what she had done. Though she was still smiling, her shoulders slumped and she sighed as she came to a realisation. "You must have overheard everything," she commented nonchalantly.

She saw the hesitation in his eyes, both of them knowing she was referring to the bug he planted in the Infirmary weeks ago. This had been a sore subject between the two of them, Carrie having protested the dishonesty of listening in on people, but particularly how he often seemed to listen in on incidents involving her. Though he was reluctant to do so, Rick nodded in confirmation.

Carrie's cheeks reddened, and she shook her head to herself. "So you heard what I said to him?" she muttered in embarrassment.

Rick smiled genuinely, looking at her in awe. "I…" he started, unsure of how to express what he was thinking. He raised his hand and scratched his short beard, still smiling. "What you said to him…you practically brought him to his knees. You were incredible."

She smiled, pleased by his praise. "It felt pretty good."

"I'll bet," he said, pausing and looking at her for a long moment. "I've never seen that side of you."

Her smile faded a little, but it lingered still. "That side of me has always been there," she said softly, looking him in the eye. "It's just been a while since someone provoked me in the right way."

"Yeah, I figured."

There was another pause now, both of them acutely aware of the elephant in the room. Not wanting it to stay long, Carrie sought to acknowledge it quickly. "I see now that I underestimated Pete. I'm sorry."

Rick didn't immediately respond, instead slowly absorbing the impact of what she just said. It had been another problem between them that she had never quite understood the risk Pete posed to Carl and Judith, that she was almost complacent about the lengths he might go to. She had known of course that he wasn't to be trusted, that his mood and intentions would change at the drop of a hat, but the incident with Judith had completely opened her eyes. Her acknowledgement that she had underestimated Pete was also an acknowledgement that Rick had been right.

Turning his attention to the woods on the other side of the wall, Rick lowered his arms and rested one hand on his duty belt. "I'm thinking about telling Carl the truth."

As he said this he raised his eyes to her, looking to her reaction to this remark. Carrie was momentarily dumfounded, confused by his sudden about-face. "But…I thought you said-"

"I know what I said," he sighed heavily, looking away from her again. "I'm _thinking_ about it, that's all."

Not knowing how to approach this, Carrie fell silent and waited for Rick to speak, feeling that he had more to say. As she waited she tried to comprehend the enormity of what he had just said, the sudden change of heart that would mean setting aside everything he had already tried to protect Carl from.

"I've stopped him going to school, I'm keeping him away from Ron…but that won't last forever."

"No," she agreed quietly. "It won't."

"Carl knowing the truth means that Pete has nothing over me anymore. It would take away all of his leverage. This whole thing could just die down."

Carrie hesitated, but then spoke her mind. "I thought you didn't want Carl to know, at any cost."

"I don't…but if it has to come out I'd rather him hear it from me, not someone else. I've handled Pete," he added as if to remind himself. "But sometimes these things just have a way of coming out."

Carrie nodded in agreement, silently acknowledging that the possibility of telling Carl was hard for Rick to even consider. It was something only he could decide, a burden he as a father had to carry alone. "You said you handled Pete?" she enquired, breaking the silence. "What did you mean by that?"

"He and I had a long talk this morning. We sorted things out."

She let out a short laugh of disbelief, looking at him incredulously. "Are you serious? You and Pete…talked?"

"Yes. We talked. We've reached an understanding…an agreement to stay out of each other's way."

"O-okay," she said, still in disbelief. "That's good to hear."

"Yes, it is. He'll have no interaction with you, at all. If you need anything, you should go to Denise."

"And Carl? He'll leave Carl and Judy alone?"

"Yes."

Breathing a long sigh of relief, Carrie felt a weight lifting off her shoulders, one she hadn't noticed until now. She pictured the look on Carl's face yesterday, of everything Pete had done to sabotage Rick's personal life. Pete was vindictive, determined to hold a grudge against someone who he felt had wronged him. What happened yesterday with Carl and Judith had been the final eye opener she needed, giving her a first hand glimpse into the lengths Pete was willing to go for his grudge. She took a deep breath, steeling herself before speaking.

"I know when it comes to Pete I haven't been very…helpful," she said awkwardly, her hand restlessly tucking hair behind her ear. "But I want you to know that I get it now. Whatever you need to do, whatever needs to happen next…you have my support."

Rick seemed surprised by this, something that reminded her of how difficult her lack of support had made this for him. This type of problem had been the main catalyst for why she had chosen to leave last week, why she needed time apart from him. She'd been struggling to support the decisions he was making, to be there in his corner backing him up the way she ought to be. She'd needed time to work through that, to realign her priorities so that she could give him the support he deserved. Today that came full circle for her, and she knew she was better capable of being the person he needed by his side.

"Do you mean that?" he asked gently. He seem cautious, as if worried about getting his hopes up.

"Yes," she replied with absolute certainty. "Things make better sense to me now. I trust you, I trust your priorities…therefore I support you too."

He nodded slowly and then looked away, unable to hold her gaze. "You were right you know," he said quietly. "This time apart, it's been good for us."

Though she felt a small flicker of elation, she did not smile. It was relief nonetheless, a relief to know that Rick understood what she had been trying to do, that he felt the benefit. "I'm glad you feel that way. I feel the same."

Carrie watched as he shifted his weight between his feet, the toe of his left shoe pressed into the floor of the watch post and restlessly twisting left and right. He was nervous about something, his apprehension making him fidget. Finally he set his foot flat, the heel of his boot echoing as he looked up at her.

"When are you coming home?"

This time she did smile, his question filling her heart with warmth. He'd been nervous to ask her this, and he'd worked himself up to voicing his worry. As he waited for her to answer he held her gaze, his body tense as he looked at her expectantly.

"Soon."

He seemed unsatisfied. "When?"

"I'd come home now," she said honestly. "But with Father's Day coming up, I want to stay with Jessie a little longer. I think she's going to need a friend in her corner while she deals with Pete."

To her relief he didn't try to negotiate. "So, Monday then?"

"I was thinking Tuesday. It lets the dust settle from the weekend, allows for one last bottle of wine."

He shook his head in exasperation, disbelieving her. "There's no such thing as _one_ bottle of wine when you and Jessie get together for a drink. Add in Tara or Rosita passing by, all of a sudden the pantry wine rack is looking a little sparse."

Unable to dispute this, Carrie shrugged. "It's not my fault Aidan had such fine taste in wine. He always chose well on his supply runs."

Still exasperated, Rick's smile remained, though she could tell he was disappointed still. "Tuesday then."

"Tuesday."

As the weight of her imminent return sank in a moment of peaceful silence passed, she and Rick both recognising that they had surpassed their problems, that they had come out onto the other side. They had survived this, they made it work. Though she knew he hadn't come here for this, Carrie set aside her coffee and slowly moved closer to him, testing the waters. Sharing her thought Rick copied her advance and reached out for her, taking her hand in his and entwining their fingers. As if no time had passed they gently kissed, Carrie sighing the moment their lips touched. It was the sweetest relief she'd felt in weeks, the brief touch of his body against hers and beneath her hands welcoming her back to her rightful place. They properly moved into one another's embrace, Carrie lazily winding her arms over his shoulders as they kissed. Not concerned with lust, they slowly broke apart but then stayed as they were, enjoying the peaceful resolution that had been reached.

Sighing happily, Carrie turned her head into his hand as he ran it over her hair. As she knew he would she felt him trailing his fingers through it, his brow furrowed as he tried to figure out what had changed. "It's shorter," she told him.

He nodded, his hand coming to rest on the side of her neck. "It's nice," he murmured, leaning down to kiss her again.

She returned his kiss, but only for a moment. "Liar," she teased, her lips brushing against his.

Chuckling under his breath Rick smiled, confirming his unspoken preference for her longer hair. "It's nice," he insisted.

Her heart swelling again, Carrie kissed him a little more firmly this time, taking her hand out of his and reaching up. A gentle touch to his jaw prompted him to tilt his head, allowing them to kiss more deeply. She felt a familiar stirring inside of her, their kiss and his touch encouraging her to take more, to do more. It would be so easy for them to indulge completely, to give in and allow their desire to escalate, but she could tell it wasn't what either of them really wanted. Nevertheless she relaxed further into his embrace, allowing him to kiss the side of her neck as he murmured that he loved her.

"I love you too," she returned, breathing in deeply as she settled her head into the crook of his neck. He smelled faintly of dirt and horse manure, not enough for it to be offensive, but to just be _him_.

They stayed as they were for a few moments, enjoying one another's embrace under the warm sun, but as inevitable they were forced to part. It was the sound of hooves on the road that alerted them to an impending interruption, though neither of them were alarmed. If Buttons was approaching she was with only a few select people. Carrie raised her head from Rick's shoulder and stepped back a little, enjoying the way he kept his arm around her waist, his hand resting in the centre of her back. It was an intimate gesture, one that indicated that although he was letting her go, he didn't want to. Looking past him, Carrie smiled as she saw Michonne and Tara walked up the road behind Jessie's house, Buttons being led between them. They made no effort to hide the fact that they were watching them, nor that they were pleased by what they saw.

"There's no need to slow down," Rick told them sternly, having noticed that their pace was lagging.

"Just carry on," Tara insisted, looking at them expectantly.

"Yes," Michonne agreed, her eyes narrowed with a familiar smirk. "Pretend we're not here."

"You're interrupting," Carrie said sternly, though her smile gave away her amusement.

When they refused to let up Rick gave a short sigh, reluctantly letting go of Carrie's waist much to the disappointment of all. As Michonne and Tara passed them by and continued in the other direction Rick muttered his apologies, awkwardly looking over his shoulder towards the houses their family occupied.

"I should go," he said apologetically. "Carl and Eugene have probably started without me."

"And I should pay better attention," she admitted, gesturing to the world outside the walls that she was meant to be supervising.

"How often have you got watch at the moment?"

"Every morning until Wednesday."

He swore under his breath, looking disappointed. "And Sunday?"

"We're doing split shifts on Sunday. Shelly wants me to help out with the celebrations, she's put me in charge of booze."

Rick smiled at this. "Go with your expertise," he teased, though a moment later he became serious again. "Come to church on Sunday."

She frowned at this, surprised by his suggestion. "I can't. I'll have my shift until ten o'clock."

"Then it's a good thing church doesn't start until midday."

Still surprised by his request, Carrie looked at him in disbelief. "You want me to go to church?"

"Afraid you might learn something?"

"More afraid that I'll burst into flame," she joked.

Laughing with her, he nodded in agreement. "Come to church," he repeated. "Carl and I will be there…his insistence, not mine."

This time there was no hesitation on her part. "Alright. I'll come."

"Thank you," he said sincerely, pleased to have her agreement.

He nodded, coming towards her, placing his hand on her waist and then kissing her cheek. As he moved back Carrie cleared her throat and turned her face to him. Getting the hint, he afforded her a proper kiss and allowed her to extend it a few moments. She felt sad when he turned to leave, having forgotten how much she enjoyed his company. Their separation had been good for them, allowing them both to reevaluate things, to get their heads on straight once more, and now that it was almost over the relief was immeasurable. Now she wanted only to have him again, for them to pick up where they had left off, though she knew it would take a little time. Jessie still needed her around right now, and more importantly Carl needed more time one on one with his dad, for them to work through things and to start discussing their relationship. It would be over in a few more days, and then they could start their lives together.

"Hey, Rick," she called out, catching him just as he reached the road. He stopped and looked back to her, the subtle tilt of his head making her stomach flutter. "You didn't bring coffee to anyone else on watch, did you."

It was a statement, not a question. Perhaps embarrassed by her observation he looked away as he smiled, reaching up and scratching the back of his neck. A moment later he turned back to her, looking happier than she had seen him in a long time.

"No. Only you."

* * *

A/N Rick and Carrie are definitely through the hardest parts by now, so I hope you guys enjoy a more pleasant change of pace over the next few chapters. We're slowly approaching the wrap up, but I excitedly warn you that it's not over yet...

I know updates have been slower than we like, but please do read and review. Your words and messages of excitement, enthusiasm and feedback are the only payment I get for my writing (other than my own enjoyment of course). Thanks for hanging in there guys.


	49. Chapter 49

Laying in bed and starting up at the ceiling, Rick resisted the growing urge to look at his alarm clock, knowing that it wasn't going to tell him anything new. Last he had checked it was past eight o'clock in the morning, a time of the day when he was typically wide awake and busy with various activities, but apparently all responsibilities were suspended on Father's Day. Laying there alone he felt restless and ill at ease, not used to the idea of sleeping in anymore…nevertheless he didn't dare get out of bed. So often he had craved this opportunity, wishing he could lay in bed half the morning and just sleep, but in practice it wasn't as good as he remembered it to be. It had been a long time since he'd had a proper sleep in, years since the days of shift work that saw him working awkward hours.

Lori was always so good about the awkward shifts he worked, going out of her way to make sure he was able to rest in peace. She'd keep Carl quiet while he slept during the day between graveyard shifts, and she'd wake him when he slept through his alarm at four thirty in the morning. On the days when he had the opportunity she always insisted that he stay in bed…sometimes after taking Carl to school she'd rejoin him and they'd start their day in bed together. These days he thought about Lori more and more, particularly given the problems he was facing. He and Lori had made mistakes, before and after the outbreak, but none that were irreparable. What happened after had been mulled over too much, but the mistakes he had made before were coming back to him a little more clearly, for he didn't want to make the same mistakes with Carrie.

He supposed things were a little different with her though, in comparison to Lori anyway. Lori spent the last few years of their marriage wishing he would talk to her more, that he'd open up, never understanding why he couldn't. King County had been a relatively peaceful area for many years, but there had been problems of course, and a few key cases had hit Rick harder than he expected. Farm accidents, a couple of suicides, car wrecks, the missing child they found face down in a neighbour's pond…how the hell was he supposed to talk to Lori about those things? He didn't want that in his own head, let alone in hers. But with Carrie things were different…even though they hadn't ever really talked at great length about the things that had happened to them after the outbreak, Rick knew that they could. She would understand the things he had to say, she would have her own experiences to draw on.

So while it was comforting to know that he wasn't making the same mistakes he had made with Lori, he knew he was making different mistakes. He'd let his anger and frustrations take hold of him, he hadn't found a healthy release for them and instead directed them all to Carrie. They were both making their own type of mistakes, he recognised that, but at least they were working on them. Already things were looking up, their short conversation the other day reassuring him of that. The time apart had helped cool their tempers and frustration, they were ready to forgive and move on now, and she was coming home in just two more days. There would still be things to work through with Carl, but even on that front Rick felt optimistic. He and his son were working on things too, talking to one another about various things that had happened, though they hadn't yet covered much to do about his relationship with Carrie. But that too would come, and he felt like they were just waiting for the right time.

With a long sigh he sat up in his bed and looked towards the open door, waiting impatiently for the sound of footsteps. How long did it take a fourteen year old to cook a piece of toast and pour a cup of coffee? That's all he wanted for breakfast, that's all he'd eaten for months now on the occasion he actually stopped for breakfast in the first place. But today Carl had insisted on making him breakfast in bed, ignoring Rick's insistence that it was really more of a Mother's Day thing rather than Father's Day. Driving himself crazy, he ran himself through the mental list of things he should be doing rather than sitting in bed. Check in with Sasha about the night shift, make rounds inside the walls, let the chickens out, make sure the grass alongside the church had been properly cut and raked…he didn't know how to relax anymore.

Making one last attempt to sleep in just to make Carl happy, Rick slumped back down with a sigh, wishing he at least had Judith here to keep him company. Thinking about the day ahead he felt his impatience ease a little, knowing how important this seemed to Carl. He'd been looking forward to Father's Day, to spoiling his dad and then spending the afternoon celebrating with the community. While Rick too was looking forward to this opportunity, it was a little more difficult for him to share Carl's enthusiasm, for lingering in the back of his mind was the small problem that never ceased to be present.

With the festivities being in the name of Father's Day, Rick of course had to factor in Pete. To his frustration Jessie had made it abundantly clear that he was not to be excluded, that she wanted their children to be able to celebrate the day with him, regardless of the circumstances. Before Rick could even try reasoning with her Deanna was in agreement, supportively telling Jessie that they would make any arrangements necessary. Seeing how relieved Jessie was by this news, Rick was left with no other choice but to accommodate Pete. Denying him time with his children would only exacerbate problems, and even though he was confident Pete would be more cooperative and level-headed from now on, there was no need to give him any fuel for resentment. Daryl had the morning shift for watching over Pete, but in the afternoon he would be going to the north watch post. Sasha was responsible for organising Pete's supervision thereafter…Rick would need to speak with her later today.

Since Rick had confronted Pete in the middle of the night there had been only one minor glitch, an argument between he and Carol that had spawned when Sam suddenly changed his mind about wanting to visit him in the Infirmary. It had died down quickly, and since then Pete had been on his best behaviour. Not a foot had been set wrong since then, and he hadn't even gone to Deanna about Rick's intimidation and threat to make him disappear. Knowing that it was a threat he was confident and prepared to follow through, Pete had done the right thing and settled down. It was with hesitant optimism that Rick hoped peace would stay the course, for he wasn't sure how much longer he could live on a knife's edge. He had kept Carl back from school following the incident in the Infirmary, not wanting him to be around Ron who also knew the truth about Judith's paternity, but he couldn't hold him back forever.

Impatient and a little hungry, Rick gave up and got out of bed, breathing a sigh of relief as he stretched his muscles and yawned widely. Carl would be annoyed with him for getting up, but deciding to meet him halfway he opted not to dress, instead staying in the old sweat pants and shirt he wore to bed. Making a half hearted attempt to make the bed before deciding he'd have Carl do it, he stretched his arms behind his head and emerged from his bedroom, glad to finally be out of bed.

"I'm awake, and I'm hungry," he announced loudly, coming down the stairs and making himself known before he entered the kitchen.

"Dad!" Carl moaned in annoyance, appearing ahead of him and blocking his entrance. "Go back to bed. Sleep in, it's Father's Day."

"I did sleep in," he lied for Carl's benefit.

"But you're meant to have breakfast in bed."

Rick shook his head, sighing when Carl still wouldn't let him pass. "Breakfast in bed is for mothers and invalids, of which I am neither." Taking notice of something that smelled like fresh bread and something salty, Rick peered into the kitchen as much as he could. Judith and Michonne were sitting at the island bench, the former's face covered in oatmeal and peanut butter as she chewed on a crust of bread. Smiling at him, Michonne winked.

Hesitating, Carl grumbled under his breath and then looked into the kitchen where Carol must be. "Fine," he finally relented. "But sit at the table, and don't look."

Doing as he was told, Rick averted his eyes and then sat down at the end of the table, keeping his back to his family. "So what are you cooking me?" he enquired, detecting a new aroma he couldn't quite place. Judging by the various clatters of pots and pans combined with the different smells, there was something more than toast on the way.

"You'll have to wait and see."

As Carl headed back into the kitchen, Rick cleared his throat expectantly. "You know, I'm pretty thirsty." Thirty seconds later Carl was placing a cup of coffee on table for him, followed by an old newspaper. "The Washington Post?"

"It's so you can do the crossword," Carl told him, passing him a pen next. "Happy Father's Day."

"Thank you."

Though he was getting rather impatient now that he had the prospect of something more appetising than cold toast, Rick twirled the pen around his fingers and focused on the crossword, secretly pleased by the effort Carl was going to for him. He scratched his unshaven stubble and waited patiently, quickly finishing his coffee and holding out his empty mug as he cleared his throat.

"You only get this treatment once a year," Carl reminded him as he poured some more coffee.

"What about my birthday?"

"Oh, fine…twice a year then," he conceded, heading back into the kitchen. "How come if there's day for mothers and fathers there's no day for children? Like a Children's Day?"

Rick guffawed at this, as did Michonne and Carol. "Every day is Children's Day."

"Well I never got a card or breakfast in bed," he retorted playfully.

"No? Did you see the roof over your head? The food in your stomach? Your Pokemon cards?"

"You're the one who wanted kids."

"Well, that's what we told you."

"Wait," Carl muttered, coming back over. "Mom said I was planned."

Rick grinned, looking up at him and fondly remembering the day he came home from work and got the surprising news that Lori was expecting. "That's what we told you."

Carl rolled his eyes and went back into the kitchen, ignoring Rick's attempt to tease him. He turned his attention back to the crossword and filled in a few of the words, his efforts more for Carl's benefit than his own entertainment, and finally he heard sounds that seemed to indicate breakfast was near. Plates were set out onto the counter, cutlery rattling as it was collected from a drawer while pans clattered as they were set into the sink of soapy water. Carol, Michonne and Carl murmured quietly among themselves, and following a brief silence Rick listened to Carl's footsteps as he approached the dining table.

"Here, Dad. Happy Father's Day," Carl said, placing an enormous plate of steaming hot food in front of him.

Rick cursed out loud, his eyes going wide with surprise as he looked at the plate. He hadn't seen this much food on one plate since before the outbreak, and as he looked it over he was certain that Carl had only had a small hand in it's preparation. This could only be Carol's handiwork.

"You have some home made hash browns, baked beans, sausages, roasted mushrooms, grilled tomato and zucchini," Carl recited, sounding as though he had rehearsed it well. "Pancakes with syrup, a freshly baked English muffin with spinach, hollandaise sauce and a poached egg. Then finally, the pissed a resistance," he began, revealing another plate he had behind his back.

"Do you mean the piéces de résistance?"

Carl sighed. "You want it or not?"

"Yes, please."

Beaming proudly, Carl placed a second plate on the table, the contents of which made Rick's jaw drop. His mouth began watering in anticipation…it couldn't be. "Is that bacon?"

"Yeah," Carl grinned.

"Real bacon?"

"Real bacon. Daryl killed a boar when he was recruiting last month. He gave it to Olivia, and then bam…bacon."

"Shit," he said in awe, glancing up at Carol and Michonne. Carrying two other plates laden with breakfast food, they seemed to be sharing his delight.

"We're taking these next door," Carol said, indicating to two plates laden with the same breakfast food. Though they were likely for Abraham and Glenn, it was likely that everyone would get a little. "Happy Father's Day."

"Thank you," he said sincerely, and not just for their wishes. As they departed leaving he and his children, Rick turned back to his own plate and looked at his own plate. "Get yourself a fork," he said to Carl, pushing the plate over a little. "I won't be able to eat half of this."

Grinning, Carl took him up on the offer and quickly joined him, taking the seat adjacent. Pulling Judith up onto his lap Rick kissed the top of her head and began eating, unable not to moan at the taste of the fresh food from the garden. As always, Carol had excelled herself again.

"Where did the egg come from?" he asked. "The chickens haven't been laying yet."

Carl laughed shortly, rolling his eyes for a moment. "That's what we told you," he said, repeating Rick's earlier words.

Amused by the idea that his group had been hiding chicken eggs in order to surprise him with breakfast this day, he gratefully dug in. He groaned in delight when he found the poached egg had a runny yolk, exactly the way he liked it. "This is good," he said, giving Judith a piece of bacon to try. "Thank you Carl."

"Better than what I gave you last Father's Day."

"Last year Herschel and I got a hot showers thanks to you," he reminded him. "At the prison, that was a treat."

Carl nodded in agreement, though a flicker of sadness crossed his face at the mention of Herschel. Nevertheless the lingering sadness and grief began to pass like it always did, and they continued eating. The abundance of food rendered conversation moot, and with the exception of Judith babbling to herself as she bit into a mushroom there was silence. As they ate Rick was watching Carl closely, getting the feeling that he had something on his mind. On the surface he seemed perfectly content, for how could one not be when they were eating pancakes and bacon, but Rick suspected that he was mulling over a problem. His shoulder's were hunched forward, a slight frown marring his brow as he ate. Rick chose to give him some time to think about it, and he brought it up only when they began slowing down, their stomachs quickly beginning to fill.

"What's bothering you?"

Carl looked up in surprise, blinking rapidly. "Huh?"

Readjusting Judith on his lap, Rick gave her another piece of bacon as he talked. "You've got a massive plate of food in front of you, but you've got the same look on your face as you did the day you finally told me Billy Cartwright was picking on you. So? What's going on?"

Laughing a little, Carl managed a small smile. "Billy Cartwright was so mean."

"Yes, he was," Rick agreed, still able to recall his eight year old's ashen face as he finally told him that Billy was picking on him. "He was a little brat."

"Yeah."

"So go on," he said expectantly. "Spill."

Carl looked away now, his avoidance indicating to Rick that there was indeed something troubling him. As he waited for him to explain Rick held his breath, hoping it wasn't what he was worrying it might be. Carl hadn't said anything about Pete in the days that had passed since the incident in the Infirmary. Forced to carry on the lie Pete began, Rick told him that Judith had indeed been having her blood sugar levels tested, and that she was perfectly healthy. But was Carl beginning to question that? Was he questioning the extreme reaction Carrie had to what she had walked in on? He prayed that wasn't what was on Carl's mind…he had tentative plans to handle this problem in the right way, he didn't want it to come up today.

"Daryl said that I should just leave it alone," he began hesitantly, his jaw flexing as he finally looked up at Rick. "But…it's about you and Carrie."

"Oh," he said dimly, startled by this. It hadn't occurred to him that Carl might be worried about this, having not expected the topic of her to come up today. "What about me and her?"

It seemed Carl felt as uncomfortable as Rick did. "Well, it's just…I was wondering if you guys had broken up?"

His heart stammering, Rick delayed before answering this question. He knew that he and Carrie had resolved things, that they were slowly rekindling the romance in their relationship. Their relationship was far from over, but was Carl ready to hear that? Had enough time passed for him to accept their relationship?

"What's making you think that?" he asked, delaying his final answer. He needed to gauge what Carl was thinking, where he stood on the issue.

"Umm, well," he began sarcastically. "You guys had a huge fight, she moved out, and you're not talking to each other."

Unable to disagree with this, Rick nodded in reluctant agreement. "I can see why you'd come to that conclusion," he said awkwardly.

"So? What's going on then?"

Carl's tone of voice left him feeling a little more confident in the outcome of his answer, yet he still braced himself as he gave it. "Carrie and I have not broken up."

To his relief, no sign of anger or resentment crossed Carl's face, and he simply gave a short nod of acceptance.

"Do you…" Rick began awkwardly, unsure of how to articulate his question. "Do you have any…thoughts on that?"

"A couple," he nodded. His eyes cast on the plate they were sharing, he selected a piece of sausage and dunked it in the runny egg yolk. "You just don't seem like you're together," he commented. There was a brief moment of silence as he chewed and then swallowed. "You seem like you've broken up."

"Carrie and I have some things we're working through, some problems to resolve. That's what we've been doing."

Skeptical, Carl raised his eyebrows. "How are you supposed to work things out if you're not even around each other."

"I questioned that too," he acknowledged. "But it's working for us."

"So, what's the problem?" Carl asked next, showing a little more animation…he seemed worried. "What's wrong?"

He looked down at Judith whose eyes were closed in delight as she chewed on the last piece of bacon, and he gave his answer as gently as possible. "Our problems are not for you to worry about. They're between us, and we're working through them. Things are okay."

"But…it's just that I've been such an asshole to her. I was worried that-"

"That we were fighting about you?" he enquired, clarifying when Carl nodded sadly. "The things we've been working through are not about you."

Carl still did not seem satisfied. "I know I made things hard for you guys," he admitted.

Though he was tempted to deny this, to not let his son be burdened by his understandably angry reaction, Rick told him the truth. "I'll admit, you didn't make it easy, but that was on us, not you. Actually…that was on me."

Looking up at him in surprise, Carl's brow furrowed. "What do you mean?"

"I don't blame you for being angry. It wasn't my intention that you find out from someone else."

"Yeah, I know that," he acknowledged, having already discussed this.

"Carl, I'm sorry for the way things happened, " he began, knowing he should have said this days ago. "I'm sorry that I kept this from you."

For a moment it seemed Carl was surprised by this apology, which was perhaps to be expected given that it had come later than it ought to. Despite this he gave a short nod, the shrug of his shoulders his attempt to ease Rick's sense of remorse. "It's okay…thanks," he muttered, averting his eyes a little. "So, you and Carrie are still together. You still love each other?"

"Yes," he said emphatically, continuing only when Carl raised his head and looked him in the eye. "I love her very much."

Though he nodded in acceptance, Carl averted his eyes again. Watching as he began picking through the food on the plate, Rick knew that he was trying to absorb this knowledge, that he was indeed coming around to the idea. Carl was reaching acceptance, he understood things a little better now.

"If you love Carrie, then why are you wearing your wedding ring?"

Taken aback by the question, Rick looked at his left hand, observing the piece of metal that felt as much a part of his body as did the hand he wore it on. "I'm not ready to take it off."

"That's stupid. If you-"

"It's not stupid to me," Rick cut him off emphatically. "I'll take it off when I'm ready to. Soon…but maybe not yet."

Getting the hint, Carl took a moment to consider his next question. "Doesn't it bother her? Carrie?"

"I don't know," he admitted, having questioned this himself. "But I think she understands."

"Okay, but…why aren't you ready to take it off? You said you love her."

Taking a sip of his coffee, Rick wondered how to begin, how to explain something he hadn't dedicated much thought to. None of this conversation had been something he had anticipated, particularly for today. "Carrie and I? Our relationship is still new, we're still learning."

"Learning?" he questioned, raising his eyebrow skeptically.

"There's lots to learn in a relationship. We're learning how to get along, how to support each other, how to fight…we haven't even had a chance to just be together."

"But, don't you just…" he trailed off in exasperation. "You have to learn this stuff?"

"Oh yeah," Rick laughed. "You definitely have to learn…I forgot to expect that part."

Looking a little exasperated by it all, Carl just nodded and sighed, turning his attention back to breakfast. A few moments passed in comfortable silence, the two of them full despite barely eating half of the plate. They were no longer accustomed to generously portioned meals, and the deliciousness of the food made no difference to that. With a satisfied sigh Rick put his fork down and sat back in his chair, sipping his coffee and looking at Judith. She too was full from her breakfast prior, and she leant back against his chest with a content smile, her face, hands and arms covered in mess. On the other hand, Carl was still looking at the plate, pushing food around with his fork while Rick watched him, wondering what he was thinking. Was he trying to decide if he'd eaten enough, or was he occupying his hands while he mulled over his thoughts?

"I don't want Judy to call her _Mom_ ," he said slowly, his fork clenched in his hand.

Having expected this subject to come up sooner or later, Rick felt somewhat prepared to handle it. "Carrie and I aren't quite at that stage just yet."

"Good," Carl said, looking a little relieved.

"Carl," Rick began, waiting until he had his attention. "One day we will be…maybe soon. Is Judith not going to have anyone to call Mom? No one?"

"She has moms. Plenty of them."

"But one to call her own? She can't have that relationship with someone?"

Frustrated, Carl sighed as he looked back at the plate, spearing a piece of mushroom with a little more force than necessary. "That's not what I meant. I just…I don't want her to forget her real mom, that's all."

"That's up to us. We're the ones who will make sure she knows who her mom is, and Carrie will make sure too. But in real every day life…your sister will need someone to call Mom. If that's going to be Carrie, you and I need to make that happen for them."

There was a short pause now, Carl still looking at the plate as he mulled his thoughts over. Rick could see that he was struggling with this, doing his best to adapt to the imminent and future changes their family was going to experience. Knowing his son well, Rick was forced to acknowledge that although they mourned the same person, their grief and loss was different. He was getting ready to move on with his life, he was able to, but Carl was not yet there. Lori's death was still raw for him, her absence felt every day he was forced to spend without her.

"So, when's Carrie coming back?" Carl asked next. He looked up as he spoke, beginning to eat again.

"Soon," Rick assured him. "She's going to spend a few more days with Jessie to get her through Father's Day, and then she'll be back."

"So, next week then. Right?"

"Tuesday."

"Okay."

Sensing there was still more to say, Rick held Carl's gaze for a few moments, unsurprised when he broke eye contact first. The conversation was not over, Carl still had something on his mind. Patient enough to wait, he turned his attention to Judith and started cleaning her up, wiping the bacon grease off her hands and face. He was confident that he had handled Carl's objection to Judith calling Carrie her mom well, and that he was doing the right thing. It would be one thing to invite Carrie into his life only to limit her relationship with his children, but another thing to deny Judith a relationship with someone who would act as her mother.

"So, the other day," Carl began, his fork frozen midair as he addressed the plate of food hesitantly. "Enid and I kind of like…kissed."

Rick looked up in surprise, having not expected this. As he absorbed what Carl had just said it took every ounce of self-control he possessed to keep a straight face, to not break out into nervous laughter. _Carl had his first kiss? At fourteen?_ Trying to hide his reaction, he looked at Carl carefully, gauging how his son felt about this. He was keeping his eyes focused on the plate, avoiding eye contact as he awaited Rick's reaction.

"You had your first kiss?"

"Yeah," he confirmed, slowly looking up at him.

"Wow," he commented, surprised by the immense feeling of pride that was swelling in his chest. "How'd it go?"

Carl's eyes momentarily bulged, he too surprised by Rick's reaction. "Umm, okay I guess."

"Okay? Only okay?"

He hesitated, pursing his lips a little. "Alright, it was kind of awesome."

Rick grinned, unable to help himself. "Good for you. What brought that on?"

Sighing with relief, it seemed Carl had been bracing himself in anticipation of Rick's reaction. "Well," he began, smiling a little as he relaxed. "I don't really know…we were talking, and then she just started leaning over, and then you know…"

"Just like that?"

Carl nodded. "She didn't even give me any warning, she just leant over and…and yeah, we kissed."

"Anything else happen?" he asked tentatively, treading the line between prying and needing to know.

Blushing straight away, Carl looked mortified by the question, and he hastened to answer. "No, that's all…geez."

"I was just asking," he said lightly. "You know I'd rather you be honest about these things." Even as he said this, he mentally crossed his fingers. The idea of Carl growing up and becoming interested in girls filled him with apprehension and uncertainty, making him wish once again he had Herschel or his own father still by his side.

"Alright, fine," he said awkwardly.

There was a short pause now, Carl still picking through the food on the plate before he finally set his fork down and relaxed back into his chair. When he noticed Rick was still watching him he seemed to cringe in embarrassment, realising the conversation was not over.

"So, you and Enid kissed," Rick began. "Now what?"

Carl gave a great sigh, his shoulder's slumping. "Well actually, I was hoping you could tell me that. After, she got all weird about it."

"Uh oh."

"Yeah, uh oh. She seemed totally fine with things, but then she said we weren't going out or anything."

"I bet that was disappointing."

Carl seemed to deliberate this. "Well, sure, I guess…I mean I don't even know if I want to go out with her or not, but…but why would she do that? Why would she kiss me if she didn't want to go out with me?"

Shrugging unhelpfully, Rick answered, "I have no idea."

"Seriously?" Carl said in frustration. "You don't know at all?"

"Doesn't make any sense to me. Has she said anything since it happened?"

"No. Nothing. She's been totally normal."

"Maybe you should ask Michonne."

"No way, I can't ask her!" he protested.

"Why not?"

"Because she…she's a girl."

"That's exactly why you should ask her. She's your best friend isn't she?"

"Yeah, but still…"

"She won't make fun of you."

Not entirely convinced, Carl just shrugged his shoulders. "Maybe." There was a brief pause, and seeing him deliberate over something, Rick let him think. "It's just…I'm wondering if I screwed it up."

"I'm sure Enid wasn't critiquing your technique."

"No," he said, his cheeks reddening again. "It's just, when she first went to kiss me, I kind of rejected her."

Rick raised his eyebrows at this, surprised. "Why?"

"I thought she was Ron's girlfriend. So I stopped her and asked, and she said she wasn't, and she seemed kind of annoyed. Then we kissed. Do you think that's what I did wrong? Do you think she's mad I asked her about Ron?"

Rick shook his head, disagreeing. "No, I'm sure she wasn't mad," he said, proud of his son's character. It must have taken everything he had to clarify her relationship with Ron before accepting her advance.

"She probably thought I was being stupid."

Rick shook his head again, a memory of his own presenting itself to him. He hesitated before voicing it, unsure of how Carl would like to hear it. "The first time Carrie and I kissed, I rejected her too."

Looking up in surprise, Carl raised his eyebrows. "Why?"

Giving a short chuckle, Rick tried to remember. "I chickened out."

Carl rolled his eyes at this. "Smooth…but at least it worked out for you."

 _Sure, but how many months did it take?_ "Talk to Michonne. She'll know what's going on."

"Yeah, maybe."

As Carl's tone indicated he wanted to be done with the conversation, Rick allowed a brief moment of silence to lapse. "This is nice," he commented. "You and me hanging out, talking about girls."

"Yeah," Carl agreed, smiling to himself. "This is nice."

A few more moments passed in comfortable silence, Rick's heart feeling like a great weight had been lifted off of it. Just like Carrie had promised him, things were continuing to fall into place. Though they'd made up last week, his present conversation with Carl was the indication he needed that their relationship had recovered, that things were going to move forward from here on out. In the next few days Carrie would come home, and their relationship would finally get the proper start it deserved. He honestly couldn't remember feeling this hopeful for the future, or excited. But there was no denying what he felt, and for the first time he was confident in that.

Carl burped loudly, pulling a face as he rubbed his stomach. "God, that was good."

"Yes, it was," Rick agreed, forcing a burp of his own.

As he expected, Carl laughed and started grinning at him, laughing even louder when he saw Judith's startled expression. She turned and looked up at Rick in surprise, patting his chest as she shook her head in disdain.

"Now what?" Carl asked.

"You've got dishes to do," he gestured to the kitchen. "And I've got a crossword."

Sitting up straighter, Carl looked at him nonchalantly. "Oh…so you don't want your present then. Alright…"

Rick quirked eyebrow. "You got me something?"

"I made it," Carl said aloofly, beginning to clear the table. "But if you don't want it that's fine."

Playing along, Rick teased him back. "Let me guess. It's hidden in your pack in the top of our wardrobe, with all your other stuff you think I don't know about."

Carl spun around, sending one of the forks flying off the plate. "Dad!"

"You forget how well I know you," he teased. "It's in there, isn't it? Along with your pencils and sketch book."

He groaned in frustration, picking up the fallen fork and continuing to clear the table. "You didn't look at the pictures I'm drawing, did you?"

"No," he answered, being mostly honest. "Why are you so worried? Are they dirty?"

"No," he said quickly, his cheeks reddening. "They're just…they're not ready to be looked at, okay? Don't look at them."

"I won't. Now go and get my present, and don't forget how well I know you."

Huffing and muttering under his breath, Carl glared at him as he headed towards the stairs. "You don't know me that well!" he called out petulantly. "I have other hiding spots too."

As Judith stood up in his lap Rick grinned at her. "I know he has other hiding spots," he crooned, pleased when she laughed at him. "I know where he hid that page from the Victoria's Secret catalogue, and where he keeps the candy bars he doesn't want to share."

It had been over a month ago that he noticed that Carl's old pack at the top of their wardrobe was no longer empty, and he was surprised by what he found inside. He'd been expecting some hoarded candy and maybe a dirty magazine, not note books and artist quality pencils. Curious, he had opened one of the books only to determine what was inside, and when he gave it a quick flick through and saw only rough sketches and drawings he opted not to look any further. He was desperately curious about what his son might be drawing in these books, longing to have proper insight into what he had on his mind, and it took everything he had to put it all back where it belonged. No longer having a prison cell to himself meant Carl no longer had the privacy he had enjoyed, especially given that here he shared a bedroom with his father and baby sister. It was with this in mind that Rick chose not to invade his privacy unnecessarily, though he hoped one day Carl might invite him to look. From the brief look he had taken it seemed his son had a hidden talent, one he had never anticipated.

"Close your eyes," Carl called out as he came down the stairs.

Doing as he was told, Rick closed his eyes and waited, allowing Judith to get down when she squirmed impatiently. As she ran off and headed for her toys he waited patiently as Carl crossed the room and set something down onto the table.

"Okay, open."

He opened his eyes and looked, intrigued by the large shoe box he found before him. It seemed to have been well secured from prying eyes, the lid having been duct taped down, but other than that it appeared Carl hadn't gone to the effort of wrapping it.

"No wrapping paper, huh?"

"You always said that it was a waste of money."

"Ahh, because money is so tight these days," he teased, sitting forward and taking a look at the shoes.

"Just open it," Carl grumbled impatiently, handing him a utility blade.

Giving him a wry smile Rick took the blade and carefully dragged it along the ridge, removing the lid to reveal some scrunched up newspaper. His curiosity growing, he removed the paper and set it aside, and then his eyes widened when he saw a piece of dark wood, recognising the lingering smell of a stain. He glanced up at his son now, seeing that he was waiting on tenterhooks for his reaction. Removing the rest of the old newspaper he revealed the gift that awaited, and he was silent as he removed the wooden box and set it out onto the table, his fingers lingering on either end as he looked it over. Looking at it long and hard he admired the beautiful wood and the intricate details, the wooden box sitting atop four hand carved feet. He ran his fingers over its shape, feeling how smooth and perfect it felt, how perfectly alined the top and sides were.

"You made this?" he asked, looking at his son again.

Carl nodded, holding his breath as he waited for Rick's reaction. Speechless, he opened the lid and looked inside, finding it was as perfect and well finished as the outside. Still looking it over in astonishment he tried to summon up a reaction other than stunned silence…he couldn't believe that Carl had made this.

"You made this from scratch?"

"Yeah."

Rick turned his attention to the finer details now, still in awe. The two hinges that held the lid to the back panel were perfectly aligned, sitting in a carefully chiseled groove so that they remained hidden when closed. Each corner was formed by a dove tail joint, and while some of them were slightly inconsistent in shape they fit together perfectly, sanded to perfection before they were stained.

"I - I remembered you used to have one like this before," Carl began to explain. "It used to be Grandpa's, right?"

"It belonged to your Great-Grandfather. It was a gift to him from his brother, for when he came home from the War."

"Oh, yeah. So…" he began tentatively, shifting his weight between his feet. "Do you like it?"

Carl's question snapped Rick out of his stunned silence, eliciting a smile. "I love it," he answered with sincerity, looking at him. "It's beautiful Carl, thank you."

Carl too smiled, relieved that he liked it. "Good, I'm glad."

"I had no idea you were this talented," he said in awe, standing up and drawing his son into an embrace.

He seemed embarrassed now, but he returned Rick's embrace. "Tobin did most of it. He did all the hard stuff."

"You made this…you should be very proud of yourself," he said, stepping back and looking Carl in the eye. "I know I am."

"Thanks, Dad."

Still looking at him in awe, Rick was suddenly struck by how much his son had grown, and not just in a physical sense. He'd been through a lot lately, having lost Noah and his friendship with Ron breaking down, all of that quickly followed up by the discovery of Rick and Carrie's relationship. It had been a difficult time for him, his reaction justified and righteous. Even at a few months shy of fifteen Carl was still young, he still did stupid things and made bad decisions, but he had grown and matured too. His handling of the truce between the two of them showed that, as did his growing acceptance of Rick and Carrie's relationship. Suddenly struck by how quickly things were changing for his family, he pulled Carl back into his embrace and held him tightly, wishing he could stay young forever.

"I love you Carl," he said, kissing the crown of his head while he had the chance. "So very much."

"I love you too, Dad."

In the space of less than half an hour, Rick knew that he and Carl had reached a point where they could finally move forward, where everything that needed to be discussed had been. Like he had the other day after he and Carrie talked, Rick felt a renewed sense of hope, one that left him feeling particularly good about the day that remained ahead. Today felt like a brand new start.


	50. Chapter 50

A/N Just a general reminder that most warnings apply to this story, and that I don't put up specific warnings for each chapter as it sometimes spoils the 'surprise'. If there's content that you may not want to read, please reacquaint yourself with the warnings on this story before continuing to read future chapters.

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Standing at the kitchen counter with her eyes cast on the task at hand, Carrie tried to maintain the pretence that she wasn't eavesdropping. However only a minute or so passed before she gave up entirely, telling herself that it was necessary to listen, that she needed to be abreast of the situation. Setting the knife aside she looked up to the front door where Jessie stood talking to Pete, their voices only just audible from the kitchen. Out on the porch Carol stood behind Pete, supervising their conversation while Sasha stood on the pavement, guarding him. They'd been out there talking for about five minutes now, but even from the kitchen Carrie could tell that Jessie was holding her own, that she was standing her ground.

"He doesn't want to stay over," Jessie repeated for the third time, her tone calm and measured. "He's told me that."

"Just let me talk to him about it," Pete pleaded with her, sounding genuinely upset. "He loves me Jessie, you know he does. He's just afraid of what everyone's been telling him, but he doesn't have to be."

"Well, he is afraid. He doesn't want to sleep over at the Infirmary, even for Father's Day."

"But-"

"I said no."

There was a long pause, and Carrie leaned to the right to get a better view of Pete. His face was screwed up, his hand running through his hair as he took a deep breath and thought about what he was going to say next. He was treading carefully, having no choice but to hold his temper.

"I'm his father. He doesn't have to be afraid of me."

"Well it's a little late for that," Jessie said bluntly, folding her arms.

"Jessie…I know what I've done. I know I've fucked everything up, but you've got to meet me halfway here."

"I am meeting you halfway. You've taken Ron from me completely, and Sam goes to visit you, unsupervised, every day."

There was a brief pause, Pete taking another deep breath. "I'll talk to Ron, okay? I'll talk to Ron if you talk to Sam."

"I have talked to him. He's going to church with you, he's going to spend the entire afternoon with you, a-"

"I just want him to stay the night. I want to make him dinner, carry him to bed when he falls asleep watching TV, make him pancakes in the morning. Is that too much to ask?"

"Yes, it is too much. He needs more time."

"Why?"

"Because like me, he still remembers."

In spite of the situation, Carrie smiled to herself. It was such a relief to hear Jessie standing up for herself, to know that the support she was receiving from the people around her enabled her to do so. They'd been talking last night over a glass of wine, Jessie telling her that she'd never felt more empowered and confident than she did right now. In spite of Ron's rebellion, her relationship with Pete was finally on her own terms. She still loved him, she didn't bother trying to deny that, but she had known for a long time their relationship couldn't go on any longer…things were finally on her terms again.

"Jessie, I-"

"Sam said no to the sleep over, and therefore so have I," she cut him off abruptly. "Carrie will bring him to church with her at midday, and then she will bring him home at six o'clock. That's my final decision."

Ignoring Pete's attempt to keep bargaining, Jessie turned on her heel and left, and though she maintained the air of confidence, Carrie could see she was struggling. In seconds Jessie had passed through the kitchen and sought refuge in the hallway behind it, giving Carrie a glimpse of her teary eyes as she passed. Though she felt empowered and confident, it still took everything she had to stand up to her husband, and to do so without showing how much it affected her.

Lingering on the front porch and ignoring Carol's instructions to leave, Pete called out through the open door. "Jessie, please! Come on, he's my son too!"

Rinsing her hands off at the kitchen sink, Carrie headed for the front door. She looked at Pete as she approached, pleased to see that although he was refusing Carol's instructions to leave, he hadn't tried to come inside the house. Whatever agreement and terms he and Rick had reached the other day, he was keeping his end.

"I'll talk to Ron!" he appealed desperately. "Please Jessie, I'll talk to Ron, just let me have Sam tonight! Just one night!" As Carrie reached the door Pete turned to her next. "Carrie, please can you talk to her? Can you just…"

He trailed off when she looked him in the eye, her expression unsympathetic as she began closing the door. After what happened in the Infirmary the other day he must be feeling pretty desperate if he was appealing to her for help, and this knowledge only furthered the sense of satisfaction she felt as she closed the door in his face. She looked at him through the glass panes as she turned the lock on the handle, the sound of its click the final indication that she was not going to help him. Interested in his reaction she stood there and held his gaze a little longer, unsurprised to see anger and hatred appearing on his face. There was a brief moment in which his mouth twisted into a snarl, his shoulder's straightening as he tried to intimidate her, but it passed as quickly as it came.

Moments later his face fell back into despair, sadness filling his eyes as he looked into the house that had once been the home he shared with his family. Whether it was an act or genuine sadness, Carrie did not care, she was unsympathetic. While she'd never felt that Pete should be forgiven or made allowances for, now she felt even more strongly against him. Trying to destroy Rick had ruined any chance he had of her speaking out against him being exiled or executed. Now, it was no holds barred in her opinion…Rick ought to do whatever it was necessary to keep him in line.

Finally Pete turned away and left, politely brushing past Carol as he trudged down the patio steps and returned to the Infirmary with Sasha in tow. Having been present only to supervise his interaction with Jessie, Carol let him go and instead lingered on the front porch a little. Wondering if she wanted to talk to her, Carrie reached for the door lock, but Carol stopped her at the last minute. She gave Carrie a nod of affirmation, assuring her that everything was going according to plan, that things were okay. Grateful for this, Carrie smiled and gave her a small wave as she turned away and headed back into the kitchen. She resumed her former task of preparing fresh fruit for the punch she was making, mentally making notes of what she had left to do. Everyone was pitching in that day to prepare food and drink of some kind, and knowing how to play to her strengths, Shelly and Carol had assigned Carrie to organising alcohol and drinks rather than baking.

"Thanks for that," Jessie said softly, emerging from the stairwell behind the kitchen. Her eyes were a little red and bloodshot, but Carrie didn't mention it. "Sam was listening."

"Is he okay?"

Jessie nodded, wiping at her eyes. "Yeah. He tried to tell me he'd stay the night with Pete after all, that he didn't want us to fight, but I told him no."

"Good," Carrie muttered, believing Jessie had made the right choice, despite Sam's offer. He'd made it abundantly clear he didn't want to stay the night with Pete, that he wanted to come home to his Mom instead. Any last minute change of mind would be because of Pete's influence.

"Let's uhh…" Jessie deliberated, mentally collecting herself. "Let's get finished up here," she decided, picking up the piping bag of bacon flavoured frosting. "I'll just need to do some quality control testing."

Carrie grinned as Jessie piped a little frosting onto a spoon. With a long, gratuitous sigh she brought the frosting to her mouth and ate it, her eyes closing in delight. "Mmmmm….I needed that."

"Quality control is important," Carrie assured her, holding out a spoon for her own taste test. "Mmm, yes. That's good frosting. You should probably try it again just to be sure."

As she began laughing, the uncomfortable encounter with Pete began to fade from Jessie's focus, her cheerful smile returning as she turned her focus back to the beer and bacon flavoured cupcakes she was making. It was barely eleven o'clock, and already it felt like Carrie had put in a full day of work. She had taken her usual shift on watch that morning, and although their shifts that day were shorter to accommodate more people being involved in the celebrations, Carrie hadn't found time to rest. As she finished and began heading home she'd been immediately called upon to help the others clear Walkers outside the walls. With the Wolves out there they had originally intended to continue laying low inside the walls, but neglecting their duties outside was beginning to work against them. The Walker pits and spikes were full, and the build up was only attracting more than usual. On one hand Carrie could see the potential of allowing some Walkers to build up around them, that they'd act like guard dogs against any attack from the Wolves, but that too came with a risk. If they needed to leave the walls for any reason, whether it be a planned run or an emergency they would have dozens of them to contend with…hundreds if they let them keep building up.

It was exhausting work to contend with, even with Stacey in the watch tower taking out the worst of the Walkers still roaming around. The work was harder given she only had one hand upon which she could depend, and by the time they had finished Carrie was sore and tired, barely able to comprehend that there was still an entire day left ahead of her. She had stopped only long enough to shower off the Walker guts before getting to work on the drinks, and she still had a lot of work to do before taking Sam to church. Then there was the celebrations themselves to contend with, an entire afternoon filled with helping prepare and cook food, setting up gazebos and games for the kids, making sure everyone had a good time, not to mention the clean up.

Working as quickly as she could with her non-dominant hand, and wishing she had thought to start this the night before, Carrie finished slicing what little fruit they had before dividing it between the two enormous dispensers. Ensuring that one was labelled as for the adults only, she started added the wine, spirits, fruit juice and lemonade, taking care that she tasted it at various stages. Encouraging Jessie to have a taste too, Carrie hoped that Olivia had made enough ice to keep these drinks cold, knowing that she had been collecting ice from every household for the last three days. Putting on a celebration for sixty people these days was more complicated without the ability to buy most of their supplies.

"You should go and get ready," Jessie told her. "I can finish this for you."

"No, it's okay. I have to get them all of this to the Pantry, and-"

"And you're going to carry all those?" Jessie asked wryly, gesturing to the dispensers filled with lemonade and iced tea. "You and your broken wrist?"

"Well, no. I was going to sweet talk Eugene, maybe pull down my top a little."

Jessie laughed in amusement, knowing she was joking. "Go on," she said, giving her a gentle shove towards the staircase. "I can take care of all that, you don't want to be late for church. Only Gabriel is allowed to be late."

Grateful for the help, Carrie raced upstairs and started getting ready, having hoped she'd have more time up her sleeve. Having already showered after returning from the outside, she simply undressed and then slipped into the summer dress she had chosen for today. The only nice set of clothing she possessed was the skirt and blouse she'd worn to Deanna's party three months ago, but since then she'd gained weight, the changes in her body necessitating a trip back to the Pantry to find something else. The dress she was wearing today was chosen with Rick in mind, knowing that he'd be there at church, that he'd be at the celebrations that afternoon.

It gave her a little kick to know that he'd appreciate certain aspects of what she was wearing, that his eyes would be following her throughout the day. In the two weeks since Carl had found out about their relationship the physical aspects of it had died down. But now things were changing, their relationship set to resume again…it would be nice to dress up a little for him. Her dress was modest enough to wear to church, but short enough that he'd have a great view of her legs, and so she'd chosen it with him in mind. However, the nude heels she slipped onto her feet were for herself, and just as she knew she would she got a little jolt of confidence as stood up in them. End of the world or not, she'd always love wearing high heels.

As she brushed her hair she went to the effort of putting on a little make up, nothing more than a little mascara and some lipstick, but it was enough. Just as she did with the shoes, she felt another jolt of confidence as she carefully applied the red lipstick, this having always been her colour. It felt good to dress up a little today, to take pride in her appearance and the way she dressed. Though it wasn't something she was supposed to hope for given that it was Father's Day, but a part of her hoped that she and Rick might find a moment alone together, that he might have the opportunity to appreciate her short dress close up.

"Sam?" Carrie called out as she walked past his bedroom. "Come on, I'm ready to go."

To her surprise, she found him patiently waiting downstairs, sitting at the kitchen bench eating a cupcake Jessie had made. "I've been ready for ages," he said proudly, wiping frosting off his upper lip.

"I was only five minutes," she insisted playfully, knowing he thrived on it. "You weren't waiting for _ages_."

" _Ages_!"

"Give me some of that," she said quickly, snatching a small piece of his cupcake off his plate.

"Carrie!"

"Mmmmm," she moaned, teasing him. "Yummy."

Sam just rolled his eyes at her. "It's fine, I can get another later."

"Not if I eat them all first."

"Mom!" he appealed for help, failing to suppress the grin that indicated he wasn't really upset.

Jessie just shook her head in amusement. "Go on, Carrie's ready," she told him. "Finish your cupcake then wash your hands."

As Sam put the last piece in his mouth and rushed off to his bathroom upstairs, Jessie turned to her gratefully. "Thanks for this, for taking him today. I know church isn't really your thing."

"That's okay," she said honestly. "Besides, I was going anyway…Rick asked me to."

Jessie smiled at this, quirking an eyebrow. "Oh, really?"

"I've been thinking about going for a while now…at least once, anyway."

"It's a little nicer now that it's in the church, not that tiny garage," Jessie told her. "And Gabriel gives a good sermon…he's not too boring."

"Good," she said in relief, having worried about this a little. She knew very little about Gabriel, having not had many interactions with him, and it constantly came as a surprise to know that he had arrived in Alexandria with Rick's group.

His footsteps like thunder as he raced downstairs, Sam appeared back in the kitchen panting for breath. "I'm ready, let's go."

"Bye Jessie."

"Bye," she replied, hugging Sam tightly before letting him leave. "You'll have a good day with Dad, alright? Don't forget to take the card you made him."

"Okay," he said, hugging her back tightly and hanging on longer than necessary. When they broke apart he was still smiling, apparently comfortable enough to spend the afternoon with Pete, despite not wanting to stay the night.

Without further fuss they departed for church, Carrie lowering her sunglasses as they emerged into the beautiful June sunshine. When they reached the pavement Sam slipped his hand into hers, a gesture that didn't surprise her. Sam was holding up well through his parents' separation, but just like Jessie he too struggled, often showing different facades of strength depending on who he was around. Now that he didn't feel like he needed to be strong in front of his mom, Sam was more able to show his vulnerability, the sense of apprehension he felt. He loved his dad, he wanted to keep their relationship…but he still remembered. With that in mind, Carrie was happy to hold his hand as they walked, happy to sit nearby in church as he had requested.

Feeling the warmth of the sun touching the skin on her shoulders, she smiled to herself as they set off up the road, hearing the satisfying sound her heels made against the asphalt. Though her day had felt like an uphill battle so far, she had a good feeling about the afternoon. The community needed to let their hair down a little, to relax and remember how to enjoy one another's company again. So much had happened in the three months since Carrie's arrival, the residents having endured quite the upheaval once they had discovered that the Wolves were close by. So much had changed since then, and for some it was difficult to embrace those changes as easily as the others did. Today would be an opportunity to change that, to not just celebrate Father's Day, but for the community to be together again and relax a little.

It seemed Carrie and Sam were one of the last to arrive, and seeing everyone else filing into church ahead of them they lingered back for a few moments. As they waited she looked around curiously, seeing a few other residents who were already getting set up for the afternoon ahead. Erin, Barbara and Shelly were setting up tables while Sturgess and Abraham were erecting a large gazebo, needing to provide some shade from the warm sun. She'd seen Abraham on the schedule to take watch from the west post that afternoon, and she wasn't surprised that he was avoiding the Father's Day celebrations. Not everyone was in the mood to celebrate such occasions.

"Carrie."

"Mmm?" she responded, looking at Sam just in time to see him putting his arms around her waist, pulling her into a hug.

"Thanks for being my mom's friend," he said quietly, mumbling against her shoulder as he held her tightly.

Her heart swelled with a mixture of sympathy and relief at this remark, sympathy for what Jessie and Sam were enduring, and relief that she had been able to help. She had known in advance that moving in and supporting Jessie would help her through this stage, but hearing Sam's gratitude confirmed it for her.

"You're welcome," she said, putting her good arm around his shoulders and returning the embrace. She let him hold the hug for a few moments before gently breaking it, smiling down at him as she took his hand again. "Come on, we should get in there before Gabriel starts."

Nodding, Sam followed her lead. "Okay, but he never starts on time."

He held her hand only until they stepped onto the church's porch, letting it go now that he had more people to be brave around. Feeling the shade come over her Carrie raised her sunglasses and looked around, pleased to see the church so full of life and chatter. Though she had jogged past it on many occasions prior to the expansion, the first time she had looked inside was last week. Then it had still been full of cobwebs and dust, its character and beauty marred by the distinct air of neglect. Once the construction crew had given it the seal of approval for its structural integrity, the residents had been allowed inside to clean and restore it to its former glory, and they had done just that.

The building was decorated as such that someone like Carrie, who could count on one hand the number of times she'd gone to church, felt at ease. Filled with the warm chatter of the residents who were slowly filling into the pews, the large windows and stone accents made Carrie feel a little more more comfortable…it wasn't like the grand church she had once visited in Manhattan whose strong incense, candles and dark interior had been intimidating. This church aroused a sense of community and friendship, not one of intimidation or wrath.

As everyone began filing into the church pews and taking their seats, the aisle cleared to reveal Pete about halfway down, his expression concerned as he awaited Sam's arrival. When he saw his son his shoulder's sagged in relief, his concern turning into a genuine smile when he saw that despite his argument with Jessie that morning, Sam was there to see him.

"Wait, Sam," Carrie said quickly, grabbing his shirt as he went to dash down the aisle. "The card."

"Thanks," he said gratefully, taking the Father's Day card she had been carrying for him. He hesitated before running off again, and he looked up at her with those enormous blue eyes that never failed to make Jessie's heart melt. "Where are you sitting?"

She glanced up and looked at the pews, relieved when she immediately saw the answer in the form of Tara and Eugene. "I'll be sitting right behind you, okay?"

"Okay, thanks."

He left without further fuss, turning on his heel and dashing towards Pete. Had it been anyone else joyously lifting Sam into the air it would have been a heart warming scene, Pete's eyes clenched as he held his son tightly and kissed the top of his head. Standing back a few yards, Carrie watched as Sam gave Pete the card he had made him, beaming when he opened it with a smile. She glanced around the rest of the church, noticing that she wasn't the only one watching the scene as it played out. Though they had no idea the depth of Pete's violence towards Jessie and his grudge against Rick, they seemed to be watching Pete in concern, almost as if worried he'd break out into a temper right then and there.

"Do you want to sit with Ron and me, or with the other kids at the front?" Pete asked.

"I'll sit with you," Sam said immediately, sounding as though he genuinely meant it. "I have to tell you about your present. It's not ready yet, but Mom's finishing it, and then…"

As he ushered Sam into the pew where they were sitting, Pete glanced up at her, and to her surprise he did nothing other than simply nod…almost as if he was thanking her. Despite this, Carrie was not one who would be so easily manipulated. He had fooled her for long enough, so long that she hadn't given Rick the support he needed as he tried to prevent Pete breaking Carl's heart. She wouldn't forget that, and nor would she forget the way he put his hands on her the other day in the Infirmary, the way he tried to hurt and intimidate her. So while she was forced to let him sit down between his two children, she wasn't forced to let his false apologies and remorse fool her again.

A moment later her mind was set at ease, for although she was there to look after Sam, Rick was there for Pete. She should have expected to see him sitting in the pew directly across from Pete, the members of his family surrounding Pete on all sides. While Rick sat in the pew across from him, she, Tara and Eugene would sit behind. In front of him were Glenn and Maggie, while further along his own pew were Michonne and Rosita. Completely surrounded by them, Pete would have no choice but to behave himself, his current situation setting the precedent for how the rest of the afternoon was to proceed.

Coming down the aisle to take her seat, Carrie's heart swelled as she walked up behind Rick, seeing that although he'd gone to an effort to dress for church, he still looked like himself. He still wore his black jeans with the patch on the leg, and the white linen shirt was unbuttoned at the top with the sleeves rolled up above his elbows. Looking perfectly content despite who sat across the aisle from him, Rick leant back in his pew while he waited for Gabriel to start, stroking his hand through Judith's hair as she sat in his lap. Carl was beside him, rummaging through Judith's backpack looking for something in particular. Like his father, Carl had gone to the effort of dressing up for church, but did he have any idea how similar the two of them were dressed, how alike they looked? They both wore jeans, both wore nice shirts with the sleeves rolled up…the curl of their hair and the way they sat beside one another was the final factor that warmed her heart.

Suddenly Judith looked up and saw her approach, and despite most often being hot and cold in her opinion of Carrie, today she beamed up at her. Following his daughter's gaze Rick turned around, and she saw the unconscious reaction he had to her. He smiled when he saw her, but he also sat up a little taller and straightened his shoulders. It was cute, particularly the way his eyes dragged themselves down her body, his smile widening ever so slightly as he looked at her bare legs. Quickly getting himself together, Rick returned his eyes to hers and held her gaze as she sat down, and then he reluctantly turned back to Judith who was vying for his attention. Content to watch him at her leisure, she watched as he opened a small plastic container and held it out to Judith, but it was what she saw next that made her heart really skip a beat.

Seated beside his father, Carl had turned around and looked across the aisle towards her, and when she finally caught his gaze the strangest look crossed his face…relief. Feeling a brief surge of worry, she wondered what he was thinking, what was going through his head as he looked at her…and then he smiled. As if nothing had happened between them at all, Carl smiled and jerked his head ever so slightly, his way of non-verbally greeting her. Filled with disbelief Carrie looked at him blankly and then finally smiled back in relief. Other than their encounters at the chicken coop and the Infirmary, he hadn't spoken to her at all since the day he moved out. While she had trusted Rick's judgement and assurances that Carl was coming around and was trying to accept their relationship, this was the first indication she had from Carl himself. He smiled at her, he nodded to acknowledge her arrival. The gestures were small, perhaps insignificant to anyone else, but to her they meant a lot.

"Tara," she said quietly. "Carl just smiled at me."

Tara gave a short chuckle and looked her up and down. "Of course he did," she teased. "The kid's only fourteen, but he's got eyes."

As Eugene wolf whistled, Carrie sighed in exasperation. "Come on, you know what I mean. He-"

"I know," she said kindly. "He smiled at you…it's a big deal."

Glad she understood, Carrie looked back over towards Rick and Carl. They weren't looking back anymore, Rick's attention being dominated by Hayley and Connor who had come over to see Judith. Entertaining her and pestering him with questions about taking Judith onto their water slide, the children took all of his attention, and with that in mind Carrie turned her own attention elsewhere. In front of her Sam and Pete were talking animatedly, Pete nodding his head and raising his eyebrows in surprise. Glad that Sam was enjoying the time with his father so far, she glanced at Ron who sat on Pete's other side, though she wasn't surprised by what she saw.

Ron sat with his shoulders hunched and his head bowed, listening to music as he played games on his iPod touch. As she looked at him she felt a surge of unfair resentment, hating the fact that he had been so easily manipulated by his father. The heartache Ron was causing Jessie was terrible, and he knew exactly what he was doing to her. But at the same time as Carrie felt this resentment, she also pitied him. Ron's situation was complicated and difficult, and he found himself caught between both of his parents…it was no small wonder that he had taken out his frustrations on Carl, that he was trying to cause hurt and pain to someone other than himself.

Catching the sound of poorly stifled giggles from beside her, she whirled around to look at Tara and Eugene, her eyes narrowed in suspicion. "What?" she asked, dreading the answer.

They giggled again, and then Tara answered, "Eugene just wants to know how far up your legs the tan goes."

"I'm also willing to concede that you're right," he commented, leaning forward to look at her properly. "In that dress, your breasts are at least a D cup. I'm still willing to verify it though."

Having come to expect crude but ultimately innocent comments like this from Eugene, Carrie just rolled her eyes, but she cringed a little when she glanced down at her lap. Now that she had sat down her dress was beginning to ride up her legs, and she tugged on the hem to pull it back down a little…it hadn't seemed this short when she put it on.

"Don't do that," Tara said, nudging her side. "Look."

Following the instruction, Carrie raised her head in the direction that Tara was pointing, and a stupid grin crossed her face when she caught Rick turning away. He'd been looking in her direction, and as she pictured his blue eyes casting themselves over her legs once again she was reassured in her choice of clothing.

A hush began to slowly sweep the church, the last stragglers beginning to take their seats as Gabriel entered the church and made his way down the aisle. He stopped and talked to people as he made his way to the front, wishing some a happy Father's Day and shaking their hands. He did the same with Pete and his sons and then turned to Rick, beaming as he looked down at Judith and stroked her head. Having become well accustomed to Gabriel thanks to Carol taking her to church, Judith smiled sweetly at him and offered him one of her crackers. Continuing, he quickly concluded his greetings as he reached the front, and it was there that he stopped to speak to the group of three who occupied the front pew every week…a group who had once been four.

Deanna, Reg and Spencer had slowly begun emerging from the weight of their grief in the last week, resuming their former roles in the community step by step. It had been just over a month since Aidan's death on the supply run, and it was a relief to see his family returning to the community, coming up for a breath of fresh air. The weight of Aidan and Noah's deaths would be felt for a long time to come, particularly for the Monroe family, but even as this thought occurred to Carrie, so too did another. It was startling to realise that she hadn't really given Noah much thought over the last week or so, that his absence hadn't been on her mind. It was understandable in some respects, a great deal had happened since his death, but she still felt a horrible shiver of guilt. That was simply the way it was these days…people died, and other people moved on. There was nothing anyone could do about it.

"Good morning, everyone," Gabriel began, his voice a little soft until he cleared his throat and spoke again. "Or should I say, good afternoon?" he corrected himself, pausing while the congregation gave a small chuckle. "I've dedicated my service to the Sunday morning mass for well over a decade now, but I must admit it was nice to have a sleep in this morning. We will begin our Father's Day service with the hymn, Great is Thy Faithfulness, on page twelve."

Moments later everyone began to stand, murmurs breaking out ever so briefly before they fell silent again. Doing what everyone else did, Carrie stood and reached for the Bible in the back of the pew in front of her.

"No, no," Tara whispered hastily, taking the Bible from her and swapping it for a small booklet. "This one."

Grateful, Carrie took her booklet and opened up to the correct page, finding it just as the church organ began to sound. Feeling like a fish out of water she tried her best to participate as the congregation broke out into song, but already she got the feeling that this would be her only attendance to Gabriel's church service. Quickly getting distracted, she looked around as much as she could without being too obvious, and it was inevitable that she look at Rick across the aisle. Like her, he wasn't really paying attention to the hymn being sung, more focused on entertaining Judith who he held on his hip. He opened his mouth and let her feed him a cracker, a grin crossing her face when he closed his lips around her knuckles and pretended to bite. Judith's shriek of laughter was audible over the singing, but no one seemed to mind. Babies got away with anything, even in church.

A few minutes later the hymn came to a conclusion, the music and voices fading into silence. Still holding the booklet Carrie wondered if there was something else to do now, if they were going to pray.

"Please be seated."

Just like before there was a murmur of voices as the church did so, Rick quickly trying to shush Judith as silence fell once again. Resuming her seat, Carrie put the booklet of hymns back where Tara had taken it from, and then immediately regretted it. Not quite sure of herself she wanted something to do with her hands, something to hold, to occupy her lifelong habit of fidgeting. What now? Should she pick up the Bible? Would they follow along while Gabriel read passages she would never fully understand?

"Practice what you preach," Gabriel began slowly, enunciating the words of the well known phrase. "In my mind, this also includes the advice to preach what you practice. It's for the latter advice that I have never before preached on Father's Day. To preach a sermon on Father's Day, when I myself was not a father felt fraudulent."

Despite her best attempts, Carrie felt herself quickly tuning out what it was Gabriel preaching, her interest having not been immediately caught. Finding no immediate connection to what Gabriel had to say, her mind automatically drifted, seeking something else that would capture her interest.

Glancing at Tara beside her, who to Carrie's surprise was paying attention, she smiled on the inside. Though she'd technically not been any further away from her family in the second house than she had been before, she hadn't seen a great deal of them since she had temporarily moved in with Jessie. They worked together outside the walls, sometimes they kept one another company while on watch, but it wasn't quite the same as before. Knowing that soon she would be coming home to Rick was a relief on more than one level. Aside from the fact that Carl knew about their relationship, their previous lives would resume, things would go back to normal. She missed her group…her family.

All she had left to do was get Jessie through Father's Day and into next week, and then she'd be home. Monday night would be the last she spent with Jessie. Leaving her home wouldn't mean that her support or friendship would come to an end, but now was the time for Carrie to take care of herself, to look after her own needs - and right now those needs were for her to be at home. It was more than just missing her family. She missed Rick, she was impatient to start their life together, for that was the inevitable progression. They both knew their relationship was going somewhere, they had said as much already. The idea was exciting, and it filled her with hope and anticipation for the future. She didn't know exactly what it was going to bring, but she knew that as long as she and Rick were sharing their lives with one another, things would be okay.

Looking over at Rick again, she smiled as she watched Judith trying to drive him crazy, the little girl filled with restless energy. She sat in his lap, but her hand had a strong grip on his right ear lobe, and she giggled to herself as she tugged on it and then let go, ignoring his attempts to make her stop. Upping her game a little, she clambered to her feet and stood up in his lap, not noticing the way he flinched as her shoes dug into the top of his thigh. She reached into his hair now, still grinning as she trailed her fingers through his curls and then tugged…gently at first, and then harder. He scolded her now, pushing her hand out of his hair and looking at her sternly. Unperturbed, Judith kept smiling as she stroked her fingers over the stubble on his face, unsuccessfully trying to tug on it. When she saw that she couldn't do it she turned away from him with a huff of impatience. She whined until he put her down on the floor, and though Carl tried to entice her over towards him, she had other plans.

Thrilled, Judith wandered out into the centre of the aisle, standing silently as she took in the knowledge that she was free, that she could go and do as she pleased. Looking this way and that, she tentatively took a few steps towards the door as though she was going to make a run for it, but then turned around the other way. Seeing Gabriel standing at the front she slowly began making her way up there, capturing the attention of everyone she wandered past. Happily basking in all the smiles and attention she was receiving, she wandered up the front and then disappeared as she headed towards where the Monroe's were sitting. Seconds later her head popped up again, her smile wide as she sat on Deanna's lap.

"Like our earthly fathers do, God makes choices for us," Gabriel continued preaching, though his eyes too were briefly drawn to Judith. "We don't always understand the choices he makes, we don't always trust them either. In our worst moments we cry out to him, and we ask why he has forsaken us, where he is in our time of need. It takes a great deal of faith and understanding to trust in the Lord's choices, but trust in them we must. The choices he made for us, as our heavenly father…he made these choices before he even formed you."

Not content to sit still for very long, Judith was back on the move very quickly, abandoning the Monroes and wandering back down the aisle. Carrie could see Rick watching her in exasperation, a keen eye peeled for any sign of her making trouble or causing a disturbance. Making her choices carefully, Judith stopped by another pew and squeezed herself past the feet and legs that were in her way, but reappeared a few seconds later, apparently dissatisfied with those she met.

"The Bible tells us many stories of fathers, but I'd like to bring up one in particular, one who I feel is often overshadowed by the son bestowed upon him. I'm talking about Joseph of course, the carpenter, the husband of Mary. Just as God chose a righteous woman to bear his son and raise him, so too did he choose a man to be his earthly father. But what does this tell us about…well, us?" Gabriel asked, pausing to let them consider this question. "It tells us that just as God chose an earthly father for his son, Jesus, he has chosen fathers for his other children. Us. He chose John and Leanne Aldridge to be Hayley's first mom and dad," he continued, gesturing to Hayley who sat at the front with the other children. "Just as he chose Anna and Michael to be her next mom and dad. He-"

Cutting him off, Judith let out a loud shriek of delight as she bolted down the aisle, drawing a sigh of exasperation from Rick and amused laughter from everyone else. Thriving on the attention, Judith was beaming as she flew past her father and dodged his delayed attempt to grab her. Just as it looked like she was going to keep running she slowed down to a stop, her attention having been captured by something behind her. To Carrie's surprise Judith was looking right at her, her big blue eyes fixed on the dress she was wearing. As though drawn by a magnetic force she slowly turned and came back, falling silent as she peered at the flowers. A low chuckle swept the church again, and at the front Gabriel was shaking his head in amusement.

Holding her breath, Carrie watched as Judith reached out and touched the fabric of her dress, and she wondered what she was going to do next. It had only taken three months, but by now Carrie and Judith were fairly accustomed to one another, although there was still a great deal of uncertainty that she felt about the little girl. Rick's daughter was a big deal, it was important that Carrie know her, that she understand her needs…that she know how to take care of her. She was slowly getting there, but she'd never had anything to do with children before the outbreak, babies in particular. She glanced up at Rick, seeing that he was trying to decide whether or not to get out of his pew and force Judith to behave, to maybe take her outside and let her run around. When they made eye contact Carrie gave him a nod of reassurance, despite not feeling completely certain that she had this under control. Moments later Judith was tugging on her dress with a low whine.

"She wants to get up," Tara whispered.

Taking the chance, Carrie leant forward and put her hands under Judith's armpits, relieved to see her looking happier now. Grateful she wasn't too heavy she lifted the child up and brought her onto her lap, breathing a mental sigh of relief when she happily settled. Rather pleased, Judith took a few moments to look at the painting on her cast before turning her attention back to the flowers on her dress. Doing the same thing, she admired the pretty yellow dress that Judith was wearing, one that Rosemary had made for her. Rick must have dressed her in it for the special occasion…it wasn't often he chose to put her in overly fanciful dresses, despite having quite the selection to chose from.

"It was no accident or chance that little Judy was born to Rick and his wife, it was no matter of luck," Gabriel continued warmly, politely rousing attention again. "The Lord chose them to be her parents, and he chose them for a reason."

It was rather pleasant to have Judith sitting on her lap, enjoying her gentle weight and company. She raised her head and looked up at Carrie, her cheeks flushed pink as she reached up towards her head. Somehow knowing what she wanted, she removed the sunglasses she had on and passed them to her, letting her take them in her hands and look at them.

"God's plan is infinite in its wisdom. Just like he did for Hayley, he chose Lori Grimes to be Judith's first mom, and he already knows who will be her next."

Carrie's heart seemed to skip a beat, for there was no missing the implication of what Gabriel had just said. It had of course occurred to her that as her relationship with Rick progressed and became increasingly serious, one day she would be expected to take the role of Judith's mom. With her imminent return and Carl's developing acceptance of their relationship, her new role for Judith was close on the horizon. What would be the parameters? What did Rick want or expect from her? _How did Carl feel about the idea_ _?_

Looking down at Judith, Carrie tried to reassure herself, knowing that she wasn't alone in this. Judith was Rick's daughter…it was up to him to determine what he wanted Carrie to be for her, what he felt his daughter did and didn't need. He wouldn't leave her alone to flounder in the uncertainty, he would be there by her side. Just as she started to feel a small amount of relief, Judith drew a deep breath and then sneezed loudly. She blinked rapidly, as surprised by her body's involuntary spasm as Carrie was, and when she turned to look up at her she revealed the long line of snot dangling from her left nostril. The outbreak had accustomed her to many types of bodily fluids, snot included, and though puke was the only thing she couldn't handle with dignity, Judith's snot made Carrie's stomach momentarily turn in revulsion.

Before she could even ask herself what she was going to do about this Rick was leaning across the aisle, holding out a wet wipe for her. Taking it gratefully, Carrie was reassured in her own belief that he would be there to support her as she developed a relationship with his daughter, with both his children. She quickly cleaned Judith up and then widened her eyes in surprise, for seconds later Judith gave a great sigh and leant her head against Carrie's chest. Despite having so recently been full of energy she seemed to take a few moments to rest, and she got comfortable before sitting quietly, bring her hand to her mouth and sucking her thumb. Pleasantly surprised, Carrie glanced back up at Rick again, knowing she would find him watching her. They shared a brief smile, but her own began to fade a little sooner than she liked. Carl too was looking over at her, and though he didn't seem displeased by the implications of what Gabriel had said about her and Judith, he didn't seem thrilled about it either.

"God chose your father," Gabriel continued speaking. "And in the same breath he chose your children. Yes, God also chose your children for you. Just as he chose Rick to be Carl and Judith's father, in the same breath he chose Carl to be his son, and Judith to be his daughter. He chose Mikey to be Nicholas' son, and he chose Courtney to be Kent's daughter." There was a brief pause, and then Gabriel continued, "He chose Pete to be Ron and Sam's father, just as he chose them to be his children. Each and every one of God's choices are made with us in mind. Your parents…your children…they are exactly who you need them to be, whether you know it or not, whether you trust it or not. Your needs, your path in life…all predetermined by him. God's plan for you is perfect, and your parents and children are part of that plan…there's no Plan B for God, because there doesn't need to be."

Carrie sighed to herself, feeling as though what had initially been warm hearted words of wisdom was now spoiled. This was what always got her about religion, the idea that God had a plan, that he did everything with people in mind. How was it a part of Ron and Sam's path in life to be abused by their father? How was anything that happened to the world part of some greater plan for them?

Tuning out of the sermon once again, Carrie readjusted Judith in her lap and looked over at Rick and Carl again, glad to see they at least were listening, that perhaps they were even getting something out of what Gabriel had to say. She knew their relationship had taken bit of a hit in the last few weeks, that Carl had come to learn his father wasn't perfect, that like everyone else he sometimes made poor choices. It was something that Carrie too had come to learn, that she had come to see in herself. It was easy to fall into the delusion that you were always right, that your beliefs and choices were the best to follow. Recently she and Rick had both fallen into this pitfall, he believing that he had to wait for the perfect time to tell Carl, and she trying to impose her own sense of right and wrong on him. They weren't the only ones who had suffered for that, Carl had too.

But now things had changed, and she wilfully acknowledged that Rick had been right about many things. He was right about the depth of Pete's grudge against him, and he was right about the fact that eventually, Carl would come home to him on his own. He'd repeatedly assured her that his son would call a truce with him when he had either punished him enough, or he needed something. The day he was attacked by the Wolves Carl found himself in need of his father's support, and so he came home. Rick knew his son well, and through that experience Carrie had learnt to trust him even more.

Catching her off guard, Judith suddenly lurched in her lap and lunged to the right. More interested in Tara who had been teasing her, Judith dropped Carrie's sunglasses with a loud clatter and climbed onto her lap instead. Though the baby's short attention span ought not to be taken personally, Carrie lamented her departure, feeling like she missed her already. Her lap felt void now, her hands empty even as she leant forward and picked up her fallen sunglasses. Perfectly content, Judith sat on Tara's lap and giggled as she pulled faces as her.

She glanced back to Rick once again, and by now he must surely be getting a crick in his neck. He had automatically turned around when he heard Judith making noise, but it was Carrie he made eye contact with. Smiling at her, he made her stomach flutter with butterflies, her heart warming as she held his gaze until he had to turn back around.

Not quite an hour later, Gabriel's sermon drew to a close, and though she'd been happy enough to attend because Rick had asked her to, Carrie was glad that it was over. It was nice to hear some of the things Gabriel brought up earlier, but as the sermon continued Carrie's ability to pay attention waned as boredom set in. As a low murmur arose now that the sermon finished Gabriel stepped down from the pew, smiling as he went to the children who sat together at the front, praising them for their attentiveness throughout. One who had been rather inattentive, Judith was still roaming the church going from person to person, but as people began to rise she returned to Rick and Carl. She looked at him urgently and pointed to the double doors, apparently indicating that it was time for them to go, but Rick simply pulled her up into his arms and settled her into his lap.

Wondering why he wasn't getting up, Carrie frowned for a moment and then realised. In front of her Pete was ushering Ron and Sam to their feet, their group being one of the first to filter into the aisle and begin to depart. Rick on the other hand was waiting for him to go, making the necessary concessions to prevent the two families interacting. Carrie watched as they left, her eyes mainly focused on Ron who still appeared sullen and displeased by everything. It had surprised her to hear that Rick was considering telling Carl the truth about Shane and Lori, that he had accepted the fact that he couldn't keep he and Ron apart forever. One day they would have to interact again, and despite his apparent agreement with Pete he still didn't seem to trust that Ron would keep the secret to himself. On that note, Carrie didn't trust that he would either. Having acknowledged this, Rick was right…it would be better for Carl to hear this news from his father than from someone who wanted to cause him pain.

When Pete and his children had left the church completely, Carrie, Tara and Eugene rose in their pew and began to follow, though at the last minute Carl darted out in front of them. He seemed exasperated, and he chased his sister down the aisle as she made a mad dash for freedom. She shrieked loudly as she evaded him, amused by the game.

"Judy! Wait!" he called in exasperation. "Get out of Brody's way!"

Chuckling, Rick followed him, but he slowed to a stop at the mouth of Carrie's aisle. There was a brief pause as they looked at each other, both struggling to hide their smiles.

"Did you learn something today?" he enquired politely.

"Oh, yeah," she nodded, noticing the way his eyes momentarily dropped to the front of her dress. "I learnt about…Joseph."

"And what did you learn about Joseph?" he teased, perhaps suspecting she hadn't paid much attention.

She hesitated. "He had a son…named Jesus."

Rick smiled in amusement, his eyes crinkling with mirth as he started to say something else, but he was abruptly cut off. "Heh-hem!" Eugene interrupted, ruining the moment.

Carrie and Tara both turned and looked at him, their eyes narrowing in annoyance. He seemed unconcerned that he was interrupting, and more concerned with what he might be missing out on outside the church. With a sigh she turned back to Rick and gave an apologetic shrug, but he didn't seem concerned.

"Thank you for coming today," he said sincerely.

At that he departed, but not before leaning over and pressing a gentle kiss to her cheek. Not bothering to hide her happiness she watched him go before following him out into the aisle, wishing that they had the opportunity to spend some time together that day. Ensuring she took the time to berate Eugene for his interruption she departed the church and emerged back into the warm sunshine on June, pleased by the progress the others had made with the set up. Two of their three gazebo's had been erected, while Abraham and Tobin were checking the seventeen foot trampoline that had been repaired earlier in the week.

Almost immediately Carrie was whisked away in order to help with other things, further separated from Rick who had followed his children towards the trampoline. As she hid her reluctant to help, reminding herself that today was for Rick to spend with his children, she contented herself with the progress that had been made thus far. Even as he physically restrained Judith from climbing the ladder onto the trampoline, Rick was glancing her way, sharing his exasperated smile with her. The worst of everything was over now, things were changing for the better.

Hearing Shelly calling for her help, Carrie turned her attention to the task at hand, hastening to join the others at the Pantry. As she departed, already mentally taking stock of the tasks at hand, she was unaware that she was the subject of more than just Rick's attention. From the shade of the trees Pete watched her as she went by, his face set into a darkening scowl of resentment.

* * *

A/N I'm very sorry for the delay in chapters, particularly given that they've been lacking in major action to keep you excited. A second chapter should be posted later this week. Thanks for your patience and reviews, I appreciate each and every one of them!


	51. Chapter 51

In no time at all the celebrations got underway, the Alexandrian's filing out of the church service and taking full advantage of the June sunshine. But while some began relaxing and enjoying the time with their families, others like Carrie did not, instead launching themselves straight into the work that was yet to be finished.

Consulting her list Carrie kept a mental tally of which cold beverages were being brought out and which were being saved for later in the day, wishing she had thought to grab a pen from the pantry. The lemonade, iced tea and punch were already set out, with Carter and Brody bringing out cases of beer before going back to get the adult's punch. All they would need now was the large cooler of water, which was going to need a generous helping of ice if it were to remain cold. Fretting about her only task, which was to serve an abundance of cold drinks, Carrie turned and looked around at the gazebo that was providing shade to the drinks area. A rusty brace had seen one side of it collapse, nearly sending three gallons of punch and lemonade crashing to the ground. It was nearly fixed now, Tobin standing atop a ladder while Carol cut pieces of duct tape and passed them to him.

Watching them from afar Carrie smiled to herself, glad that the two of them finally seemed to have taken their light flirtation up a notch or two. They'd been sitting with one another at church, and if Carrie wasn't mistaken she could have sworn she heard Carol giggle as the community made their way outside. It was pleasantly unusual to see Carol looking carefree and light hearted, for so often she seemed mildly exasperated by various things. Though they weren't doing much more than flirting right now, they sure did make a cute but odd couple. Tobin was just so tall…was that why Carol had been wearing heeled shoes lately?

Looking around elsewhere, Carrie set her eyes on Rick where he stood by the large trampoline, his arms folded and his shoulders tense as he watched his children. Judith lay in the centre of the mat, shrieking in delight as Enid and Carl bounced her up and down. Her laughter was infectious, the two teens happily entertaining her, though it seemed Rick didn't share their enthusiasm. Though he watched on in silence Carrie sensed that he was unhappy, that he was bracing himself for Judith to get hurt. Nevertheless he allowed them to continue, and then as he often did he cast his eyes around. It was a long held habit of many that you should apply constant vigilance, that you should always be aware of your surroundings, but that wasn't all Rick was doing in this case. He stopped looking around when his eyes fell on Carrie, and though he was a little too far away to be certain, she knew he was smiling. Appearing to watch her for a few moments, he gave a brief nod of the head and raised his hand to her.

"Carrie?"

Rosemary's voice startled her, and she jumped a little as she turned around. "Yes, hi," she said quickly, blushing a little. She glanced back at Rick, unsurprised to see that he was laughing at her, shaking his head before turning back to the trampoline.

"Sauces and condiments," Rosemary said, setting a tub of bottles and jars down on the table. "Could you set them out at the end of the last table…oh, and this place card too."

"Sure," she nodded, taking the place card and looking at it.

The words _'half a pickle per person - strict ration'_ made her feel uneasy. Though their crops were plentiful, they were indeed short on many of the rations left in the Pantry. The supply run to Georgia had brought back an abundance of supplies, but after three months and sixty mouths to feed, they were running low. Perhaps it was time for another extended supply run. Putting her concerns aside she set about the task, organising bottles of ketchup and sauce at the very last table. As she wiped over some of the nozzles she found her attention wandering again, her eyes cast about the community as she looked for Rick again. She couldn't help herself…she felt like a love sick teenager.

As expected, he seemed to be sharing his attention between his children and something else, though at the moment it seemed it wasn't her. Ever vigilant, he was aware of the threat of the Walkers and Wolves outside the walls, but also the problem inside. Every now and then he would cast his eyes over towards Pete, keeping an eye on him and his movements. Like the days previous Pete was behaving himself acceptably, though that didn't mean any concessions would be made. Pete was lucky that he had been involved in today's Father's Day celebrations, the allowance made only upon Jessie's request that he not be excluded.

With her mind on the same track, Carrie looked around for one other person in particular, finding Ron exactly where she had seen him last. He sat under a tree with his eyes glued to his iPod, Sam by his side and trying desperately to convince him to join in on the water slide. But Ron refused to participate, and he jerked his shoulder when Sam insistently nudged him. Soon Sam gave up, his shoulders slumped as he joined the others without his brother. Though Carrie acknowledged that as a child manipulated by an abusive parent not everything could be held against Ron, the more he stayed away from Carl the better. Ron was being cruel to Jessie, he had told Carl about Rick and Carrie's relationship…he knew about Judith's paternity too.

The sound of crying had roused Rick's attention, drawing it away from his watchfulness of Pete and back to his children. Carrie too followed his attention, watching sympathetically as he moved towards the entrance to the trampoline enclosure and opened it. Seconds later Judith was in his arms, tearfully holding her hand out and showing him something. He appeared to give some reassurance to Carl and Enid before dutifully peppering Judith's hand with kisses, comforting her as her tears began to die down. Lingering only to say something else to Carl, Rick and Judith promptly departed, and Carrie's heart sped up when they came over to her.

"Hey," he said, readjusting Judith who he carried on his hip. "You need any help?"

"No, thank you," she answered, giving him a warm smile. She gestured to Hayley and Courtney as they filled a cooler with ice. "My minions have it covered. What happened to Judy?"

"Nothing really," he shook his head, showing her Judith's unharmed hand. "She's just being precious, that's all." There was a comfortable pause, Rick holding her gaze. "If your minions have it covered here, come and sit with us for a while."

Carrie's heart swelled, and it was difficult to hide the small smile that came across her face. Nevertheless she hesitated, taking a moment to look down at her list and then at the kids. They were now shoving bottles and cans of beer into the ice bucket, Hayley bossing Courtney around and insisting the labels be facing up. There was a tense moment in which it seemed the girls might dissolve into an argument, Carrie fearing she might have to intervene, but a split second later they had it sorted.

"Come on," Rick encouraged gently, putting his hand on her mid-back. "They've got it covered."

Though she agreed, she still felt hesitation. "What about Carl?"

"He won't care," he assured her, gesturing towards the trampoline. "He's too busy wooing Enid."

She gave a brief chuckle at this, and trusting Rick's assurance that Carl wouldn't mind she nodded in agreement. "Alright. I'll be there in a minute. Can I get you something to drink? A beer, wine? Cosmopolitan?"

Though he rolled his eyes in exasperation, he nodded. "A beer would be nice, thank you."

She watched for a moment as he departed to find somewhere shaded to sit, her eyes raking him up and down. The kiss he'd given her as he left church had been perfectly innocent, but the one they had shared the other day on the watch post had been a little less so. It inspired a renewed sense of attraction, one that hadn't been gone during their separation, but had certainly been muted. Unable to help herself, she smiled as she dragged her eyes over his hips and then his ass. Wondering if he would continue wearing those long jeans through the heat of summer, Carrie turned away and wracked her brains as she tried to recall his preferred beer. As she turned her heart skipped a beat as she unexpectedly came face to face with a tall mass.

Before she could even comprehend it the tall figure was taking a hasty step back, the distance quickly revealing the person to be Pete. Though her defences were immediately raised, she quickly stood down when she noticed his apologetic demeanour. He appeared as surprised as she did by their sudden encounter, and he averted his eyes as he took another step back from her. Nevertheless she looked around hastily, noting that although Rick hadn't noticed the interaction, Rosita had. She was making her way over now, the scowl on her face indicating her displeasure.

"Sorry," Pete said quickly, clearing his throat and looking around. "I didn't meant to sneak up on you."

"Okay." She glanced back at Rosita and subtly raised her hand, indicating that she was fine.

"I just came to get some punch for Ron," he said quickly. There was a brief pause before he turned around and selected two plastic tumblers. As he filled them with the kid's punch he looked at her over his shoulder, still apologetic. "Sorry," he repeated to her as he left.

Watching as he headed over to where Ron sat alone, Carrie was surprised by his demeanour. His argument with Jessie that morning set aside in order to spend time what time he could with his kids, Pete was still on his best behaviour just as he had been earlier in church. As she watched him sit down alongside his son and stretch his legs out, she suddenly remembered something Rick had told her the other day, his reassurance that Pete wouldn't be a problem for them any longer. Apparently they had _talked_ , had reached an agreement to stay out of one another's way. Carrie had been skeptical about this at first, surprised that a civil conversation could be had between the two, but clearly whatever Rick had said had resonated.

"What did that _hijo de puta_ say to you?" Rosita asked suspiciously.

" _Rien_ ," she answered in French. "Nothing."

Rosita raised her eyebrow skeptically. "Nothing?"

Carrie nodded, assuring her. "He was just getting a drink for Ron, that's all."

Barely reassured, Rosita took a deep breath as if to settle her temper, her eyes trained on Pete. "I'm taking my post on watch," she finally said. "When they bring lunch around, can you make sure I get extra mustard?"

"Of course."

"And plenty of the garlic sauce," she added as she began to leave. "I need to keep Abraham at bay tonight, I'm not in the mood to deal with him."

When Rosita was gone Carrie lingered by the drinks tent only long enough to check on things, to ensure that Tobin had adequately duct taped the rusted brace and that all of the beverages were on the way. Deciding that the rest of them could take care of it, for today she didn't care if her contribution to the community was lacking, she filled a tumbler with some white wine for herself and then chose a beer for Rick. Increasingly pleased with the way the day was going, she made her way through the mingling people towards where Rick and Judith sat. Seeking shelter from the sun under one of the large cafe umbrellas, he sat on the grass with Judith perched on his knee while he rubbed suncream into her milky white skin.

"Yuengling?" she offered, holding the beer out for him.

He looked up at her in surprise, the corners of his mouth turning upward as he took it. "How did you know what beer I'd like?"

"I'm observant."

"Well, thank you," he said kindly, still looking up at her with that smile.

She felt a warm shiver go up her spine. Sometimes the way he looked at her made her feel like she was the only person in the world. Kicking off her heels she sat down on his right and then raised her tumbler. "Cheers."

"Cheers," he said, taking a sip of his beer before setting it aside. He resumed his former task, and as Judith tried to get up he gently wrestled her back onto his knee and continued rubbing the suncream into her skin.

"Are you having a nice day?"

"Yes, I am," he nodded, kissing the crown of Judith's head before wiping the excess suncream into his hands. "The kids are happy, people are having fun…Carl's waiting on me hand and foot," he added. "That's been particularly nice."

"I'm glad you're having a good day. You deserve it."

His subtle sigh indicated that he disagreed. "I'm not so sure that's true," he muttered, passing Judith some books and toys from her back pack. "But I'll take it anyway."

With great ease they settled into comfortable companionship, idle conversation passing between them as they watched the rest of the community preparing lunch. As they talked it suddenly occurred to Carrie that this was one of the few occasions that she and Rick were able to do so, that they could sit with one another and hold an actual conversation. They'd always known that they genuinely enjoyed one another's company, eager to listen to what the other had to say, but today it felt particularly special. As if the last month's events were just a horrible dream, there was now the sense of starting over, of getting a fresh start to their relationship. This was what they ought to have had from the beginning, the type of start they would have made for themselves if they hadn't made mistakes. Both of them had made mistakes, both had made bad choices and said cruel things they shouldn't have, but that was over now. This was their chance to start again, and it felt good.

As Judith played it was Rick she interacted with, him that she passed her toys to or showed him the handful of dirt she had scrounged up. But as she played she occasionally cast her eyes over to Carrie, scrutinising her as if wondering why she was back by their side after being absent. Following his daughter's gaze, Rick too was looking at Carrie, but for an entirely different reason. She watched his eyes as they raked down her bare legs, quickly darting back up to her chest, the cut of the dress only just modest enough to be appropriate for church. Just as she had hoped, he seemed rather appreciative of the type of clothing she so rarely got the chance to wear in this new world.

"Done yet?" she asked in a teasing voice.

He was unashamed that she had caught him gawking. "No, I'm not done yet," he confessed, smirking playfully. "I was having some very inappropriate thoughts during church today."

Carrie laughed, her eyes alight with mirth. "I've missed you too," she said, sobering a little. "I've missed kissing you…touching you…"

At this, Rick moved his beer into his other hand and then placed his over hers, letting his fingers stroke over her knuckles before turning her hand over and gently grasping it. They entwined their fingers and squeezed a little, the innocence of the gesture arousing happiness inside of her. He was a tactile person, the idea of reaching out to hold her hand coming to him so naturally, and slowly Carrie had learnt to return the tough he so eagerly gave. It hadn't been like that with her ex-husband, but with Rick she found herself craving his touch, longing to have his eyes looking at her whether it be innocently or with lust. And God, the way he would kiss her…she always knew a person could say a great deal with just a kiss, and it seemed Rick was well adept at that. His kiss told her so many things he wasn't accustomed to saying out loud. That he was relieved, that he was scared…hopeful.

"You've got dirty in your eyes," he accused.

"Yes."

There was a brief pause, the two of them holding one another's gaze before Rick slowly leant towards her, and it was with reluctance that she turned her face before he could do anything. The motion was enough to stop him, but she turned back before he got the wrong impression, hastening to explain.

"Carl's here," she said quietly, glancing towards the trampoline where he and Enid were still bouncing. The top of their heads could occasionally be seen bouncing above the safety enclosure, both of them cheering as Enid taught him how to do a front flip.

Understanding her misgivings, Rick gave a short nod as he pulled away, but not without reassurance. "He and I talked this morning. He's coming around."

Not immediately replying, she instead held his gaze as she thought about what he said, mulling it over. "He's okay with us?" she asked tentatively.

"I think he wants me to be happy…he wants _us_ to be happy."

"Even if that means you're moving on from Lori?" she asked gently, glancing at his wedding ring.

"I think that's the part he's still coming around to. But he's trying," he said. "For my sake at least."

"So he's not…mad at me?"

Rick shook his head, looking at Judith who was settling herself into his lap. "No, I don't think he's mad at either of us anymore. He, uhhh…" he muttered, raising his head and looking away as he tried to think. "He was more angry about being lied to, about the way he found out about us. We've worked that out now."

The still slightly bitter part of her said _I told you so_ , but there was no way she would ever voice that out loud to him, not now. She and Rick both knew that his insistence on waiting for the perfect time to tell Carl had cost them a great deal, that the way he had found out damaged their relationship, and his relationship with Carl. Repeating it now would be a disservice to the efforts they'd made to recover, and so she held her tongue.

"That's a relief to hear," she admitted. "I…I've been worried."

"I know you have," he acknowledged. Letting go of her hand he reached for her face instead, stroking her hair behind her ear. "You don't have to worry any more."

She nodded. "Thank you."

There was a brief pause, the two of them holding one another's gaze before Rick slowly leant towards her. Trusting him that this would be okay even with Carl around she let him sweep her into a lush kiss, not minding who else might see them. They'd never kissed in front of anyone before, but she agreed with what he must surely be thinking, that now was the perfect time for it. Feeling bold, she tiled her head a little and brushed her tongue over his lips, pleased when he responded in kind. It took everything she had to restrain herself as much as she did, for God knew she wanted to make some excuse to get him alone, to have him all to herself. It was with great reluctance that she broke their kiss with a long sigh, her hand coming to rest on his knee.

"That was nice," she said softly, her eyes darting down to his lips. She wanted to kiss him again, to indulge in the intimacy she longed for, but she erred on the side of caution. Carl might be coming around, but there was no need to flaunt the relationship in front of him.

There was a comfortable lapse in conversation now, Carrie mulling over what Rick had told her about Carl. She knew already that they had been back on speaking terms since the incident with the Wolves, that they had been working through the problems that had driven them apart, but it must have been only recently that they talked about their relationship. The implications of that were clear, and Carrie knew that it was now her turn to talk to Carl, to broach the subject with him. Things had been left badly between them, and though on one hand she got the feeling Carl was prepared for them to start on a clean slate, she was not. She owed Carl an apology, he deserved that demonstration of respect from her. Dwelling on this, she mentally prepared what she might say to him, rehearsing the words in her head. Feeling like she needed it, she picked up her tumbler and took a sip of her wine.

"Move in with me."

The suggestion broke the silence without warning, its abruptness making her cough as she hastily swallowed her wine. She looked around at him, her eyes widened. "Move in with you?"

"Yes."

She paused for a moment, considering the seriousness of his tone. "Well, I hope your bed is big enough for you, me and Carl."

Having the decency to chuckle at her joke, Rick brushed his hand over Judith's hair and then settled it on Carrie's knee, his touch welcomed eagerly. "Carl will have his own bedroom. You move into mine, and he can have yours."

Still she was not convinced. "Are you sure that wouldn't be too much for him?"

He shook his head, believing what he told her. "I think he's ready," he said with certainty. "He and I sharing, it started as convenience, there wasn't a lot of room for us to spread out. And it was about being close too, especially after everything…things are different now. He's starting to want his own space again, some privacy."

"He might be ready in that sense, but I meant about _us_. You and I sharing a bedroom, especially with Judy…will that be too much for him?"

To her relief he appeared to give her concerns due consideration, looking down at Judith who was fast asleep in his lap. "I think he's ready," he repeated.

At this they looked across the field to the trampoline, watching as Carl laughed at his most recent attempt to do a front flip. A part of Carrie was still uncertain, worried that the idea of she and Rick moving in together might be too much too soon for Carl. But despite her uncertainties she knew that she could trust Rick in this, that he knew how his son felt far better than she ever would. She moved her hand and settled it atop his on her knee, her touch getting his attention.

"If I move into your bedroom and Carl moves into mine, we might have to flip the mattress for him."

It took a moment, but slowly a smile began to grow on Rick's face, a full bellied laugh erupting from his lips a moment later. He seemed to shake his head to himself, but he nodded in agreement. "Given what's happened in that bed, it would be the polite thing to do."

As happiness welled up inside of her with their tentative plans, she leant over and brought her lips to his again, cherishing the brief kiss that sealed their plans. When she pulled back he raised his hand to her face, drawing her in with the request of another, and so she happily complied. It was all she could do to contain the joy that wanted to burst out of her chest, and when she felt him smiling against her lips she did the same. She wished that it wasn't Father's Day, that they could spend the entire afternoon alone together, selfishly wanting to have him all to herself.

"I love you," she smiled, glad when he murmured the words back to her. She had missed hearing those words as much as she missed saying them.

A comfortable silence fell once more, Rick and Carrie happily sitting in one another's company as lunch began being served. While everyone else collected paper plates and flocked towards the gazebos, they stayed seated on the grass, content to wait while the others went ahead. They talked occasionally, making light hearted observations about the charcoal smell that came from the barbecue Carter was manning, but for the most part they didn't need to occupy the silence with small talk. On the grass between them their hands were entwined, the innocent touch making her heart swell. For months now she'd been envious of couples like Glenn and Maggie or Abraham and Rosita, for surely they under appreciated their ability to hold hands in public. Something as small and simple as holding Rick's hand was something she'd longed for, and now she finally had it.

Just as she turned to him to voice this newfound pleasure, apprehension took place of her happiness. Tempted by the smell of the cooked food, Carl and Enid were slipping out of the tent enclosure and back onto solid ground, both of them laughing as they smoothed down their staticky hair. There was a brief exchange between the two before Enid went one way and Carl the other, Carrie's apprehension growing as he made his way over to them. Despite Rick's assurances that he was coming around to their relationship she still felt cautious about flaunting it in front of him, unsure of where they should be drawing the line. Automatically she let go of Rick's hand and moved herself an inch or so to the right, her retreat drawing his attention to his son's approach.

"Do you want me to go?" she asked. She didn't want to intrude on Rick's day with his children, not after everything that had happened.

"No, stay," he said firmly, placing his hand on her knee and looking her in the eye. "He needs to see us together."

Hesitating, she looked up at Carl. Now that he was closer she could see his expression more clearly, and to her relief he didn't appear mad or resentful to see her and his father sitting there together. He clearly hadn't noticed her presence before this, his attention having been focused elsewhere, and in fact he seemed nervous just like she. Nevertheless he showed no indication that he didn't want her there.

"I think he wants to break the ice," Rick told her quietly, taking his hand back from her leg.

Resigned to trusting Rick's judgement she took a deep breath and then nodded. She cleared her throat as she tried and failed to act naturally, and her anxiousness didn't ease up. This was the moment when her relationship with Carl would start, the moment that set the tone for how things would be going forward. There was so much to say to him at the moment, there were things she needed to apologise for, but she didn't feel completely prepared for it.

"Hey," Carl greeted her, his tone friendly and only a little uncomfortable.

"Hey," she replied quickly.

From the corner of her eye she could see Rick looking at her in mild amusement, his eyes glancing down to her lap where her hands were clenched together. She fidgeted when she was nervous, always needing to occupy her hands with a pen or something she could hold, but with nothing she was forced to clench. Fortunately the moment passed quickly, Carl wearily sitting down on Rick's other side before laying down in the grass. He lay forward so that he could still see Carrie, and as he rested his hat across his forehead to shield his face from the sun he started speaking.

"You playing baseball later?"

He was clearly speaking to her, not Rick, and so she took a sip of her wine and then answered. "I've offered to referee," she answered, her voice a little more confident now. "I'm not really dressed to play, and with my arm in a cast…"

Carl nodded, extending his arm and commiserating as he looked at the long line of stitches above his elbow. He wore a clear dressing at the moment, one she had seen Denise putting on him before he got on the trampoline. "Yeah, same problem here."

"You're not playing?

"No, I am. When I bat Dad's going to be my runner."

Rick blinked in surprise, and he flicked the brim of Carl's hat to push it back a little. "Is that so?"

"Yeah. Didn't I tell you that?"

"No, you just said you wanted us to play."

"Oh, whoops. Well I'm going to need you to run the bases. I don't wanna hurt my arm if I fall over or something."

Rick sighed in exasperation, turning to look at Carrie as if seeking her support. "That didn't stop you getting on the trampoline with Enid _,_ " he said when he turned back to Carl.

Carl didn't say anything at first, but if Carrie wasn't mistaken she distinctly heard him telling Rick to _shut up_ , his tone a little peeved. Unconcerned, he turned to Carrie and took one of her hands out of her lap, entwining their fingers. While Carl rested with his hat covering his face, Rick took a moment to give Carrie a nod of encouragement, the touch of his hand reassuring her that the initial interaction had been good. Sharing this conclusion, Carrie thanked him softly before taking a rather generous gulp of her wine.

"Carl. You know, I'm getting pretty hungry here," he said a few minutes later when the line for the food had shortened. When Carl raised his head Rick gestured to Judith who was asleep in his lap, indicating his predicament. "How long are you going to let your old man starve?"

Understanding what he was getting at, Carl sighed and rolled his eyes, but nevertheless he got to his feet. "Fine. What do you want, Carrie?" he enquired, putting his hat on and brushing the grass off his jeans.

She immediately shook her head, refusing his offer. "No, it's okay. You don't have to do that for me."

"What do you want?" Carl asked again, sounding exasperated.

Hesitating, she glanced at Rick as though seeking his permission. "A little of everything, please. Except the rice salad," she said added. "I saw Betsy making it, don't go there."

"Ketchup, mustard or barbecue sauce?"

"The Greek salad dressing."

Carl nodded and then turned to Rick as he started backing away. "Come midnight, it's not Father's Day anymore."

"Get yourself some salad," Rick instructed, ignoring Carl's immediate protest. "It won't kill you, have some."

Carrie managed to smile, their lighthearted banter breaking the awkwardness and helping her relax a little. It was a small relief to see the back of Carl, for him to briefly leave now that they had awkwardly broken the ice. Taking a few breaths she reassured herself that the worst was over, that she could handle this from here on out. She watched as he made his way over to the food tent and got in line, collecting three plates. It felt strange that he was getting her lunch, that he did it so willingly…was that what kids did?

"He had his first kiss," Rick said softly, he too watching Carl.

She looked at him in surprise, her smile growing. "That's…that's great?" she suggested, trying to gauge his feelings on the matter.

"That's terrifying," he admitted with a chuckle. "Carl and girls…this is uncharted territory."

"Did he tell you, or did you catch him?"

"He told me," he answered proudly. "He's freaking out a little. He can't figure Enid out."

"Oh?"

"Apparently, she made the first move, but then said she doesn't want to go out with him."

Carrie nodded, not surprised. "That makes sense."

This remark seemed to get Rick's attention, and he turned to look at her. "It does?"

Feeling the answer was obvious enough, she explained bluntly. "They're only young…Enid's barely fifteen, there's a lot for her to think about." She paused and took a breath, thinking for a moment. "She's probably worried that any feelings she has for Carl are one sided. Enid has her pick of any boy she wants, she can go with her feelings, but Carl? For him, she's the only girl around. She's probably worried that if he returns her feelings, it might only be because she's his only option. Then there's all the drama between Carl and Ron that she doesn't want to get in the middle of, and given that she's friends with both of them…"

Rick listened in awe, apparently surprised by her insight into a young woman neither of them really knew that well. For Carrie it came as no surprise that Enid might kiss someone only to pre-emptively prevent any reciprocation. Trying to remember it all Rick asked her to repeat her explanation once more.

"Don't tell him I told you this," he said lowly, glancing up as Carl progressed to the barbecues. "He'd kill me if he knew I'd told someone."

Carrie grinned. "Of course not. He'd never tell you anything he gets up to."

At this Rick gave a low groan, his shoulders slumping and his brow furrowing. A few moments passed before he groaned again, his expression falling even further. Despite this, Carrie grinned again.

"You're thinking about everything you got up to at his age, aren't you?"

"Worse. I'm thinking some of the things I didn't get up to, but _wanted_ to. Carl's got a little more charisma than I did, a little more suave."

Carrie let out a full bodied laugh, her shoulders quaking in amusement. "I'm sure that's not true."

"It is. For me, the awkward pre-teen years seemed to go on for quite a while."

"Well," she smiled sympathetically. "Obviously something changed. You got Lori…you got me."

"I'm a lucky man," he remarked. He looked at her fondly now, putting his hand back into hers. "Do you remember our first kiss?"

Her cheeks reddened. "I vaguely recall a state of intoxication and your hangover the following morning. But yes, I remember."

"Do you remember me rejecting you? How I chickened out?"

Her brow furrowed for a moment, and then she nodded. "Yes, I remember," she said lowly, narrowing her eyes at him. "I remember wanting to sink through the floor and disappear."

"Thank God you let me kiss you when I got the guts up."

He nodded in agreement, and though she could feel the moment calling for it, Carrie didn't kiss him. From the corner of her eye she could see Carl coming over, his arms laden with three plates of food he was too proud to make two trips for.

"You were right," Carl commented as he passed Carrie her plate first. "There's heaps of that rice salad left over. It stinks like vinegar, no one's touching it."

"Thanks," she said, gratefully taking the plate.

Handing a plate of food to his dad Carl resumed his place on his other side, Rick serving as a kind of buffer between he and Carrie. Though on one hand it was a relief they weren't sitting face to face, on the other it did make things feel a little more awkward, their arrangement not exactly facilitating conversation. Nevertheless they settled into a comfortable silence as they began eating, Rick precariously balancing his plate on his left knee. Moments later Judith began to rouse, her eyes fluttering open as she smelled the delicious meat and onions. Removing her thumb from her mouth she raised her head in interest, and then sat up.

"Hi," she said sweetly, eagerly looking at the plate. Carrie watched in amusement as she began helping herself to a piece of Rick's tomato, seeing the exasperation on his face. In recent weeks Judith had begun developing a most frustrating interest in food that was not her own, and it seemed her interest had not abated.

"So, Dad," Carl began, picking the olives from his small portion of salad and putting them onto Rick's plate. "Tobin said there's a Blackjack game on tomorrow night. Can I come with you?"

"Not a chance."

"But I know how to play. Noah was teaching me, Daryl too. I'm really good."

"And that's exactly why you're not playing. I won't have my fourteen year old wiping the floor with me. I have pride you know."

Despite the refusal, a slow smiled crossed Carl's face. "So you think I could beat you?"

Rick paused. "That's not what I said."

In no time at all they were talking like they used to, Rick sitting back and letting Carrie and Carl at leisure. Half an hour later with their plates empty and their stomachs full, the three of them sat in the warm sunshine watching from afar as the lunch service began setting out more food. Carrie had tried to get up and start helping, but a stern glare from Carol told her to stay exactly where she was, to keep up the positive momentum she and Carl were developing.

"You played baseball in college, right?" Carl asked. He leant back on his hands, his legs stretched out in front of him. With his foot he was playfully nudging Judith who still lounged in Rick's lap.

Carrie shook her head. "No, I played hockey."

"Really?" Carl smiled, raising his eyebrows in surprise. "That's cool. Mom and Dad took me ice skating a couple of times when we went to Atlanta, but I wasn't very good."

"I played field hockey, not ice hockey."

There was a brief pause, Carl quirking his eyebrows a little. "Not ice hockey?" he questioned, smirking at her. "I see."

Beside her Rick seemed to brace himself, a soft sigh escaping his lips. "Here we go…"

"I see?" Carrie repeated, mimicking Carl's tone. "What does _I see_ mean?"

"Well it's just, field hockey isn't really that cool."

"Is that so?"

"Yeah," he nodded unapologetically. "Ice hockey is cooler."

"Why?"

"It just is. It's a brutal sport. You gotta be tougher. Stronger."

"Wait, hold up," she said shortly, raising her hand. "So, field hockey is just for those too weak to play ice?"

Carl paused, considering this for a moment. "Well, I'm not the one who put it like that, but okay."

"You'll have to forgive Carl," Rick interjected. "We watched the Mighty Ducks this week and now he thinks he knows everything there is about ice hockey."

Carrie raised her eyebrows, unwilling to let him have the last word. "Field hockey is a tough sport too."

"Alright…"

"It is!"

"There's not even any body contact allowed," Carl argued passionately. "Your defence strategy can't be to slam into someone at full speed. Ice hockey is cooler."

"So? Collisions still happen, especially when you're running at full speed. Plus we don't have protective gear like ice skaters do."

"That's because you're playing on grass, not ice."

"You still get hurt," she insisted. "See these teeth here?" she began, showing him the right side of her lower jaw. "They're implants. I broke them when I took a stick to the face without my mouth guard."

Grinning, Carl leaned forward and looked. "Really? Cool."

"Another girl on my team took a stick to the face too, she fractured her cheekbone and had to have surgery. Now tell me field hockey isn't tough."

"Was she okay?"

Carrie shrugged. "She recovered, but she never looked the same again," she answered, picturing Leanne's face in her mind. "Thank God she was smart, because she sure as hell wasn't pretty any more."

Carl burst out into laughter, the raucous sound briefly distracting Judith as she got up from Rick's lap. "Okay, that's pretty tough. But it's still no where near as tough as ice hockey." There was a brief pause, but Carl eagerly filled it. "How long did you play?"

"All through senior high and college."

"You played for Dartmouth?"

She shook her head and then smiled. "No way, just a local team. I just played for fun, not for the competition. I played Netball and Lacrosse too, depending on the season, but hockey was my game."

"Why hockey?"

Pausing, she considered her answer. "I like to hit things."

Carl could barely contain his grin when he turned to Rick. "Hear that Dad? She likes to hit things," he warned.

"I'll keep that in mind," he agreed, listening intently.

"What happened to that hockey set you got at Walmart? Remember? On the supply run."

"It's in the storage shed," she said sadly. "I had to wait for my leg to heal, and then with my arm…I just haven't had the chance to use it."

"Maybe we'll play a game one day," he said nonchalantly, looking around to the food tent where people were lining up for second servings.

"If you think you can match me."

Carl scoffed, unconcerned. "Of course I can."

"Okay. If that's what you think."

A beat passed, and then he looked at her with his eyes narrowed. "I could match you…I could beat you," he stated boldly.

Carrie nodded politely. "Alright."

"I could!"

Continuing to tease, she gave him a condescending look. "You're way too small to take me on."

"No I-"

"You wouldn't stand a chance."

"I can take you on any time. I-"

"Carl," Rick finally interjected, cutting him off. "She's riling you up," he told him, looking at Carrie affectionately. "Very well, in fact."

"But sh-"

"Let her have the last word. She won't give up unless you do."

His eyes narrowed, Carl clenched his jaw and fell silent. Rather pleased with herself, Carrie just smiled and sipped at her wine and looked towards the food tent. Though she tried not to let it bother her, she felt her good mood depleting before she could do stop it. Near one of the barbecues was Nicholas, standing there with a beer in hand as he chatted idly to Michael and Anna. Undergoing a self imposed confinement, Nicholas had rarely been seen outside the home he shared with Paula and Mikey, ashamed of what had happened on his last supply run. No one was to blame for Aidan's death, but for Noah's? Nicholas was responsible for his absence in their lives, for the brutality of the death he suffered. He held no regard for the people who had depended on him, for those like Carrie and Glenn who he had left behind at the warehouse. That day had been Carrie's last supply run too.

Noticing where her attention lay, Rick placed his hand on top of hers and got her attention, a gentle squeeze bringing her back to him. She appreciated his efforts, but automatically her eyes were drawn back to Nicholas, her heart burning with hatred as she watched him. He shouldn't be here…he had no business sharing in the celebrations of the community he didn't deserve to be a part of. When she felt Rick squeezing her hand a second time Carrie forced herself to look away, turning back to him with a short apology. It wasn't necessary though, his kind expression indicating that he understood what she was thinking, that he too felt the same. Nevertheless there was nothing they could do. Deanna was the one who ensured he attended Aidan's funeral, and she was likely the one who invited him to the celebrations that day. As Rick started to say something he was interrupted, Enid's arrival stopping him short.

"Come help me with something," she told Carl, knocking his hat off his head as she passed.

Carrie and Rick watched in amusement as Carl practically leapt to his feet, sparing them a hasty farewell as he stepped over his empty plate and snatched up his hat. In seconds he was gone, catching up to Enid and falling into step beside her. Though he seemed uncertain of where they stood with one another, she'd never seen anyone move that quickly to assist a girl with a task of unknown nature.

"You're not worried about them going off on their own?" she enquired to Rick.

The slight lurch he made indicated that perhaps he was, but a few moments later he seemed to settle. He watched as the two teens headed down the road and disappeared around the corner of the townhouses, perhaps wondering where they were going and why.

"No," he concluded a few moments later, turning back to her and relaxing his shoulders. "He might have more charisma than me, but he's still my son."

"Meaning what?"

"Meaning that if and when something more starts to happen, he'll probably need a road map."

Carrie laughed, amused by his self-depreciation. "You never needed a road map with me," she assured him. "Just a little encouragement."

"Encouragement?"

"Yes. Encouragement to quit with the lingering stares and actually do something."

Chuckling, Rick nodded in reluctant agreement as he looked around, keeping an eye on Judith who had wandered over to where Betsy sat at a nearby table. Seconds later she was happily sitting on Betsy's lap, eating the food from her plate. Now his hand moved from on top of hers back over to her knee, his fingers moving over the bare skin as he looked back to her.

"Do you remember that night on the supply run?"

" _That_ _night?_ " she grinned, knowing what he referred to. "Yes, I recall that night in detail."

Holding his gaze, Carrie felt a warm shiver go down her spine as she thought about the night in question, the first time they had slept together. It hadn't been the best sex of their relationship, first times never were, but it had been perfect in the moment. They'd taken things slowly, trying to enjoy themselves rather than live up to expectations neither of them truly held. She didn't think about that night often, the early days of her time with Rick and the group feeling like they were so long ago, not almost four months.

"Now _you've_ got dirty in your eyes," she accused.

"Yes," he readily agreed.

He continued to hold her gaze, his lips parting as he started moving his hand away from her knee and up her leg. Instantly her heart rate accelerated, the subtle touch of his hand creating a not so appropriate response from her body, but it was one she couldn't afford to act on. Fully aware of their very public setting, Carrie held her breath as he moved his hand further around towards the inside of her thigh, daring to slip under the hem of her dress. The shameless part of her brain wanted him to keep going, a sudden throbbing eager to be relieved by his touch, but she shied and roughly shoved his hand away. Clearly feeling that he had won some kind of game, Rick laughed as he took his hand back.

"You're incorrigible," she scolded, though truly she didn't mind.

They kissed now, taking advantage of their brief time alone. As they kissed she summoned her self control and didn't let him deepen it, though her body was telling her to take more. It was a joyful state of being, Carrie having not felt this good in many weeks now. Things were working themselves out now, and all of the pain and heartache they'd been through was worth it. Remembering their very public setting she broke their kiss and pulled away apologetically, putting her hand on his knee as compensation. But to her disappointment he very quickly pushed it away, looking a little bothered as he shifted the way he sat. Ever observant, there was no missing the way he tried to subtly adjust the front of his jeans.

"Rick!" she burst out laughing, amused that she had such an effect on him. He grinned at her, not bothering to hide the way his eyes dropped to the front of her dress. She could see the lust in his eyes, but this was hardly the ideal time. "Rick, Carl's coming," she warned.

"He's not paying attention to us."

Despite making this assurance, Rick seemed to make a renewed effort to behave himself, admirably turning away from her chest and looking for his son. Carl and Enid had returned carrying a large roll of plastic sheeting for a water slide, its arrival eliciting cheers of excitement. Satisfied that he indeed wasn't paying attention, Rick turned back to her with a familiar smile, one she tried her best to resist.

"Do I need to distract you somehow?" she asked, gesturing to the tents where people were lining up for a second serving of food, a rare indulgence for their community.

"You sure know the way to my heart."

"Sex and food, I know," she said, batting away his hand that reached for her. "I've got the sex figured out, just need to work on the cooking."

Rick laughed again, reluctantly taking his hand back. "I'll cook, and we can make Carl do the cleaning."

Truly behaving himself now, Rick sipped at his beer and then cast his eyes around, checking on Judith who was still lapping up attention from anyone who would give it. A comfortable silence fell between them as they sat back and relaxed, watching Carl and Enid tried to organise the location of the water slide. They had set the plastic sheeting down with a sigh of relief, Enid rolling her shoulders back as Carl looked around with a frown on his face. Apparently dissatisfied with their chosen location he ushered Enid to help him with the roll again, but she refused. A few moments passed as the two teens looked at each other, Carl tilting his head before a debate broke out. He gestured wildly behind himself, compelling her to consider a different location, while Enid was resolute in her decision. Giving in but not giving up, Carl appeared to roll his eyes before picking up the roll unassisted, and though he staggered a little he carried it over to his preferred location.

"My God, he is wooing her," Carrie said in amusement. "Look at him showing off in front of her."

Chuckling in agreement, Rick watched them for a few moments more before turning his attention to Judith's back pack. Opening it he began hunting around inside for her swimsuit, and after tossing out half the clothing he gave a heavy sigh. "Carl," he called out, gesturing for him to come over.

Dragging himself away from his debate, he looked at Rick in exasperation. "What?"

"Did you pack your sister's swim suit like I told you to?" he asked, gesturing to the clothes strewn out of the bag.

"Yes," he nodded, looking at Enid over his shoulder.

"Well it's not here."

Turning back around he looked at the bag and furrowed his brow. "Oh…no, I probably forgot."

He shared an amused smile with Carrie now, and she could tell he was trying not to roll his eyes. "Did you at least put yours on underneath your jeans like I told you?"

"Uh, no," he answered distractedly, looking over his shoulder again. He started back to the others with the slide before stopping in his tracks and whirling around, looking as though he just remembered something important. "Could you go and get them for me?"

"You want me to-"

"Thanks Dad," he said before running off, protesting as Enid struggled to pick up the roll of plastic wrap. "What are you doing? Leave it there!"

"We have to move it!" she argued loudly. "The ho-"

"The hose will reach!"

"I'm telling you, it won't!"

Their argument continued, the younger children watching on anxiously, worried that their long awaited water slide would never come to fruition. "I swear it's like watching a shorter version of you," Carrie commented, thinking back to the way they sat together in church, each a spitting image of the other.

Having stuffed Judith's clothing back into the bag, Rick zipped it up and then pressed his lips to her cheek. "Come with me," he requested, taking her hand in his as he got up.

She looked up at him in apprehension. "Where to?"

"Home."

"Home?" she questioned, struggling to hide her developing smile. She knew exactly what he was getting at. "Are you sure that's a good idea?"

Finishing the last of his beer he stopped to collect her empty tumbler, and he nodded confidently. "It's the best idea I've had all day."

Still she was not convinced, despite how she felt her body longing to indulge in what he wanted. "You should be with your children," she told him, though already she was falling into step beside him. "It's Father's Day."

"Neither of them are going to miss me," he assured her, gesturing to Judith who was lavishing in attention from Erin and Betsy, and then to Carl who was still hotly contesting the length of a garden hose with Enid. "They won't even notice I'm gone."

He slowed to a stop for a moment, holding her gaze until he was sure he had her agreement, that she actually wanted this. Grateful, for he had never pushed her into anything she didn't want, she gave him a tentative smile. "He won't miss us?"

"You tell me," he challenged, gesturing to Carl.

She looked at him over her shoulder, filled with relief when she saw that Rick was right. The last thing she wanted was to intrude too greatly on a day he was meant to be spending with his children, but taking another look at Carl was all she needed to be certain she wasn't. His attention was on Enid, and having begrudgingly agreed to her instructions he was helping her relocate the plastic sheeting for a second time. Satisfied, she boldly stepped closer and brought her lips to his, not caring who saw their brief but passionate kiss.

They lingered only long enough to speak with Glenn, asking him to keep an eye on Judith while they went home to fetch her swimsuit, and if he suspected their ulterior motive he didn't say anything. With few cares in the world they left the celebrations and made the short walk home hand in hand, blissfully ignorant to the unwanted attention their departure drew from Pete.

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A/N - After all the many chapters of Rick and Carrie struggling to finally find happiness, I hope you guys are enjoying the long awaited pay off!

But don't forget...still 4 chapters to go...


	52. Chapter 52

A/N Okay guys buckle up because it's a long chapter with a couple of POV changes - I could have split it into two chapters, but given my delays in posting chapters I didn't want to draw this out any longer. Big thanks to Brent for helping with the spelling and grammar editing.

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Sitting beside Carrie that afternoon felt like a special treat, her company something he so rarely got to indulge in. It was nice the two of them simply being together, holding a conversation and then sharing a meal. Even Carl's arrival hadn't made things difficult, and aside from a few awkward moments when he first arrived everything was going just fine. The two of them were talking like old friends, as if nothing at all had gone so wrong between all three of them. It was a relief to not only have this first encounter over, but that it had gone so well.

The other day he had brought her coffee while she was on watch so that they could talk, and the kiss and embrace they shared was an unexpected bonus. Now that things were definitely back on track between them his desire for her was back too. It was rare that they found opportunity to dress casually these days, and the sight of Carrie wearing a short summer dress was most welcome. In an instant he wanted to go to her, to kiss her sweetly, to put his hands on her body either innocently or with lust, he didn't care which one. Even in church he couldn't help himself, and he constantly found himself looking at Carrie's body, lustfully admiring it.

In his heart he knew it was her that he had missed, their relationship, their potential…but when he saw her in that dress earlier it was an entirely different aspect that he missed. The last time they had slept together was immediately following Carl's discovery of their relationship, and they hadn't parted on the best of terms. At the time Carrie had used sex to avoid talking about the problem, fearful that she was going to say something cruel. Things had changed since then, and though sex had been the last thing on their mind the last two weeks, it was certainly making a resurgence recently.

Taking advantage of the conversation's tone, he had boldly moved his hand further up her leg, observing her reaction. He watched her take a breath and hold it, her leg twitching ever so slightly beneath his hand, but she made no protest. As his blood ran hot he dared to go further, her soft and smooth skin needlessly encouraging him. Reaching further around to the inside of her thigh he got his hand just underneath the hem of her dress before she cracked, pushing him away with an embarrassed laugh. It felt inevitable that they find some time to be alone together, that he manufacture a reason for them to leave with one another, and it was to his satisfaction that Carl gave him the excuse ready made. He must have told him three times that morning to pack his sister's swimsuit and to wear his own…he had never been so glad for Carl not properly listening.

It took some convincing for Carrie to come home with him, for although he could tell that she too missed the intimacy between them, she was trying to be sensitive to Carl. She didn't want to be taking him away from his children, not on Father's Day which Carl had so looked forward to, but there was no denying that Carl would not notice his absence. He was too busy with Enid, too busy trying to show off and act cool to be paying attention to his dad. Both eager for the opportunity to be alone after so long he and Carrie made the short walk home hand in hand, the rhythmic thud of her high heels on the asphalt providing a steady background noise. As they walked Rick brought their hands up and kissed the back of her knuckles, and then took a moment to admire her painted fingernails.

"Daisy's, huh," he muttered, looking at the delicate art that had to be Jessie's work. "Your favourite?"

"That's right. You might have to grow me some," she suggested, gesturing to the gardens as they passed Jessie's house.

"Mmmm, we'll see," he murmured. "I don't know if I can have something so delicate in my gardens."

"For me, you can suck it up," she said sternly, leaving no room for argument.

"I'll see what I can do," was his promise.

He kissed the back of her hand again and then leant over to kiss her lips, already longing to have her back in his arms. Stroking his tongue across her lips he gave a short moan of desire, but it came to an abrupt end when she roughly pulled away and started laughing. She had stumbled as they walked, and she grabbed ahold of his shirt to steady herself.

"Okay, I've had two glasses of wine," she said, her laugh trailing off into a shy giggle. "There will be no more walking and kissing at the same time."

When she returned to his side he put his arm around her waist, holding her close and slowing the pace at which they walked. It was excruciating to delay their return home, and so he appeased himself by kissing the side of her neck, taking no issue with walking and kissing at the same time. Sharing his urgency, Carrie took his hand and pushed it down to her hip and then lower again, letting him rest it on the curve of her ass. Finally they made it home, and the simple act of watching her step through their front door reminded him that this had all been worth it, that they had come through this together.

Unable to wait much longer he backed her up against the nearest surface, hearing a gentle thud as she leant her head against the front closet. Their eyes drifted closed as they began to kiss, joy rising inside of Rick's chest while his heart ached with relief. They had well and truly earned this happiness, having endured hardship most new relationships didn't have to, and they'd still come out the other side with love for one another. Now, their relationship was set to stay the course, their path laid out ahead and waiting for them to take it. For once it felt like everything was falling into place. Everything was exactly as it was meant to be.

"I love you," he said softly, the words coming with ease like they always did.

Her eyes alight with the same happiness he felt, she slowly smiled. "I love you too," she replied.

Letting her broken wrist hang by her side, she reached up and wound her good arm around his neck, pulling him closer against her as they kissed again. Understanding what it was she wanted, and sharing the same desires he gladly acquiesced. There was no point in playing around, no reason to take things slowly, yet he took the time to appreciate what they had. She moaned softly as their kiss deepened, his tongue gaining entrance into her mouth as he began urgently lifting her dress. Hands trembling, he reached down and stroked the back of her legs, kissing her with everything he had.

They broke their kiss in order to catch their breath, Carrie's head falling onto his shoulder as she panted. She clung to him, her fingers clenched into the collar of his shirt as she urged him closer, pressing her body against his. There was a moment in which she seemed to tremble, her balance wobbling as she parted her legs just a little, and it was this motion that told him what she wanted next. Nothing between them had changed, he read her cues as easily as he used to, and so he reached under the front of her dress this time. She muttered her approval as he slipped his fingers inside her, and she kissed the side of his neck before raising his head and kissing his lips. Almost as if he was getting to know her all over again he lazily let his fingers caress her, his own body flooded with arousal as his mind wandered.

"Rick…" she began, panting as she trailed off breathlessly. "I want you. Now."

Her words easily penetrated the heavy fog of arousal that occupied his mind, the suggestion being highly welcomed. "Yes," he hissed, thoroughly agreeing. Removing his hand from between her legs he hastily pulled her dress back down for her, a slow chuckle growing in his throat when he looked to his right.

"What is it?" she asked, lowering her arm from around his neck.

Pressing his lips to her jaw, he reluctantly took a deep breath and then stepped away. His attention having gotten away from him they had left the front door wide open, and he was grateful that no one else was around. Impatient, Carrie reached over and gave the door a push, bringing his attention back to her as it slammed shut. Her sense of urgency only compounded his own growing need, and so it was without protest that he allowed her to take him by the hand and lead him towards the stairs. Catching a tantalising glimpse up the back of her dress as he followed her, his worries and concern about everything else in their lives faded just as they always did.

On one hand it felt like any other time that they came upstairs to be alone together, but today brought with it a hope neither of them had felt for a long time, a happiness that they feared they might never share. As they crossed the upstairs hallway Carrie kicked off her high heels, their absence lowering her height back to what he was used to. A little tongue tied, he chose not to comment and instead closed her bedroom door behind them.

"God, I've missed the way you touch me," she gasped as he slipped his hand into her underwear again. Her eyes fluttered closed as he began stroking her, her head lolling forward to rest on his shoulder. "I've missed you so much."

"Same."

Not caring who saw the result he pressed his lips to the crook of her neck and sucked, pleased by the way her breaths quickened. She squirmed a little, her fingers digging into his shoulder, but she didn't protest. A shudder swept through her body as he scraped his teeth over her skin, and she finally pushed him away with a clumsy motion, the bump of her cast against his temple reinforcing this. Her kiss was fierce and demanding as she took what she wanted from him, her hand clenched tightly in his hair before lowering it to his hips. In seconds his duty belt fell to the floor with a loud clatter, feeling her hand on his ass as she safely tucked away the leather loops that secured it in place. His mind was spinning, his body feeling like he'd float away if he didn't have her there to anchor him to the ground.

Feeling they'd waited too long already, he hiked up her dress and then hooked her underwear around his thumbs, hastily pulling it down and helping her step out of it. As he rose back to his feet he kissed his way up her stomach, her slight tremble of anticipation invigorating him even more. Panting softly, her chest rose and fell as she hastily opened the buttons on his shirt, her eyes glinting as she opened it and ran her hand across his chest. Moments later she was kissing him again, her plaster clad arm winding around his shoulder to hold him close. Heeding her request he followed when she sank down onto her bed, gladly letting her pull him on top of her. Though at first he had highly approved of her choice of clothing he felt a little less pleased when he struggled with her dress, trying to pull it up and over her breasts but to no avail. Noticing his struggle Carrie grinned at him, taking pity and sitting up.

"You like it?" she enquired sweetly, reaching for her left side and opening a hidden zipper. "I wore it for you to look at."

"I'm looking," he muttered lowly, sighing when she successfully pulled her dress up and over her head.

She hadn't been wearing a bra, and unable to help himself he turned straight to her breasts and laved them with attention. How could he have forgotten how much he enjoyed her body? How could he have forgotten the sound she made in the back of her throat each time he did something that made her feel good? The memories came rushing back to him the more he touched her, compelling him to do more, to create more pleasure for her. Gently squeezing and massaging her breasts he swirled his tongue around her nipple and sucked, eagerly moving to the other one next. Her reaction was exactly what he anticipated, a heady breath filling her lungs as her knees parted to accommodate him between them.

"God…" she gasped, her eyes fluttering shut as they lay down again. "Rick."

Taking his time despite the urgency of his own desire, he lavished her breasts with the attention he felt they deserved, his heart momentarily skipping a beat when he felt hers pounding against her ribs. It beat with a steady rhythm, inspiring him to bring his lips to her sternum next. There he could feel her pulse against his lips, could feel the rumble of her breaths and her voice as she spoke.

"Rick, come on," she said, her voice heavy with need.

Denying the immediate relief they both desired he leisurely kissed his way down her sternum towards her soft belly, liking the way she grasped his hair in protest. Brushing her hand away he ran his tongue around her navel piercing and then tugged on it, relishing in the sudden way her hips lurched up against him. She was completely naked beneath him, not a stitch of clothing on her while he was still fully dressed, and he couldn't help but love the contrast.

"We don't have the time," she told him urgently. "We can't draw this out."

Confident that they did have time, Rick only half heard her weak protests. He raised himself up on one hand and looked down at her, his fingertips trailing down her stomach and watching the eruption of gooseflesh on her skin. "Yes, we can," he insisted, pressing his palm against the peak of her legs. He looked up at her and waited for eye contact, holding it when she gave it to him. "We deserve this."

Without wasting more time he wound his arms around her thighs and lowered his mouth between them, pleased by her throaty sigh. It was exactly what he wanted to hear, the trembling of her legs exactly what he wanted to feel.

"Yes," Carrie hissed out, her hand moving to the crown of his head despite her earlier protests.

Eyes closed and her chest heaving, Carrie's face was taut with tension, her breathing slow and methodical as she tried her best to relax, to enjoy what he was doing for her. He knew her well, he understood that the fear of their absence being noticed was in the back of her mind, and so he stepped up his game a little. Releasing her legs he let his fingers slip inside her, his other hand reaching behind her hips and encouraging her to rock up against him, to take what she needed.

Watching her, he felt the satisfaction that came from the way her features began to relax, the tension fading away as she began to enjoy herself. Gauging her responses and sticking with what got the best reactions he kept going, his erection throbbing painfully in anticipation of what was coming next. He wanted so badly to just sink inside her, to take her over and over until he found his release, but he knew it wouldn't be enough, that it wasn't what he was really seeking. Instead he concentrated on her for now, satisfied with the way her breathing sped up, her stomach rising and falling as she squirmed beneath him. She sighed as she ran her hands over her torso, squeezing and cupping her breasts, something he was no doubt meant to see and appreciate. When she opened her eyes and saw him looking up at her she grinned devilishly, but moments later her head fell back onto the bed.

"God," she breathed, her hips lurching upward as her hand reached for his head again. "Yes, that feels good…keep doing that…"

Heeding her plea he kept going, maintaining the exact motion that was working for her, and his efforts were rewarded a short while later. There was no need to be quiet, and Rick welcomed the strained moans that escaped her throat when she came, welcomed the way her body trembled and rocked up against him. He felt her tugging on his hair, her body fighting between pushing him away and holding him closer, but after so long together Rick knew what she needed. He kept going, pushing her to let go even more and relenting only when she gave the familiar signals. She released a heavy breath and stretched out her legs, the tug of his hair indicating that she'd had enough.

She was lax beneath him, her heart pounding as he kissed his way back up her stomach and laved his tongue around her taut nipples. Enjoying the way she sighed and ran her hand up his arm and into his hair, Rick lingered as he was, letting her relax and come down from the high. They kissed softly now, Carrie still trying to catch her breath as Rick settled his body down on top of hers. Pausing to let her breathe he pressed his lips to her jaw as he tried to clear his head, to push past the rush of desire that threatened to overwhelm him. He wanted her so badly right now, wanted nothing more than to sink inside her body, but he waited. Finally he heard a familiar sound, the soft but joyful laugh that she often made after a particularly good climax. He raised his head from her neck and found her rubbing her hand over her face, her eyes closed and her lips parted around a smile. As if awakening from a trance she opened her eyes and grinned at him, promptly seizing a handful of his hair and bringing him to kiss her again.

"God, I've missed you," she repeated happily.

Echoing her grin Rick sat up on his knees, taking a moment to admire her from above as he untucked his shirt from his jeans. The routine familiar and easy he opened the buckle of his regular belt and removed it, while she twisted around beneath him and opened her nightstand drawer. Momentarily distracted, Rick lowered his hands to her hips as she fumbled around in the drawer. His erection was most uncomfortable by now, his brain urgently telling him to get on with things, but he waited patiently and indulged himself, letting his hands roam her soft skin, one drifting around to her ass to stroke the tattoo that often embarrassed her. Distracted as he was, it took a moment for him to notice that something was wrong, that she had gone still beneath him.

"What is it?"

Leaving the drawer open she turned onto her back and looked up at him, looking a little apprehensive. "W-we're out of condoms," she said heavily. "I never got any more…I forgot."

"What?" he muttered in disappointment, leaning over and taking a look himself. "We don't have anything else?"

She shook her head apologetically, moving a little so that she could sit up beneath him. Not helping the situation she rested her hands on his lower stomach as she waited for him to say something, her touch making it more difficult to form a coherent thought. For a long moment he stared at the nightstand drawer and waited for the contraception to magically appear, while in his head he weighed up the options. There would be no other condoms in the house, though there'd be plenty next door, and even more in the Infirmary, they just had to go and get them. He waited for her to say something, and when she didn't he found himself speaking, the irresponsible suggestion coming out of his mouth before he could think twice.

"We can risk it. Just once…"

Despite her wariness, Carrie nodded without hesitation. "Yes," she eagerly agreed. "I can see Denise later."

Kissing her in gratitude, he stroked his tongue over her lips until she opened her mouth and kissed him back. He waited only until her broken wrist was comfortably resting on a pillow before he quickly resumed his former task of undressing, his fingers fumbling in his haste. He kept his eyes on her, unable to look away from the beautiful sight she made below him. Her skin was flushed pink, her body still shaking as she ran her hand across her face and through her hair, patiently waiting for him. When she saw him watching her she gave an embarrassed smile, but her embarrassment faded quickly.

"Your shirt," she requested softly, watching as he lowered his jeans.

He did as she asked, letting the white linen shirt fall off his shoulders before laying back down over her. She reached for him automatically, winding her arm around his neck and holding him close as he settled his body over hers. Sliding himself inside her felt perfectly natural, the motion coming easily to both of them, but today it dredged a ragged groan from his chest, one he couldn't stifle. Eyes drifting shut he let his head fall onto her shoulder, catching his breath as he resisted the strong urge to start moving - he wouldn't last two minutes if he did that now.

Having always taken precautions he'd never felt her body like this, he'd never felt the sheer warmth and softness of truly being inside her, the profound intimacy taking him by surprise. Without even looking he could tell that she was experiencing the same thing. He could hear the soft whimpers she made in the back of her throat, he could feel the way her body was quickening around him as she tightened her knees against his hips. Revelling in the moment he stayed still, moving only to run his hand up and down the side of her waist, the motion giving him something to concentrate on, to distract himself.

"You feel so good," he growled under his breath.

He pushed himself further inside her, unable to stop himself, and he revelled in the way the breath caught in her throat. Unable to speak, Carrie could only nod her head in agreement, a slow breath escaping her lips. A few moments passed before she suddenly pressed her hips up against his, a clear request that he start moving and one he was willing to oblige. Determined to last for as long as possible he started out slowly, taking the time for them to both enjoy the moment, to gauge what felt good. It took all the control he possessed to restrain himself, his muscles tense and a sweat breaking out on his hairline.

Her arm tightly slung around his neck, Carrie was holding him closely, but her head was turned and her eyes clenched shut. If he didn't know her so well he might have worried that she was in discomfort, but he could tell it wasn't the case. He knew what she was doing, that she was trying to pull away from the emotional intimacy, but he wouldn't let her. She'd tried to do this once before, the first time they'd slept together after Noah's death, after they'd confessed how they really felt. Now, the culmination and recovery of their relationship was emotional enough already, but the thought of beginning their future together was terrifying in the most perfect way. Rick wasn't shying away from that, and he wouldn't let her either.

"Carrie," he panted, repeating her name until she opened her eyes and looked at him. "Stay with me here."

She nodded, swallowing around a lump in her throat. "I'm here," she managed to reply, her voice unsteady.

"Look at me," he requested, stopping her when she tried to turn away again. "Carrie, look at me."

Rewarding her with a soft kiss, he rested his forehead against hers and held her gaze, their closeness allowing them to share breaths. Slowly her ragged breathing began to even out, his deep sighs helping her regain her control, to bring her back to the moment rather than trying to disengage. She looked up at him as requested, her face a wide open book to the emotions she was feeling, the love and adoration having been overwhelming her. Very slowly her features relaxed, a gentle smile beginning to form on her face. Almost as if awakening from a daze she seemed to come around, her eyes widening and her chest expanding as she took a deep breath.

"You're okay?"

"Yes," she assured him, her voice steadier now. Unwinding her arm from around his neck she ran her hand through his hair and then down the side of his face, stroking his short stubble. "Oh God, you're right…this does feel good."

"Look at me," he said again when her head fell back with a soft moan.

She did so obligingly, but he took a moment to readjust his position, reaching up and cradling her head in his hand. Having faltered for a moment he started thrusting inside her again, still maintaining the slow and steady pace that was allowing him to control himself. They held one another's gaze again until Carrie's lower lip began to shake, her brow furrowing as she looked down to where their bodies were joined. She opened her mouth to say something, but it seemed to take a few moments for the words to come to her.

"D-do that thing…where you…uhh…"

Knowing what she was trying to say, he readjusted his position again and began rolling his hips against hers, the effect on her instantaneous. Her lips parted in a gasp of delight, her body beginning to shudder, but this time she didn't take her eyes away from his. There was silence except for the sound of their movements, her gasps of delight inaudible as she rocked up against him, meeting the motions he made. The urge to thrust in and out of her body had never been as strong as it was now, and when she grasped his hip as a cue to go faster Rick allowed his self control to lapse and his body to take over. It had taken everything he had to hold himself back and wait for her, the physical need to find release almost too much for him to bear.

Finally he felt her body clenching around him as she reached her climax, her breaths becoming a high pitched whimper as she held him tightly to her. To his surprise she looked up at him as she came, letting him hold her gaze when they both normally would have looked away or closed their eyes. He watched her in awe, having never truly appreciated the way she looked when she came, the way her expression changed. Today she looked up at him, her brow furrowed and her lips parted around the gasp of his name. He knew that she could have a stronger orgasm if he worked at it a bit longer, one that really made her eyes roll back and her body writhe, but he was too far gone today, his own need too strong to keep at bay any longer.

"Fuck, yes…" he groaned loudly, unable to help it. "Yes, Carrie…"

He thrust harder inside her, and then the warmth and tightness of her body became too much, the rush of pleasure hitting him all at once. There was no way he could have stifled the ragged groan he made, her name falling from his lips. As he groaned she reached up and cradled the side of his face in her hand, holding him in place and forcing him to look at her the way she had looked at him. She was smiling in exaltation, and she rewarded him with a long kiss as the pleasure subsided and he began to relax. He was shaking as his movements slowed, his body heavy with exhaustion he carefully lay down on top of her. Allowing his eyes to drift shut he rested his face in the crook of her neck, panting heavily while he recovered.

There was peaceful silence but for the sound of their slowing breaths, and though he would have liked to stay exactly where he was, to fall asleep with his erection softening inside her, instinct told him not to. He didn't feel alarmed or ill at ease, but there was something that told him to sit up, and he quickly found the strength to do so. He slowly pulled himself out of her body and pushed up to his knees, his hands resting on the top of her legs as he looked down at her. The reason his instincts had roused him was immediately apparent, and he managed to see her face just as she hastily wiped her cheeks and turned away. Her eyes were wet with tears, her stomach quivering as she tried to catch her breath. Giving her a few moments to herself he waited patiently, and when she saw him watching her she reddened and looked away again.

"Sorry," she said quickly, her voice a strained whisper.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing. I'm being stupid."

He let silence linger for a few moments, but only a few. "Carrie," he prompted her again, rubbing the front of her thighs.

Still appearing embarrassed, she cleared her throat and took a deep breath, but when she looked up at him she was smiling. It was a genuine smile, one that reached her eyes. "I'm just," she started slowly, trying to find the right words. "…happy."

Allowing himself a moment of relief, he echoed her smile. He rubbed the top of her legs for a few more moments and then brought her knees together, ushering her onto her side as he lay down behind her. It felt wonderful bringing their bodies together again, and he kissed the back of her shoulder as he began to speak. "You're happy?"

"Yeah." Turning a little she looked at him over her shoulder, her head tilting up and requesting his lips. They shared a light kiss and then she continued. "I want to start our life together."

"Me too."

When he reached up and brushed the wetness from her cheeks she gave an embarrassed laugh, turning away self consciously. "I'm sorry. I'm being stupid."

"Don't be sorry," he insisted, prompting her to turn back to him again. He looked at her in awe, seeing the future of his family right there in front of him. With a brush of his hand he pushed her hair off her face so he could see her properly, and he held her gaze. "Marry me."

The surprise that crossed her face was almost comical, her eyes widening as she tried to comprehend the suggestion that came out of no where. He continued before she could say anything, wanting to explain.

"Marriage still means something to me. If it still means something to you, then marry me one day."

There was a pause as she digested this, and he could see her thinking, taking it all in. "One day?" she asked, questioning it.

"Tomorrow. In a week. In a year. One day…that's all I want."

There was a long pause, but there was no hesitation evident on her face. "One day," she promised him sincerely, leaning back to kiss him.

Satisfied with her answer, he met her lips and kissed her sweetly, neither of them feeling the need to deepen it much more. A few moments passed in comfortable silence, and it was only when he felt her skin erupting in gooseflesh that he figured they ought to return to reality. Delaying it for as long as possible, he twisted around behind her and brought his left hand up, using his thumb to push his wedding ring off his fourth finger. When Carrie saw what he was doing she turned around quickly, reaching up and clenching his fingers in her hand.

"You don't have to do that for me," she said softly, looking him in the eye. "It doesn't bother me."

He nodded, grateful for her understanding. Only that morning Carl had brought up the fact that he still wore his wedding ring, that by now he ought to have removed it. He had claimed he wasn't yet ready to take it off, that he wouldn't be ready until his relationship with Carrie was back on track. In the space of a few short hours that had changed. His ring was no longer something that Lori had given him to signify their marriage, it was a reminder of a past he was ready to move on from. For the first time ever he didn't feel the need to have it on his finger.

"I think it's past time," he told her honestly. "Besides, I know what to do with it."

"Are you sure?" she asked, releasing his hand only when he nodded.

Her eyes moved towards the silver band, watching as he removed it completely. Wanting no more of this conversation, Rick clenched the ring in his palm and then wound his arm back around her waist. A content silence came to pass, and he took note of the time only to ensure that they hadn't been gone longer than expected. Kissing the back of her shoulder he closed his eyes and then relaxed, rejoicing in the touch of her naked body against his, the intimacy of their embrace. Everything was exactly as it should be right now, everything was falling perfectly into place. Though he wished it could, their time alone had to draw to a close sooner rather than later. Just as he felt his mind drifting peacefully Carrie moved onto her back, her good hand reaching up and stroking the side of his face.

"Rick," she whispered. "Carl will be wondering where you are."

Though he disagreed, feeling that Carl's attention was on Enid more than him, Rick reluctantly nodded. With a brief kiss to the back of her shoulder he let her get up, his hand tracing over the scar she had on her shoulder blade from a horse riding accident. She stepped away from his touch, scolding him even though she wasn't bothered by his tactile nature. As it began to fall she took his hand in hers, giving it a brief squeeze before she hastened to collect her clothing. Finding where her dress had been tossed aside she snatched it up and fumbled to turn it in the right way, and he watched her in longing before he too sat up and began redressing. He wanted them to stay there for the rest of the day, to shirk his responsibilities and the celebrations. It was unfair that their time together was over so soon, that they had to go back to their day as though nothing had happened.

"Hurry," she told him, raising the zip on the side of her dress before heading into the adjoining bathroom. "And don't forget their swimsuits."

She stooped to afford him a kiss, one that was too slow and lush to help him keep his desire for her at bay. With reluctance he let her go, watching as she disappeared into the bathroom and closed the door. It was with a long sigh that he got to his feet and finished redressing, shrugging on his shirt and then tucking it in like it had been before. Once he had his duty belt back on and securely fitted he felt organised once again, ready for whatever the world was going to bring him next. Taking care with it, he opened one of the pouches and then slipped his wedding ring inside, listening the the clinking sound as it touched the cold metal of his speed loader. It would be safe for now, and it wouldn't need to be there for long.

Making a small effort he straightened the comforter on the bed and then snatched up Carrie's underwear from the floor, tucking it into his pocket with the knowledge she would come looking for it. Going about the task he had actually come home for he rifled through the closet and found swim suits for Judith and Carl, tossing them onto the bed before heading into his own bathroom. A quick glimpse in the mirror indicated that this was a good idea, the bright red smears of Carrie's lipstick across his face a dead give away for what they had been up to.

"Derrick Grimes," Carrie called out, letting herself into his bedroom as she looked for him.

Taking note of his full name, Rick struggled to keep a straight face as he washed off the red lipstick from around his mouth. Moments later she appeared in the open doorway, her heels clicking loudly against the tiles.

"Where are they?" she asked with a poorly concealed laugh.

"Where are what?"

"My underwear." Coming straight in she reached for the pockets of his jeans, but he playfully moved and kept her at bay. "Rick!"

Taking pity on her quickly, he turned off the running water and looked at her fondly. Content to give them back, he smiled as he brought his lips to hers and kissed her sweetly. She returned his kiss in kind, but she patted down his pockets at the same time and yanked her underwear from his back pocket with a flourish.

"I knew you had them."

"No, come on," he pretended to whine, watching as she slipped them back on.

"I can't go back there without underwear!"

"Why not?"

"I'm wearing a dress. There's a breeze…and children!"

Laughing in agreement, Rick finished up and then followed her out, collecting the swimsuits as they went downstairs and departed, taking some beach towels from the linen press as they went. Emerging back into the sunshine and making no effort to hide how happy and carefree they felt, they walked hand in hand back to the community celebrations, though they chose to take a longer route around the walls. Taking advantage of the genuine explanation for their extended absence, they passed three of the watch posts and checked in with those there, checking up on Daryl on the north, Abraham on the west and Stacey on the south. With the eastern post being within sight of the celebrations they didn't concern themselves with checking on Rosita, and as they passed the solar panels and crossed the street behind the townhouses they shared a long kiss. Carrie giggled against his lips, stumbling a little thanks to her inattention, but when she pulled away her face fell.

Following her line of sight Rick looked up the street to his left, his hackles raised immediately when he saw a lone figure standing at the rear of the Infirmary. Pete stood in the centre of the road with his hands in his pockets, shifting his weight back and forth between his feet as he apparently waited for someone. Cautious not to overreact Rick waited to see someone else, certain that there had to be someone else with him. It seemed Pete had noticed him first, his head tilted a little as he looked down the road at Rick and Carrie. Though his demeanour gave nothing away, Rick was far from pleased to see him there alone.

"Wait here," Rick requested of Carrie, letting go of her hand and then passing her the towels and swimsuits.

She did so without protest, but Rick had made it barely five steps towards Pete before he slowed to a stop, realising that he had overreacted. Errin and Courtney were emerging were emerging from the Infirmary's rear door, Courtney sporting a white dressing on her hands and knees, her face tear stained. She was walking gingerly, trying not to bend her knees as she woefully expressed her sadness about no longer being able to play on the water slide.

As Errin and Courtney began making their way back up the road, Pete stayed where he was for a moment, staring Rick down as if daring him to question why he had departed the celebrations. Knowing that he had nothing to protest against, for in reality Pete was not lacking in supervision right now, Rick stood down. He knew when to pick his battles and when to leave things alone, and though he and Pete had a renewed understanding with one another, he didn't need to antagonise him. He needed to do his part in keeping the peace, to ensure Pete didn't have undue reason to act out.

Not sparing him a nod of acknowledgement, Rick turned away and went back to Carrie, his hand automatically drifting to her waist as they fell into step with one another. She didn't question what had just happened, having some understanding of the fact that he and Pete were playing nicely once again, and there was no need to explain in more detail. Though their good mood was ever so slightly dampened, Rick was determined not to let it sour the rest of his afternoon, feeling that he had better things to think about than Pete Anderson. Nevertheless he took a moment to glance over his shoulder before turning the corner, ensuring that Pete was following Errin back to the celebrations.

At Jessie's request Pete had not been excluded from the celebrations that day, and the abundance of people to keep an eye on him served as the supervision that was normally from a dedicated guard. It wasn't a strategy Rick was entirely comfortable with, fearing that having many of them responsible might mean that they pass the buck. He'd brought that up with Sasha earlier that day, expressing his discomfort with the plan she had developed.

Sasha had sighed, and though she understood his discomfort it seemed she couldn't meet his request for a dedicated guard. "We need our best on the watch posts today, especially with all of us out here like this," she had told him before church opened. "That, and most of those capable of handling Pete don't want to babysit him today…they want to spend time with the families, their kids."

Rick didn't reply straight away, knowing she was right, and that he too shared the latter preference. If the quota for watching Pete was short then he would gladly take the position, but like many others he wasn't in a position to do so. This day meant a lot to Carl, giving him the opportunity to fuss over his dad, to make sure he had a good time while he too enjoyed a day of fun. If he knew Rick was focused more on Pete, Carl would be disappointed yet again.

"I'll stay up a bit longer," Sasha decided, seeing that he still wasn't in agreement. "I'll-"

"No, don't do that," he suddenly decided, cutting her off mid-sentence. She'd taken an extra long shift on watch last night, extending her shift until mid-morning and then pushing through her tiredness to help clear the Walkers from the spikes. She'd gone above and beyond to help protect the community while the others were revelling in a fun afternoon of food and drink. "You're right. There's plenty of us here to keep an eye on him. You go home…get some sleep."

She nodded gratefully, barely managing to stifle a poorly timed yawn. "I'll speak to Carter and a few others, make sure they're sticking close."

Though he had thanked her, the idea of Carter taking responsibility for Pete didn't exactly fill him with confidence. He trusted him of course, but no one else fully understood what was at stake, they didn't yet understand what Pete was capable of, nor what was driving him. For Pete, his grudge against Rick came down to the fact that he possessed everything that had been taken from him…his wife, his children, his respect. In Pete's eyes, Rick had taken these things from him. Looking around for him again, he watched him for a few minutes. Though his behaviour was cooperative and non-threatening, Rick still found it difficult to let his guard down.

All day he had been forced to divide his attention, trying to spend time with his family while still keeping a keen eye on Pete. He'd been on perfect behaviour for the last few days, but Rick was still on edge about him, still prepared for the very worst. That morning as they came into church Pete had passed by with Ron in tow, and Rick instinctually put his hand on Carl's shoulder as if that gesture would protect him from anything Pete might say. But despite this automatic reaction to protect his son, Pete and Ron walked by without so much as a glance in Rick and Carl's direction.

Just like he did, Carl also seemed to be watching Pete, unconsciously knowing that something serious was going on. The incident with Judith and her blood the other day, despite having been glossed over, still lingered like an elephant in the room, Rick no longer entirely sure if Carl believed what he had told him. The possibility of telling Carl the truth about Shane and Lori was still on his mind, a scenario he was weighing up. While it would negate the ammunition Pete had over him, it opened up a Pandora's box of possibilities Rick didn't want opened. He was satisfied in his decision that he didn't want to know Judith's true paternity, confident in his reasons and his love for her, but he wasn't sure that Carl would share the same feelings. Carl would want to know for the wrong reasons, so that he could hold it against Lori and Shane, or so he could validate Lori's innocence.

Nevertheless, Rick couldn't keep Carl and Ron apart forever, no matter how much he wanted to. Eventually Carl would have to interact with Ron, he'd have to go back to school one day or another. Ultimately what happened next was a responsibility that rested on Pete's shoulders. He knew what would happen to him if he caused any more trouble concerning Rick's family, and that he was responsible for anything Ron did too. It was up to him to maintain control of his son, to make sure he kept his mouth shut and didn't cause any more trouble. Despite everything, for now Pete was behaving himself, following the rules set out when they spoke in the early hours of the morning just a few days ago. If Pete knew what was good for him, that conversation would resonate for quite some time.

"Are you alright?" Carrie enquired.

Her attentiveness reminded him of how quickly his mood could drop, particularly where Pete was concerned, and he hastened to rectify this. They were returning to the celebrations with his arm around her waist, and as they walked he leant over and kissed her cheek, catching the smile it elicited. "Perfect…but we will definitely need to flip that mattress."

* * *

As the afternoon progressed and the heat lingered, the children of Alexandria sought refuge not with cold drinks or shaded trees, but with the long awaited water slide. Though Carrie wasn't sure who had ultimately won the debate over the length of the garden hose, Carl or Enid, there was no denying that the children and certain adults were enjoying themselves immensely. Tara and Eugene seemed to be having far too much fun for people who were supposedly supervising, with Eugene taking more than the required amount of turns for quality control assurance. After almost two hours the participants showed no signs of tiring, having already utilised their small ration of dish soap before appealing to Olivia for some more.

Too rowdy for Judith, she had joined Maggie who was luxuriating in their small inflatable pool, seeking refuge for the heat in a more relaxing manner. Shaded by a large beach umbrella, Maggie lay in the cool water with a cold drink in one hand and a paper fan in the other, her legs dangling over the edge of the too small pool. She was completely unashamed, her sunglasses shielding her eyes while Glenn rubbed suncream onto her legs, tending to her needs as requested. Having grown up in Georgia she was well accustomed to hot weather, but at almost thirty weeks pregnant she was seeking whatever relief she could find.

At Maggie's invitation Carrie too had joined her, laying her feet and legs in the cool water while she lay back with her head resting on Rick's knee. It was the height of relaxation, Rick stroking his fingers over her scalp while he and Glenn talked at leisure, Judith playing and splashing in the water by Maggie's side. In that moment she felt that there was little to worry about, nothing to weigh on her mind except the progression of the sun that necessitated Glenn move the umbrella intermittently. But it wasn't to last forever, and as she felt herself drifting on the edge of a nap, she reminded herself of her last task for the day.

She reached back and picked up Rick's left wrist, bringing it into her line of sight to see his watch. "Can you tell me when it's closer to three thirty?"

"What's at three thirty?"

"I'm taking a late lunch to everyone on watch or sleeping," she answered, getting comfortable before returning his hand to her hair, a clear request that he continue.

"Make sure you don't give any onions to Sasha," Maggie advised, her voice heavy with relaxation. "She's got watch in the south tower tonight, and if she farts in there she'll have to evacuate."

"No onion for Sasha," Carrie began reciting, shuddering in delight as Rick stroked his fingertips over her scalp. "Garlic sauce and mustard for Rosita, no salad for Abraham, no meat for Stacey."

"No olives for Daryl," Maggie said helpfully. "He'll eat them, but he doesn't like them. Says they're too fancy."

"And they look like rabbit shit," Glenn added, returning with some cold drinks in hand. "He only made that mistake once."

Carrie burst out laughing, thanking Glenn as he passed her a tumbler of cool wine. With great reluctance she raised her head from Rick's knee and sat up properly, tapping her plastic tumbler against Maggie's. When she looked at Maggie she couldn't help but feel her eyes drawn to her belly, the round shape barely contained by the too small tankini top she was wearing. The bottom half peeked out proudly, fine white lines showing the beginning of stretch marks while a lump on top indicated her navel had popped.

These days Carrie was relieved that the feelings of jealousy that used to linger in the back of her mind had faded, that she no longer felt resentful. She'd spent months feeling envious of Glenn and Maggie's pregnancy, but even then it hadn't quite seemed real. It was only the other day when she felt the baby moving that the concept of another human being became real to her, and it was with that understanding that her envy faded to be replaced by excitement. In another ten weeks or so the baby would be born, it's life would begin here in Alexandria where Carrie had also made her home. There would be a baby shower soon, one that Carrie had been asked to help with. Yet despite her genuine excitement, the thought of Maggie's baby also aroused emotions other than excitement…frustration, exasperation…worry.

Carrie was kicking herself for having not kept her supply of contraception up to date, for although sex hadn't been on the cards for the last two weeks, she and Rick both agreed early on that she would take the responsibility for keeping it. But with everything that had happened recently the need to get more condoms had slipped her mind, as had her plans to start birth control. In the heat of the moment she and Rick both chose to take the risk, but it was one they couldn't afford to take again. They both ought to have known better, Rick especially. He already had two children he hadn't planned on, and after what happened to Lori…

Immediately she felt ashamed of this thought, knowing that Lori's death wasn't anyone's fault. Trying to cut both of them a break, Carrie reassured herself that it would all be fine. She only had to go and see Denise for the morning after pill, and though it would feel a little embarrassing to ask for it again, as if she was frequently practiced unsafe sex, she knew Denise would come through for her.

Sitting beside Rick she shared a smile with him, reaching over and brushing a stray leaf from the back of his collar and then letting her hand linger. She'd struggled to manage her emotions earlier, feeling completely overwhelmed by the onslaught of happiness she'd experienced. Never before had she cried after sex, but never had she been with someone like Rick, someone she loved and cherished as much as him. Earlier she'd felt embarrassed by her reaction, she'd tried to hide it from him…but now her embarrassment faded. She knew he'd felt the same emotions, that the idea of them starting their lives together had hit him as hard as it had hit her. She thought about he request he had made of her, the suggestion that if marriage still meant anything to her, she would marry him one day. It had come out of no where, had taken her completely by surprise, but she agreed without needing to think.

Today felt like the first day of their relationship, or at least a new chapter in it anyway. They had worked through their problems, and though she still felt she had a little way to go with Carl, everything was under control. This time was for them, their opportunity to start their lives together as a family. She had no qualms that it would be a slow process, knowing that Carl had some adjusting to do regarding her new role, and that she had the same adjustments to make, but they were starting. Looking back at Judith again she thought back to church earlier that afternoon, to Gabriel's suggestion that she had been chosen as Judith's next mother. She knew Rick felt that way about her, that it was a role he wanted her to take, and while she was willing to be whatever he needed for his children, it still felt a little intimidating. She still did not know Judith very well…there was a learning curve ahead, for all of them.

Still dwelling on things, mainly the good that had come from this day, Carrie watched fondly as Judith clumsily got out of their inflatable pool and made her way over to Rick. Her eyes were red and bloodshot, reminding them all that she had missed her proper afternoon nap. She whined as she climbed into Rick's lap to seek his comfort, and as if she wasn't drenching him in water Rick pulled her against his chest and started to rub her back. She sucked her thumb and then closed her eyes, while Rick looked up at Carrie and gave her a smile. Gesturing to his leg he encouraged her to lay down again, and the hand he began to run through her hair was cold and wet from holding Judith. Completely content she closed her eyes and rested, the hot sun and their earlier activities making it feel completely justified.

"Glenn?" Maggie said apologetically, interrupting his conversation with Rick. "I need to pee."

He immediately got to his feet, never delaying when she needed something. "One crane, coming right up."

"Hey," she narrowed her eyes at him.

"What?" he protested, taking her hands and then carefully hauling her out of the pool. "You thought it was funny when Eugene said it."

"Yes, but then he called me Moby Dick and threatened to harpoon me."

Glenn sighed and looked at her in exasperation. "If you hurry up I'll rub your feet."

"Fine," she muttered, waving him off as if she was the one doing him a favour.

Glenn watched as she departed and then gave a long sigh as he sat back down. "Ten more weeks…just gotta get through ten more weeks."

"Sure, then the real fun begins," Rick joked. "Just remember, when the pregnant woman is happy, everyone is happy."

Nodding in agreement, Glenn took a long drink from his beer and then looked towards the church where Maggie was using the bathroom, attentively waiting for her to return. To Carrie's disappointment Rick's hand in her hair slowed to a stop, and she felt his leg moving.

"Could you find something for her to wear," he requested, dropping Judith's back pack down beside her.

Slightly less bothered that he had stopped on behalf of looking after Judith, Carrie sat up and brought the bag into her lap. Over her shoulder she watched as he coaxed Judith away from his chest and then began peeling her swimsuit off. Almost immediately she started to protest, turning her face away and struggling when he wouldn't let her lay down again.

"What do you want her to wear?"

"Whatever you please."

Smiling to herself, Carrie took advantage this and carefully evaluated the options available. Still unhappy, Judith was looking around in search of Maggie, and when Rick loosened his hold on her she tried to make a run for it. Catching her before she got too far he removed her wet diaper and expertly slipped on another while she was still standing. He kissed the crown of her head, bringing her back into his lap and comforting her. As she lay down she let out a pitiful wail and clutched his shirt in her fist.

"How's this one?" Carrie asked, holding up the dress she had chosen.

Rick barely spared it a glance, not often giving Judith's clothing a great deal of thought. "It's fine, thanks."

Carrie handed it over, having chosen that particular dress not because she liked it, but because the light weight fabric and lack of sleeves would have been comfortable for Judith. She should have known to expect this, for though he was a wonderful father Rick's choice of clothing for Judith was often…questionable. One could always tell when Rick had dressed his daughter, and when Carol had. Regardless of it's comfort, Judith's wailing continued as he put the dress on her and then neatened her damp hair. She settled only when he handed over her plush duck, one she had spent the afternoon dragging through the grass. Finally having what she wanted, she took a long drink of water from her cup and then lay down against Rick's chest, a few whimpers still escaping her lips. Minutes later she quietened, the sight of her in Rick's arms making Carrie wish they had a camera on hand.

Like before Rick gestured to his leg where she had been resting her head, but this time she shook her head, having something else in mind. Still keeping her feet in the inflatable pool, Carrie moved around to sit beside Rick properly, and she fondly watched Judith for a little while. She sucked her thumb as her eyelids became heavier and heavier, and finally she closed them and began sleeping. It amazed Carrie to think that soon she would be this little girl's mother, that she would have a step-daughter…no, a daughter. As she dwelled on this she looked back at Rick, not surprised that his expression indicated he was likely having the same type of thoughts. He held her gaze for a few moments, but seemed content with that, not indicating he wanted any more in that moment.

"This will be you and her soon," he said quietly, referring to the way he held Judith.

Her heart swelling as her stomach filled with butterflies, Carrie smiled and nodded in response. It would be different to her relationship with Carl, which overtime she expected would develop into a friendship rather than a maternal relationship. Judith didn't know Lori as her mother in the way that Carl did. While Lori wouldn't be forgotten, Carrie was going to be Judith's mom. The more she thought about it the more her excitement grew, and in that moment all she wanted to do was reach out and take Judith out of Rick's arms and into her own.

Maggie returned a short while later, wearily laying herself back down into the pool and turning onto her side. She was completely stretched out now, her head resting on the sides with her upper arm serving as a pillow. Looking wonderfully comfortable, she closed her eyes and began to rest, but only for a minute.

"Glenn," she muttered. "Can I have my drink, please."

Ever dutiful, he leant over and placed her drink by her head, ensuring she would be able to reach it. "There you go," he said, kissing her on the cheek before returning to where he sat.

A mischievous smile crossed Maggie's face. "Glenn…I'm going to need a straw."

"You can't lift your head?"

"Well if my husband is too busy to get me a straw I might have to."

Getting the hint, Glenn hid his sigh as he got back to his feet and went to the drinks tent to fetch what she needed. Endeared with the way he took care of her every whim and need Carrie watched on fondly, she and Maggie sharing a short chuckle. She turned back to Rick now, unsurprised to see the way he was looking at her. The smile on his face was only subtle, perhaps one that others wouldn't notice, but Carrie could tell what he was thinking. In this moment he felt just as happy and content as she did.

"Here's your straw," Glenn announced as he returned, putting it into Maggie's drink and turning it towards her mouth.

"Thank you," she murmured lazily, taking a long sip.

"Do you need anything else before I sit down again?"

Maggie seemed to consider this question long and hard, taking another sip as she thought. "Is there any food left?"

"There's dessert still out," he answered, looking back to the gazebos. "You want another slice of apple pie?"

At this question Maggie opened her eyes and looked at him. "Only one?"

Once again getting the hint, Glenn promptly went to get two slices of pie, explaining to Barbara why he needed both on one plate. Understanding perfectly, Barbara scooped some of their home made ice cream into a bowl and handed him that too, assuring him it would be welcomed.

Having used the last ration of dish soap the kids had descended into a water fight, utilising hoses, buckets and water pistols to wreak havoc on one another. Soaked from head to toe, Tara was screaming "Uncle!" as Conner and Hayley hosed her down, Eugene standing on their other side with a bucket. As they lowered the hoses Tara relaxed and breathed a sigh of relief, breaking into laughter until Eugene came behind her and dumped the bucket of water.

"Eugene!" she shouted at him, lunging for one of the hoses. "I said Uncle!"

Carrie set her eyes on Carl and Enid who appeared to have had enough, the two of them sitting side by side on the grass. Mikey was there with them too, the three teens talking at leisure as though nothing had happened between any of them, though Carrie knew that Carl was yet to forgive and forget. Much like with Ron, his friendship with Mikey was one of convenience and obligation, a truce having been reached for the sake of simply getting on with one another. Looking around a little more, she found where Ron was sitting at a table with Pete, doing his absolute best to ignore his younger brother. Clutching a towel around his shoulders Sam was desperately trying to convince Ron to join in with them, but he refused.

As Sam gave up and then reluctantly sat down on the empty chair, Pete turned his gaze away from his children and towards Carrie instead. Being the focus of his attention was in itself nothing to be concerned about, but it was the expression on his face that made her feel uncomfortable. There was no hint of resentment or even malice…he was simply looking at her, his expression blank and giving nothing away. Not understanding why his attention was on her, Carrie steeled herself and then turned to Rick, hoping he too had noticed. But he hadn't, his attention focused on Judith who had started to rouse at the sound of the others playing with the water. Hoping to get her back to sleep he was using his free hand to stroke her hair, his fingers moving back and forth over her scalp. It was working like a charm, Judith's eyes heavy with relaxation as they began to close.

"Ron, can't you stay?" Sam called out, pleading with him. "Please!"

Carrie raised her head again and looked towards Ron, feeling a flicker of annoyance with him. Not only was he being a jerk to the little brother that idolised him, he was presently making his way over to where Carl sat with Mikey and Enid. His head was bowed and his hands stuffed into his pockets, pointedly ignoring his brother who now seemed like he was on the verge of tears. Though Carrie felt sorry for them both, for Sam in particular, she knew who her priority was.

"Rick," she said quietly, nudging him to get his attention.

When he turned away from Judith and looked at her she gestured towards Carl, catching the moment when he realised what was happening. He took immediate action, sitting up a little straighter and then calling out to Carl. He called out twice before his son looked up, and it was apparent that he knew Ron was approaching. When Rick gestured for him to come over he seemed to roll his eyes, his shoulders slumping in exasperation as he said something to Enid and Mikey. But to his credit Carl did as he was told, getting to his feet and saying goodbye to his friends. By the time Ron made it over Carl was already walking away, both boys averting their eyes so they didn't have to look at one another.

"Seriously, Dad," he complained as he sat down with them, glancing at Carrie as if seeking her support. "He was jus-"

"I don't care what he was doing, you're not to hang out with him. I made that clear to you," Rick said unapologetically.

There was a long pause, Carrie exchanging glances with Glenn and Maggie who were watching the exchange between father and son.

"Enid and Mikey are his friends too," Carl muttered. "I can't expect him to just stay away all the time."

"No, you can't," Rick agreed. "That's why I told you to come over here."

"Fine," he muttered, clearly annoyed.

Making more effort than she had in the last twenty minutes combined, Maggie raised a hand and splashed some water at Carl, smiling when he gasped in surprise.

"What was that for?"

"Lighten up."

"You lighten up, Moby Dick."

There was a collective gasp from the others, each of them struggling not to laugh as they held their breath and awaited Maggie's response. She cracked an eye open and looked at him long and hard, but then sighed and closed it again. "If you weren't all the way over there I'd throw my drink at you."

"No you wouldn't. You want to drink it more than you want to throw it at me."

Considering this, Maggie turned her head and found the straw with her lips. "Yeah, that's true," she admitted after taking a long drink.

"Stop baitin' Maggie," Rick nudged Carl playfully. "Get me your sister's stroller, please."

Doing as he was told, Carl hauled himself to his feet and fetched the stroller, tossing out the few items they had stored on its seat throughout the day. Bringing Judith to his shoulder Rick carefully got to his feet, trying not to jostle her too much as he waited for Carl to recline the seat so that she could sleep. When it was ready he kissed her on the crown of the head before lowering her down into the seat, gently shushing her as her eyes began to flutter. To everyone's relief she gave a heavy sigh and moved around a little, smacking her lips together before continuing to suck on her thumb. She looked rather uncomfortable with the way she had twisted her torso and hung one leg over the side of the stroller, but soon she was still and quiet, getting the rest she needed.

Carrie had been waiting for Rick and Carl to sit back down, to resume the easy going afternoon they had all been enjoying, but to her disappointment they did not. Instead they lingered by the stroller, Rick moving it a few feet away into an area of better shade. For a few moments he and Carl talked quietly, and not wanting to eavesdrop she turned away, concurring with Glenn that he ought to move the beach umbrella shading Maggie. Curious, Carrie glanced back at Rick and Carl, seeing that they were still talking with one another, that Rick was now inspecting the stitches and waterproof dressing on his son's arm. Almost five minutes passed as father and son talked, while Carrie tried desperately not to look over her shoulder at them. She was dying to know what they were talking about, and how well it was going.

It was to her surprise that Carl came back over now, returning to where she sat while Rick hung back with Judith. Though her comfort was growing more and more Carrie swiftly turned back to Glenn and Maggie, feeling her heart rate speed up ever so slightly. She wasn't completely alone with Carl, but she didn't have Rick there as a buffer, she didn't have him to help the conversation keep moving. The last thing she wanted was for things to get awkward, not after things had started so well. As if knowing what she was thinking Rick looked at her and gave a short nod. Bracing herself, she took a long sip of her wine.

"So," Carl began, wearily sitting down on the grass beside her. With the casual ease of a teenager, he leant back on both arms and looked at her, tilting his head the way Rick sometimes did. "I hear you have a tattoo on your ass."

Carrie frowned at this remark, and then promptly choked on her wine. Her eyes watered as she coughed pathetically, conscious of the fact that he was laughing at her. "How the hell do you know that?" she exclaimed. She looked around at Rick accusingly, but to her surprise he was walking away now, leaving Judith asleep beneath the tree's shade.

"I have my sources," Carl smirked. He sat up know, resting his elbows on his knees as he looked at her excitedly.

As Glenn and Maggie started laughing at her expense, Carrie's face began to flush. "Who told you?"

"I can't tell. I have to protect my sources," he added, clearly proud of himself.

"My tattoo is not a matter of public interest," Carrie counter argued. "Therefore your source does not fall under the scope of source protection."

Only slightly deterred, Carl grinned and then gave in. "Eugene."

Carrie groaned at this, realising she should have known. "Well how does he know?"

"Tara told him, and Rosita told her."

As the others continued laughing at her, Carrie shook her head in exasperation and sought solace in her wine. Despite her embarrassment the ice had clearly been broken, and Carl happily lay back on the grass with his hands behind his head, still smirking to himself.

"So, what is it? Your tattoo?"

"They didn't tell you?"

"No, Rosita's holding out. Can I see it?"

"No!" she exclaimed, looking at Glenn and Maggie in mild horror.

"I'll only peek," he insisted.

Knowing when to take her leave, Carrie drank the last of her wine in a large gulp and then got to her feet. "What's that? Time for me to go."

"Boooo," Carl muttered in disappointment, his remark quickly echoed by Maggie and Glenn. "Where are you going?"

"I need to take lunch to everyone on watch, I've kept them waiting a while now."

"Wait up then," he said quickly, jumping to his feet and brushing the grass off his wet bathing suit. "I'll help you."

Carrie slowed to a stop and looked at him in pleasant surprise, glad for his offer…but only for a moment. "I'm not showing you my tattoo."

His shoulders slumped in disappointment, but his offer did not lapse. "Fine. But I'll still help you."

Her heart swelled at this, and she caught a glimpse of Glenn and Maggie smiling, they too sharing her delight. "Thank you," she said as she slipped her shoes back on and started collecting the plastic plates.

As if it was something they did often Carl fell into step beside her as they left, glancing over his shoulder as Judith as they left her in the care of her extended family. While they walked Carrie couldn't help but glance around for Rick, and she found him in Olivia's company in deep discussion. She wondered if they were talking about the pantry supplies, about how tight the rations of pickles were…it wouldn't surprise her that even today Rick was worried and planning ahead.

"Geez, are you…" Carl began awkwardly, interrupting her from her thoughts. "Are you checking him out?"

Carrie whirled around with haste, her eyes widening in embarrassment. "What? No, I wasn't," she said honestly. "I wouldn't…" she trailed off uncomfortably.

The expression on his face reassured her that he was embarrassed as she was, and if she wasn't mistaken he seemed dumfounded by the very thought of what she might have been doing. It was an important reminder that this was uncharted territory for both of them, but for Carl in particular. He had never known anyone to show a romantic interest in his dad, aside from Lori of course. He'd never pictured Rick with another woman, never fathomed that it might be in his future. With that in mind, Carrie was glad for how well he seemed to be taking everything.

"You know, you could have any guy that you wanted…like, anyone," he implored her, though his tone was friendly. "Are you sure you want him?"

Carrie smiled. "Is there a reason I shouldn't?"

"You know he can't slice bread, right? And he ties shoe laces in a really stupid way…are you sure want all that?" he teased.

She looked back to Rick, noting that the discussion with Olivia had deepened. In fact he was looking rather stressed, but a moment later there was an exasperated smile on his face. "Yeah," she said, looking back at Carl with a smile. "I'm sure."

With no other choice Carl just raised his eyebrows and then shrugged his shoulders, apparently accepting what she had told him. As if nothing was amiss between them he hustled her back towards their original destination, and they easily set to work with one another.

* * *

As he settled Judith into the stroller and helped her get comfortable, Rick made sure that Carl didn't wander off just yet, noting that Enid had caught his eye again. She was heading back towards the church for something, but Rick wasn't quite ready to let him run off and hang out just yet. When Judith settled he moved her stroller further into the shade, keeping her away from the conversation lest it disturb the nap she so very needed.

"What's up?" Carl asked, having followed at Rick's request.

Looking at him critically, Rick wondered how best to broach the subject. "That went well, don't you think?"

Surprised by the question, Carl took a moment to answer. "With Carrie?" he awkwardly clarified. "Yeah, I guess so."

"Good. I'm glad you agree. I-"

"What's her tattoo?"

This time it was Rick's turn to be surprised. "Her tattoo?"

"Eugene told me it's on her ass," he said eagerly. "What is it?"

He paused at this, trying to fathom how Eugene might know such a detail. "I'm not telling you, that's her secret."

"But you've seen it, right?" he pressed eagerly.

Rick paused, reminding himself there was no point in skirting around the facts. He had definitely seen Carrie's tattoo, he was getting rather familiar with it. "Yes, I've seen it. And no," he said quickly, knowing Carl was about to ask again. "I'm not telling you what it is. Ask her yourself," he dared.

"Fine," he smirked as he turned away. "I will."

"Hey, hold up a sec. I gotta go talk to Olivia for a minute, but uhh…I've got something for you. Something I want you to have."

Interested, Carl came back and waited while Rick opened a pouch on his duty belt. He placed his wedding ring in the palm of his hand and held it out to Carl, seeing the way his expression fell a little. It hadn't been a lie when he told Carrie he knew what he wanted to do with his wedding ring, having always kept in mind that he would pass it on to Carl. It was a symbol of his marriage to Lori, one that he was ready to let go, but not necessarily forget. Passing it on to their son would honour that…if Carl was willing to take it.

"I thought you wanted to keep it on," he said quietly, recalling their conversation from that morning. He glanced down at Rick's other hand, his eyes honing in on the white stripe on his fourth finger that it used to occupy.

"I reconsidered. I want you to have it now. You can wear it on your hand, put it on a chain around your neck, keep it at home…I don't mind. I just want it to be yours now."

Still there was hesitation, but finally Carl reached out and took the ring, holding it between his fingers and looking at it as though he'd never seen such a thing. "It doesn't fit," he said softly when he slipped it on, but then slipped it on his middle finger instead. "This is a bit better."

"Will you take it?"

Considering this for a moment, Carl slowly nodded. He fiddled with the ring on his finger, getting used to the way it felt. "Yeah, okay." There was another long pause, and it was clear Carl was mulling something over. Finally he seemed to come to a realisation, and he straightened his shoulders and smirked proudly. "I want my own room."

Rick blinked at him. "You what?"

"I want my own room. I'm sick of sharing with you, and I'm sick of Judy hogging my side of the bed in the mornings." There was another brief pause, Carl twisting his new ring around his finger. "I'll swap with Carrie."

Without further ado he turned on his heel and left, leaving Rick momentarily flabbergasted until relief took its place. He had hoped all along that Carl might come to his idea on his own terms, that he might see the opportunity and bring it up himself, but he hadn't expected it to happen so quickly. As he walked the short distance back he raised his hand and looked at the new addition on his middle finger, perhaps thinking about how strange it felt to wear. He found Carrie trying to catch his eye, and when he saw a hint of nervousness on her face he gave her a short nod. Carl sat down beside her, and then judging by the way she choked on her drink he had indeed asked about her tattoo.

Leaving them to it, he checked on Judith once more and then headed off, satisfied that Glenn and Maggie were staying put and would keep an eye on her as she slept. Meandering his way through the other residents and hastily dodging Conner who was chasing Eugene with the garden hose, he made his way towards the church where he could see Olivia and Heath setting up the commercial coffee machine that had taken months to repair. He waited for her to have a free moment, and as he did he looked over his shoulder to see Carrie and Carl heading to the food tents together. Carrie would be taking food to people on watch and to those were were sleeping prior to the night shift, and he was glad to see Carl there helping her.

Eager to return to his family, for he could see Judith beginning to rouse already, he apologetically interrupted Olivia. "That thing I asked for still okay?"

She nodded, promptly pulling a scrap of paper from her pocket and looking it over. "Tall skinny vanilla mocha, extra hot, extra espresso, hold the foam. For Carrie. And in exchange you'll…"

"Make sure you get the biggest jar of Carol's strawberry jelly."

"And…"

"And?"

"It's a difficult coffee order to make. She wants vanilla, chocolate, coffee, no foam. You gotta get the milk extra hot without burning it. That's tricky with skim," Olivia said, pleading her case. "I bet her barista loved her."

"I hear she tipped well," he muttered, wondering what it was Olivia wanted. "So, and?"

"I want the first tomato."

Rick cringed on the inside, feeling like Olivia was going for the kill here. The first tomato of a plant was an absolute prize, and right now there was one that was almost ready. He and Carl had been watching it for days, waiting for the perfect time to pluck it from the vine. There would be a race to get it, both of them holding out for as long as possible while weighing the risk that the other might lose their nerve and get there first. It would be absolute perfection, sweet and juicy, full of flavour, perfect on a fresh piece of bread with some pepper…and Olivia wanted that for herself. But there was nothing he could do, he had promised Carrie a surprise she would actually like.

"This is highway robbery, but fine," he conceded. "First tomato is yours."

"Pleasure doing business with you," she beamed, extending her hand.

Shaking it, he had to admire her negotiation. "She's taking food to people on watch," he told her. "I'm not sure how long she'll take."

"Say no more," she declared, beaming as she turned on the coffee machine. "As soon as she's back she'll have a coffee in her hands. Can I draw a little love heart and kisses on the lid?"

"No."

"Can I dr-"

"Thank you Olivia," he said, clapping her on the shoulder as he walked away.

He returned to where he was before, taking a few moments to comfort Judith and help her settle once again. She was over tired by now, and if she didn't settle off to sleep soon he suspected she would end up back against his chest again. That was where she preferred to sleep if she was sick or overtired, needing the comfort and a physical embrace to help her settle. But after just a short minute he began to suspect that she was going to stay put, her features relaxing into the light sleep he wanted to see from her.

Sitting back down with Glenn and Maggie, who had finally finished her next helping of dessert, Rick looked forward to the afternoon of kicking back. There would be the baseball game to play soon, but even then he would be with his family, spending time with all of them that afternoon. As he watched Carrie and Carl collecting the lunches for those on watch he wondered what they might do that evening, if she would come home with him for a little while or go straight to Jessie's. In his head he knew that she was most needed by Jessie's side, but selfishly he didn't want to wait any longer…Tuesday was quite far away.

"Hurry back," he told her as she and Carl walked past, carrying two coolers of food and drink. "I have a surprise for you."

Carrie just raised her eyebrows at this remark, and she gave a skeptical chuckle. "I hate surprises."

"You'll like this one."

Again she laughed, as did Carl. "Good luck with that."

Watching them both depart, Rick's heart swelled with even more happiness, pleased to hear them laughing and talking to one another as if it were any other day. Having already taken Rosita her lunch they were heading to Stacey in the south tower, and then would head on to Abraham and Daryl before dropping by the people sleeping prior to taking watch. All in all it might take them twenty minutes to deliver all the meals, twenty minutes in which he would eagerly await her return. Until then he passed the time with Glenn and Maggie, his heart rejoicing when she suddenly sat up in the pool and lunged for his and Glenn's hands. The baby had started kicking up a storm, his movements clear and easily discernible to the touch. Recalling that there was about ten weeks to go, Rick couldn't wait to see this young couple becoming parents, to see them being brave enough to lead the life they wanted.

"He's going to be beautiful, Maggie," he told her fondly. "Even if he's the ugliest baby to ever grace this earth, he'll be beautiful."

"Well of course," she said as she laid back in the pool, sounding pleased with what he said. "I'm his mother."

Glenn chuckled, resuming his task of rubbing her feet. "If he has your good looks, then he'll have my winning personality and wit."

"God help me," she replied dryly, though she smiled a moment later.

The sound of a gunshot came without warning, and though it wasn't unusual these days it immediately aroused everyone's attention. In seconds the entire community fell silent, conversation's fading and the coffee machine slowly dying down too. On edge already, Rick raised his head and looked around. His reaction to the gunshot was slow…perhaps too slow, but it didn't make any sense. He'd checked in with the people on watch, he'd verified himself that everyone was following procedure by using a suppressor. No sound from their rifles should have been that audible from a distance.

Moments later there came a second shot.

"That was a hand gun," Glenn stated lowly, standing up and looking around.

Feeling a cold shiver go down his spine. Rick's heart was pounding already, adrenaline compelling him to act, and so he followed suit and took his radio from his belt. "Who fired a hand gun?" he demanded, fully expecting a sheepish apology from someone on watch. When there was no reply he asked again.

"Not me," Stacey radioed in. "I've got Sasha's rifle."

"Not me either," Rosita said next.

Looking up at her on the east post, he watched as she raised his binoculars and looked not outside the walls, but to the inside instead. "Abraham, where are you?" she asked over the radio. "Why aren't you on your post?"

That was all they needed to know that something was terribly wrong, that something had compelled Abraham to leave his post. As a flurry of worried murmurs swept the small crowd Rick was immediately taking action, his people racing to their feet and heading towards the western side of Alexandria.

"Abraham, do you copy? Those shots came from your direction…Abraham?" When he heard no response he called out to Daryl instead, falling into step beside Michonne as they reached the townhouses. "Daryl, what the hell is going on? Daryl?"

Without warning Michonne seized him by the shirt and pulled him to a stop, her eyes wide and frightened as she looked over her shoulder. "Where's Carl?" she asked urgently. "He left with Carrie, where are they?"

At these words he felt his body turn cold, and he looked around as he came to a horrible realisation. Carl and Carrie had left almost fifteen minutes ago, they weren't here safely by his side, and…he looked around the community members who had gathered to celebrate, looking for one face in particular. As everything fell into place Rick took off sprinting again, needing to find Carl and Carrie immediately, to protect them both.

Pete was also gone.

* * *

A/N I am so not sorry for the cliff hanger!

We're coming to the final chapters of this story, and I now must beg and plead with you to leave me a review with your thoughts, likes and dislikes! I know i have been slower than usual with posting, but I've worked hard to get these chapters out, while also moving to a new city, starting a new job, and busting out the first 10 chapters of the new story!

Feed the author - leave a review!


	53. Chapter 53

A/N Thanks for the many awesome reviews, they were such a joy to read! Enjoy the chapter!

* * *

"Hurry back," Rick told her as she and Carl walked past. "I have a surprise for you."

Checking the lid on the cooler, Carrie raised her eyebrows at this remark and gave a skeptical chuckle. "I hate surprises."

"You'll like this one."

His certainty was bold, and perhaps he had forgotten how fussy should could be. She laughed pleasantly, glad when Carl laughed too. "Good luck with that."

She wanted to brush her hand over his arm or kiss him on the cheek, to share the affection that came to him so naturally, but given present company she chose instead to resist. Carl had already teased her about checking his dad out, she didn't think she could bear the embarrassment of being caught again. Settling for a friendly smile she followed Carl's lead over towards Rosita on the eastern watch post, knowing full well that Rick would be watching them leave.

In a few short minutes they delivered Rosita her meal, Carrie having ensured she got extra garlic sauce as requested. With the first delivery done they headed back past the celebrations towards the townhouses where Holly was sleeping, having kindly taken the night shift that no one wanted. While Carl went inside to put Holly's food in the refrigerator Carrie waited out on the pavement, casting her eyes around the rest of the community. Sam was now happily playing with Tara and Eugene, no longer caring that Sam wouldn't hang out with him, and Pete was watching on. Turning her attention away from him, for he was the least of her concerns, she looked around at the rest of the community.

As she passed her gaze over Denise she reminded herself to get the morning after pill before going home, and with that in mind she looked at Rick again, unable to help herself. He was back sitting with Glenn and Maggie, thanking Michonne and Carol who were making rounds to disperse more cold drinks. He turned away another beer and took a bottle of water instead, tipping half of it into Judith's cup before taking a drink. She looked forward to returning to his side once her task was complete, not caring if she was acting a little love sick. They had some lost ground to make up for, though with the quickie they had indulged in they had certainly gotten off to a good start. She thought about what he said to her a few minutes ago, wondering what the surprise was that he had in store for her.

"So, it's a pretty big elephant," she began when Carl came back outside. Though things had gotten off to a good start it was still a little uncomfortable. She wanted to break the ice, to broach the subject that was indeed becoming the elephant in the room.

Carl frowned and looked up at her as they walked. "Elephant?"

"Yeah, the…" she trailed off, wondering if he understood the phrase. "The elephant in the room? Me and your dad?"

She saw the moment that it clicked in Carl's head, his head nodding when he realised. "Oh yeah, I get it. The elephant in the room…yeah, it's kinda huge."

The awkwardness resumed, having not abated by Carrie's acknowledgement of its existence. Knowing they still had three more watch posts to get through she tried to come up with something to say, something that would help them continue the easy conversation they'd held before. What was Carl interested in? Comic books, woodwork…what the hell was wrong with her? She knew Carl better than that, she knew he had wider interests than what anyone could see on the surface. It had been so much easier before with Rick by their sides, acting as a buffer and quiet presence to help the conversation keep going.

"Dad gave me his ring," Carl suddenly said, raising his hand as they walked.

Carrie furrowed her brow as she looked, a little surprised to find Rick's silver wedding ring on Carl's middle finger, but there was no mistaking it. For a moment it felt like her heart skipped a beat, because she was glad to see it there, she was glad he had taken it off. Until now he'd never given any indication that he was thinking of removing it, that he was ready to part with the symbol of his marriage to Lori. She admitted only to herself that she had been jealous of it, that she had looked forward to the day his fourth finger was empty, but she would have never asked him to take it off. His sudden removal of it that afternoon had been a welcome surprise, especially with the trust that he was doing it for the right reasons. They were starting their life together, he'd mentioned that their own marriage was in their future…it was the right time to remove his wedding ring.

"I didn't ask him to take it off," she said gently, hoping that Carl believed her.

"I know," he said nonchalantly, using his thumb to push the ring back and forth on his finger, its size a little too large. "I told him he should, this morning."

"Oh," she started in surprise, taken aback by this. Carl had told him to?

"He said no at first…said you guys still had lots to learn about each other," he continued, the tone of his voice suggesting that he was looking for information.

"Yes," she admitted, figuring that wasn't too personal. "We do."

Carl continued, dissatisfied with the insight he was gaining. "So…what changed? Why'd he take his ring off?"

Pausing, Carrie considered her choice of words, knowing full well she couldn't tell Carl anything about what she and his father had gotten up to that afternoon. "You'd have to ask him."

He rolled his eyes, still dissatisfied with her answers. Thankfully they quickly reached the south tower, the awkwardness abating as they resumed their task.

"Stacey," Carrie called out. "Lunch is here."

Seconds later Stacey appeared in one of the windows, her long blonde hair casting a halo like glow around her face. With a pointed chin and what seemed like a cold stare Carrie hadn't warmed to her immediately upon her arrival in Alexandria, getting the feeling that she was somewhat like a librarian who shushed first graders. But like she had with everyone she'd eventually warmed up to her, especially when Stacey finally admitted she was an expert marksman with a long hidden desire to take out Walkers. Much like with Carol, there was a little more hidden behind her cardigan.

"You've got some salad, coleslaw, potato casserole, grilled zucchini, corn fritters and sweet potato fries," Carl announced, showing her the plate from afar. "Want us to heat it up for you?"

"Yes, please," Stacey said eagerly.

"I got this," Carl said to Carrie, dumping the cooler and starting to walk away.

"Don't microwave the salad or coleslaw," she reminded him. "Unless you hate Stacey," she joked.

"How did you know?" he laughed, though quietly enough that Stacey didn't hear.

Leaving her behind Carl headed towards the nearest microwave which would be at Bob and Natalie's, simply letting himself in. Left behind Carrie waited patiently, breathing a small sigh of relief before looking back up at Stacey. She was climbing out of the window now, meeting them halfway so that Carrie didn't have to climb up with her broken wrist.

"How's it going with him?" Stacey asked, gesturing after Carl. "I've been watching the celebrations from up here, I could see you all sitting together."

Carrie smiled to herself, glancing over in that direction. Though the solar panels blocked her line of sight she could still hear the gentle hum of their people celebrating the day. "It's going okay," she said honestly. "I'm running out of things to talk to him about."

"Don't try so hard. Young men? They can be more chatty than we realise. Let him do the talking."

Hoping she was right Carrie nodded her head in agreement, glancing over at Bob and Natalie's house once more. She was being silly…she knew Carl, she knew their family often teased the way he never shut up once he got started talking about something. When Carl returned and they went back on their way the silence resumed, both giving one another brief glances from the corner of their eyes. Barely managing to hide an embarrassed smile, she felt relieved that he too had realised how awkward this was, that he shared her nervousness. Just as she opened her mouth to start saying something, likely something stupid, Carl spoke first.

"Dad used to tell me the rumble strip on highways was for blind drivers," he started, clearly trying to fill the silence. "I used to believe him."

Carrie let out an amused chuckle, looking at him fondly. "That's a bit mean."

"Nah," he shrugged. "His dad used to tell him that too, my Grandpa. And he used to tell me that the star on our Christmas tree was for Santa to watch me and make sure I was behaving. I was really well behaved in the living room."

 _Stacey had been right…let him do the talking._ "A nanny once told me that mannequins in the department store were children who got caught touching things."

"A nanny?" Carl frowned as his laughs subsided, and he looked at her curiously. "You had a nanny?"

"I had lots of nannies growing up."

Carl seemed rather unhappy to hear this. "I can't imagine having a nanny…" he muttered, the idea completely foreign to him.

"I didn't mind so much," she said, not mentioning she often liked her nanny more than her parents. "I got someone new every year, I got to mess with them and break them in until they figured me out. I learnt to speak three languages thanks to them."

"What ones?"

"French, German and Italian. I learnt a little Danish, but I can't remember any of it."

He looked at her in awe, looking rather impressed. "That's really cool…might even make up for the hockey thing."

Carrie sighed. "Don't get started on hockey again."

"I could take you on."

"If that's how you feel." She looked at him with a smirk, daring him to keep going, but to his credit he knew when to let it go. "Hey Abe," she called out as they passed Buttons in her stable. "How's it going up there?"

Lowering his binoculars Abraham turned around and looked at them, taking note of the coolers they carried. He gave an impatient laugh, the redness of his face indicating how hot it was up there. "I'm sweatin' like a Jew in the Vatican!" he loudly declared.

Carrie cringed, though she ought to be used to his wildly inappropriate humour. "You want your food hot?"

"You know I like it hot!" he called out devilishly, laughing at his own joke.

Carrie rolled her eyes, pleased to note that the innuendo had clearly gone straight over Carl's head. Diverting straight to the first house they took refuge from the June warmth as they sought the use of the microwave, sorting through the containers and finding the one that would be for Abraham.

"What's the Vatican?" Carl asked as he found Abraham's food.

She looked at him incredulously, so frequently taken aback by the extent of his education, by all the things he ought to know but didn't have the opportunity to learn. "I can't believe your dad pulled you out of school," she teased before kindly explaining.

To her relief the easy conversation that started developing with Carl didn't fade, the two of them standing side by side in the kitchen as they watched Abraham's lunch turning round and round in the microwave.

Carl shrugged. "I hate school, but I wish I knew all this stuff," he muttered forlornly. "Dad said I'm not going back next week."

Carrie frowned at this, surprised. "Why's that?"

Again, Carl shrugged. "It's getting annoying now…I'm kind of bored. Don't tell him I said that," he said hastily. "I'm not allowed to see Ron either, not that he's a big loss."

Nodding along, Carrie took care to ensure that he didn't suspect she already knew this. It didn't matter if Carl's education suffered in the short term, Rick was keeping him away from Ron whatever the cost. Regardless of whatever agreement he and Pete had reached, Rick wasn't completely trusting of it, of Ron in particular. It made sense of course, particularly given how unremorseful Ron had been about the pain his exposure of Rick's relationship with her had caused. Ron knew about the circumstances surrounding Judith's paternity…Rick was afraid he would tell Carl.

"Is it because of what happened last week?" Carl asked, his tone rather disheartened. "You know, when I…"

She was surprised by his question, mainly that he was directing it at her. "You mean what happened with the Wolves?" she asked, glancing at the line of stitches above his right elbow. "He's not punishing you for that."

"I know," he said hastily, pursing his lips. "It's just that he hardly lets me go anywhere alone at the moment. I get it, I mean I know I was sneaking out a lot and he doesn't trust me, but -"

"He trusts you," she cut him off abruptly, not wanting him to go on feeling the way he was. _It was Pete and Ron that he didn't trust._

He looked up at her hopefully, realising she must have some kind of insight. "Then why?"

She paused, choosing an answer that wasn't necessarily untruthful. "Did it occur to you that maybe he misses you?" It appeared that this was news to Carl, his skeptical expression prompting Carrie to continue. "A couple of weeks ago he was talking about not making you go to school so often. He wants to be able to spend more time with you."

Carl still seemed skeptical. "I thought he'd want to spend more time with his new girlfriend," he said lightly.

It seemed the elephant in the room still lingered, a constant reminder of how badly they had handled their relationship in regards to Carl. Her gut writhed as she remembered what he had said to her the day he found out, that she could fuck his dad all she liked but that it wouldn't make her family. With this in mind she considered her response carefully. This was sensitive territory, a subtle indication about the worries he felt towards new relationship. Surely he must know that he and his sister would always be Rick's priority, that no matter what Carrie would always be second? She'd accepted that long ago, acknowledged that Rick had to be a parent first above all else…Carl didn't necessarily recognise that.

"I know it's probably hard to see it right now, but I'll never be a greater priority than you and Judith. I can't compete with someone's children," she said seriously. "I _won't_ compete."

Though he nodded, Carl remained silent for a few moments, perhaps unsure of what to say. Wanting to fill the silence Carrie took the opportunity to express something she should have said before now.

"I'm sorry for what we did, for how long we kept our relationship from you." She resisted the urge to explain further, to tell him that she had pushed Rick to do it but that he had been afraid of his son's reaction. Carl didn't want to hear their excuses. "You deserved better from us. I'm sorry."

His discomfort with her apology was palpable, and he avoided eye contact as he considered his response. His hands were clenched into fists, his arms folded across his chest, but he didn't seem angry. Finally the tension in his body seemed to ease, and he released a slow breath of air.

"Thanks, I guess," he said quietly, glancing up at her for just a moment. "I'm sorry too. You know, for being a jerk. I know I made things hard for you guys."

"You don't owe me an apology." She paused now at let things linger a moment, taking a deep breath to steady herself. "So…are you and I okay?"

"Yeah, we're cool," he nodded without hesitation, and then a moment later he gave a sly grin. "You want to make all this up to me?"

"How?" she asked cautiously.

"Can I see your tattoo?"

She rolled her eyes. "No."

"Please? Just a peak. I won't even look at your ass."

"It's _on_ my ass!

"Yeah, but I won't look," he laughed.

"Then how will you see it?"

"I'll look but I won't _look_."

Though she understood the distinction he was trying to make, Carrie shook her head in refusal, far too embarrassed to show him. It had finished heating over a minute ago, and so she opened the microwave and removed the container of food. "Take this to Abraham, and hurry up!"

"You're such a buzz kill."

Carl departed and Carrie watched him go for a moment, her heart rejoicing and a great weight having been lifted off her shoulders. That conversation was overdue by now, and it had gone better than she had expected. As she warmed Daryl's lunch and took care to ensure that it was olive free, she watched Carl through the living room window. He took Abraham's food straight over, going to the effort of climbing up the ladder so that he didn't have to leave his post. They chatted for a short while before he turned and came back, swinging his arms back and forth as he walked. The wound from where the Wolves had attacked him last week was healing nicely, and if he intended to play baseball that afternoon it mustn't be bothering him much.

As if they hadn't just had a very important conversation, Carl came back and immediately started on about her tattoo again, playfully trying to bargain for a peek at it. Far too embarrassed to show him, for he'd never let up if he knew she had Tinkerbell tattooed on her ass, she stoutly refused and set him back to work dispersing the meals among those who were not at the celebrations.

"How's it going with him?" Daryl asked a few minutes later, gratefully taking the food and can of soda she passed up to him. On the north post between Jessie and Rosemary's house, Daryl was one of the last to receive his meal.

"Good," she said with a smile, glancing back. Carl was delivering the remaining two meals, one to Sasha in the second house, and one to Jessie on the other side.

"He ain't tearin' yah to shreds?"

She shook her head. "Everything's working out," she smiled, beginning to feel the relief that came with these words. The breaking of the ice was getting easier and easier with every passing moment.

"Good, 'bout fucking time," he muttered, looking at his lunch with great approval. "You got anythin' other than Coke?"

"No," she said apologetically. "You don't like Coke?"

He shook his head brusquely, politely handing it back. "Rot yah teeth."

Carrie looked at him in mild disbelief, clearly recalling stories he'd told her of his wilder days - at times he could be a walking contradiction. "After all the shit you got up to, you draw the line at Coke?" she teased.

"I ain't drinking nothin' yah can clean a toilet with."

"I'll get you something else from home," she offered, heading back there already.

"Nah, don't go outta yah way."

"I'll get you something else. A glass of milk? A supplement shake?" she teased, always amused by the way Daryl hated people fussing over him.

Just catching the playful _fuck off_ he muttered under his breath, she grinned as she turned and headed back home. She didn't mind going out of her way for Daryl, if he wanted something other than Coke, she'd get it for him. As she came back in the side door and headed for the kitchen she met Carl as he was coming in the front door, noting that he was in a rush.

"Where you going in such a hurry?"

"Just changing my clothes," he said, taking the stairs two at a time.

Carrie bit her tongue, wondering if he was changing his clothes because of Enid. Before they had changed to play on the water slide Enid had pointed out that Carl had spilt sauce on his white shirt, and he'd seemed pretty embarrassed. But he wasn't to know that Rick had told her about what happened with Enid, that the two of them had shared an awkwardly perfect kiss the week before. As she waited Carrie went to the refrigerator and put the can of Coke inside, selecting instead a lemonade she knew Daryl would prefer. Making the exchange she closed the refrigerator and headed for the side door again, but as she passed the foot of the stairs she came to a stop, deciding she'd wait for Carl to join her. Stacey had been right, Carl was more talkative than she realised, and with each passing moment it was getting easier for them - she wanted his company again, she wanted to resume their earlier conversation.

Sinking down onto the bottom stair she looked around the small hallway area and then out towards the living area at the front of the house. She hadn't been back here since the day she had left, and sitting here now felt like a rare treat, something she'd been waiting for a while - in that respect she supposed it was something she'd been waiting for. Once Jessie was settled after Father's Day Carrie would return back to this house, to her rightful home. Things would revert to a new version of normal, one she and Rick both eagerly welcomed, Carl too. When the time was right she had no doubt that she would move into Rick's bedroom while Carl took hers…and one day in the future they's talk about getting married. She gave a small laugh of disbelief at this thought…marriage? Rick had asked her if she still saw any value in it these days, and before that moment she hadn't. It didn't seem like something for her, rather an institution reserved only for perfect couples like Glenn and Maggie. But now? She and Rick deserved that if it was what they wanted…clearly it was what he wanted. Now that he'd brought it up, she wanted it too.

"Come on!" she called out loudly, looking up to the first floor. "Hurry up Carl!"

There was a slight creak that announced the presence of someone else, but it wasn't until they spoke that Carrie noticed she wasn't alone.

"What's the rush there, Carrie?"

Whirling around she felt her breath catch in her throat, her heart surely skipping a beat. She looked towards the front door where a lone figure had appeared, someone who definitely should not be there. Pete stood in the threshold, his tall stature crowding the door frame as he passed through and entered the home. Momentarily stunned Carrie looked at him in disbelief, trying to understand what her eyes were showing her.

"Pete…" she said blankly, still staring at him. She felt dumfounded, unable to comprehend his presence there.

"Yes."

Looking past him she searched for the person accompanying him, the guard that should be supervising his every move…but he was alone. She slowly got to her feet and faced him. "Rick's not here," she said automatically, wondering if this was just an innocent mistake. Pete was behaving himself…he and Rick had an agreement.

"No."

"Rick's not here," she repeated.

When he didn't reply she felt a cold shiver run through her body, a distinct feeling of panic beginning to develop in the back of her mind. She could feel her heart rate speeding up in anticipation, her muscles tense and ready even though her mind was still catching up. What was Pete doing here? His behaviour made no sense, he and Rick had an agreement. But she knew what her body was telling her was true, that she was in danger and so was Carl.

"What do you want?" she asked quietly, taking a step back as he stepped forward. She let her left hand drift down to her leg, but her panic intensified when she remembered that she wasn't wearing her gun holster…she had nothing to protect herself with. "Pete? What do you want?"

His demeanour pleasant, Pete looked around the living area, running his hand over the back of Judith's high chair by the kitchen bench. "Have you noticed that he has everything he's taken away from me?"

"He?" she questioned, though there was no doubt he was referring to Rick.

As Pete nodded Carrie hastily considered her options, her choice of which was quickly dwindling. Pete was blocking her access to the gun safe at the front of the house, a realisation that frightened her…he'd done that on purpose, he knew exactly what he was doing. She glanced into the kitchen, knowing that although she wouldn't make it to the knife block in the corner, she could make it to the steak knives in the top drawer. She could make it there, but a hand to hand fight with someone Pete's size? She'd never survive that. As Pete took another step closer Carrie echoed him in return, going back until the heel of her shoe hit the bottom stair. She could run upstairs…even in high heels she could make it to the main bedroom where Carl was, but Pete could break the door down in seconds. That was not an option, she couldn't draw Pete towards Carl. She had to draw him away, she had to protect Rick's son at any cost. Seeking her only other option she glanced to her left, looking at the side door she had left ajar. She could make it…she could get out and draw Pete away from Carl.

Suddenly Pete was advancing on her, his fists clenched and his eyes narrowed, and Carrie was forced to act. She dropped the can of soda and ran for it. In barely a second she had reached the side door, her fingers wrapped around the side to throw it back and burst outside, but Pete was too quick for her. He was on her immediately, shoving her hard against the door, knocking all the breath out of her as he slapped a hand over her mouth. As he tried to close the door Carrie gave a muffled cry of pain, fighting and trying to free herself when Pete jammed her fingers between the door and the frame.

Her hand was in agony, the top of the plaster cast scraping against the frame as she tried to free herself, but it was to no use. Still holding his hand over her mouth Pete held her steady, keeping her trapped his he reached up and made sure the door stayed where it was, her fingers still stuck. Her heart was pounding painfully hard inside her chest, her legs like jelly as she took stock of the situation, of the strength and cruelty Pete was showing in this moment. As the pain in her hand continued her eyes moistened with tears, another whimper of pain building in her throat. Pete was all around her, his body pressed up against her back, taking complete control of her, and there was nothing she could do.

"Don't scream," he instructed softly, whispering the words against the side of her neck. "Don't scream, and I'll let your hand out."

She thought of Daryl two houses away on the north post…he might not hear her even if she did scream. Very slowly she nodded, desperate to relieve the pain that was radiating through her broken wrist. Finally Pete relented the pressure on the door, allowing her to pull her fingers free with a quiet moan of relief. But he wasn't done, and he continued holding her there against the door even after he closed it and turned the deadbolt.

"Are you going to cooperate?"

Did she have a choice? She nodded in agreement, praying that Carl stayed upstairs, that he was still changing his clothes. It didn't matter what happened down here so long as he stayed away. Trusting her agreement, Pete stepped back and put some space between them, but he kept his hand across her mouth. The space didn't last long however, for the next moment he had his hand on her waist and was steering her to follow him, touching her as though he was someone who loved her. Nevertheless she came cooperatively, cradling her right hand against her stomach as she tried to anticipate what he would do. It was with relief that she turned around and found Carl no where to be seen, that he was remaining uninvolved so far, but her relief faded when Pete led her into the garage and closed the door behind them. The privacy it gave him sent chills down her spine, making her feel even more trapped, as though the walls were about to close in on them.

Without wasting time Pete steered her around the massive pile of supplies from the now empty safe house towards the other side of the garage, her heart sinking when she realised where he was taking her. The two gun cabinets stood tall and intimidating, each of them housing a variety of firearms, ammunition and weapons that she didn't want Pete to get his hands on. But as she anticipated he led her straight over to the closest one, and when they stood before it he wrapped his arm around her waist and stood pressed against her back, using touch to intimidate her…it was effective.

"Open it."

With his hand still over her mouth she couldn't give a verbal answer, and she settled for shaking her head. He asked her twice more, and twice more he ignored her answer before becoming impatient. The hand that was around her waist began moving up, slowly stroking her stomach before reaching for her breast, and though she had been scared before now she was terrified. She protested immediately, squirming around to dislodge his hand, forcibly pushing it away only for it to come straight back. Having no regard for what he was doing to her he cupped her breast at his leisure, a soft laugh echoing in his throat as he moved to the other one next.

"Open it…now."

Again she shook her head, but her resolve started to crumble when he lowered his hand and started lifting her dress, and despite her struggles he slipped his hand underneath and placed it on her thigh. She stopped thinking now, wanting only to stop what he was doing to her as the possibility of being raped suddenly became very real to her. Gaining a moment of success she slammed the pointed heel of her shoe into the top of his foot, satisfied by the painful growl he made, but he was relentless in his attempt to terrorise her into cooperation. Perhaps toeing the line of actually assaulting her any further Pete moved his hand in small increments, slowly moving upwards, and it was then that her resolve broke. Memories rushed back in one intense, startling moment, and when she remembered those men on top of her, touching her, it was then that her resolve broke.

She started nodding, verbally making her cooperation heard as best she could with his hand over her mouth. Finally Pete seemed satisfied, his hand on her inner thigh coming to a halt, but he didn't remove it. Keeping it there he gestured to the combination lock on the gun safe, prompting her to open it. Trembling, and forced to use her newly injured hand, Carrie entered the six digit combination, but intentionally entered an incorrect digit. As she expected it to a red light appeared above the handle, a soft buzz indicating that she had gotten it wrong.

"Try again."

Doing as instructed she entered the same combination. She couldn't let Pete have whatever was in this gun safe, no matter what he did to her. Once he got his hands on a gun he would kill her, he would kill anyone within sight until he was stopped, she was certain of it.

Frustrated with her he wrenched her over to the other gun safe, gesturing to it as he removed his hand from her mouth. "Open it!"

Still feigning cooperation she did as was instructed, entering the incorrect combination again. "Rick must have changed it," she whispered hoarsely, wishing her voice sounded stronger, more confident.

"Don't lie to me," he growled, digging his fingertips into her thigh as warning. "Open it."

"I'm trying," she gasped, trying to relieve the uncomfortable pressure of his fingertips. "He must have changed it."

He didn't waste any more time arguing and instead suddenly stepped away and wrenched her back, the motion making her lose her balance. Her feet slipped out from under her and she fell, landing awkwardly on the pile of supplies and scrambling to orient herself. She lunged to grab something, anything she could use to protect herself, but just like before Pete was on her before she could do anything. He seized her underneath the knees and dragged her with all the ease of a child and toy, growling at her as he avoided her attempt to kick him. His hand covered her mouth, his body pinning her down as his face loomed over hers, completely in control, and there was nothing she could do. She struggled, her arms and legs flailing beneath him, but his strength was far superior. In seconds he rendered her motionless, his knees pinning her legs down while he used one arm to hold both of hers aside.

A long moment passed in silence, Carrie breathing heavily through her nose as she looked up at him. He smiled at her innocently, the same charismatic smile that had won her trust the day she met him upon arriving in Alexandria. She'd never been so wrong in her life, and now she was paying for it. He warned her to be quiet as he removed his hand from her mouth, and she obeyed, not wanting to do anything that might draw Carl near. If they were lucky he might think she had returned to the celebrations and follow her there.

"If I can't have mine," Pete whispered, looking her in the eye. "Then he can't have his either."

She didn't understand what he was saying, there was no way for her to even try comprehending it in that moment. All she could think of was the way he held her down, taking complete control and forcing her to submit. It didn't matter how much she had changed and grown in the last year, she couldn't take being raped again, she couldn't possibly survive it a second time. As she started to cry her previous intention to protect Carl changed, and now she wanted to scream and call for help, but panic had almost rendered her mute.

Taking advantage of her silence, Pete tested her by lowering his hand to the top of her leg. In the scuffle her dress had been pushed up, and he quickly took advantage of her vulnerability. As if it was no big deal he moved his hand up her leg to the front of her hip, touching her at his leisure, and when he slipped his fingers underneath the side of her underwear bile began to rise in her throat. She tried to struggle, to get his hands away from her, but he was far too strong. He knew exactly what he was doing, how to terrorise her into cooperation.

"You're going to open the safe," he said calmly, his breath hot against her neck. "Do you understand? You're going to open it."

"P-Pete, don't," she finally managed to say, her voice small and weak. She struggled when he ignored her again, desperately trying to pull her legs out from under him while his hand continued stroking the front of her hip. "Please, get off me…"

To her disbelief Pete stopped now, but his attention was not on her. Very suddenly he sat up, the motion causing him to dig his knees into her thighs and eliciting a pained gasp from her. She trembled as she lay beneath him, her breaths shaky and her eyes wet as she tried to collect herself. Finally she turned her head and looked at what had captured Pete's attention, her heart sinking even further when she saw Carl standing in the garage doorway. There was a long moment of silence, all three people shocked into silence. Struggling to figure out what he was seeing Carl looked at the scene in horror, trying to connect the dots. He looked at Carrie, and as he took in her trembling hands and wet eyes he drew his own conclusions.

"Well this is awkward," Pete laughed awkwardly, moving off her. "Looks like we've been caught."

Carl didn't buy it, his eyes darting back to Carrie. Noticing this, Pete swiftly grabbed her dress and pulled it back down as if he was trying to shield her privacy. Her body paralysed with fear she stayed stock still, watching Carl and waiting for something to happen, anything. _Run, Carl…please make a run for it._ Instead he did the opposite, his eyes fixated on Pete as he came into the garage, and it was a few moments before she realised what he was doing. His movements cautious so as to not startle Pete, he began reaching for the handheld radio that was kept on the desk by the security camera monitors. Just as she realised this so too did Pete, and he acted swiftly to stop Carl calling for help.

"Don't," he growled at Carl. Grabbing Carrie by the elbow he roughly hauled her up onto her knees, and she didn't fight him him as he moved behind her, winding his arms around her waist and embracing her as if they were lovers. "Get him out of here," he whispered into her ear. "Or I'll tell him about his whore mother."

She didn't even need to consider the threat. "Carl," she said abruptly, stopping him in his tracks. "Don't."

"What?" he said, looking at her in disbelief. He looked at Pete too, horrified by the way he was touching her.

"Get him out of here," Pete repeated, tightening his arms around her waist. "Now."

"Go and get your dad," she said firmly, forcing herself to sound stronger than she felt. Carl had to see her in control, he had to see that she was confident and assured, or else he'd never leave.

"No!" he exclaimed, looking at her incredulously. Ignoring her instructions he picked up the radio and reached for the power button.

"Carl!" she said again, raising her voice a little. "Now!"

To her relief he stopped and looked at her, torn between his instincts and what he was being told to do. "But -"

"Go and get your dad," she said impatiently, hastening him. "Bring him here in person. Now."

Still he hesitated, but just as Carrie was about to repeat her instructions he finally complied. He lowered the radio and set it back on the desk, his expression anguished about what he was doing. His every instinct must be telling him to stay, to protect her rather than listen to her instructions, but she only prayed he left. Rick had made it abundantly clear that he wanted to protect his son from the truth, and that if he had to know he needed to learn in the right way, from the right person. He was protecting his son's heart, and that responsibility was now in Carrie's hands too. Not only did she have to protect his heart, she had to protect him, period. He couldn't be here right now, he couldn't be involved in whatever it was Pete was planning to do to her. Turning away Carl's help was a risk she had to take…a risk she was willing to take.

"Go," she repeated, trying to force him to leave. "Get out of here, now!"

"Okay," he said very quietly, beginning to back out of the garage and into the hallway. "Pete, don't do anything to her…okay?"

"Just get your Dad," Pete requested, placating his fears. "Then everything will be fine."

Carrie breathed a sigh of relief when Carl tore his eyes off her and left, his footsteps rushed as he disappeared from sight. Pete too seemed to breath a sigh of relief, his arms around her waist loosening a little. A few seconds passed before her let her go completely and got to his feet, but he placed his hand on the crown of her head to keep her down. Trying to claw back some ounce of control she shook her head and tried to move away, trying to put some distance between them. She was surrounded by a variety of innocuous items that could make a weapon, but they were all just out of her reach. Now that Carl was gone she could take that risk, she could try for one of them, but Pete wouldn't allow it. He clenched his hand into her hair, pulling it tightly as he ushered her back to her knees.

"Stay exactly like that," he instructed, moving closer so that his legs were pressed against her shoulders. "I want him to find you on your knees in front of another man," he said cruelly, still holding her hair. "Like I said, if I can't have mine then he can't have his."

Carrie closed her eyes for a moment, finally understanding what he meant. _He has everything he's taken away from me._ While his family was falling apart, Rick's was coming together, and he couldn't stand to see it…he wasn't doing this to hurt Carrie, he was doing this to hurt Rick, to take her away from him. Pete was exacting his revenge on Rick, avenging his broken family as if he wasn't the one who had broken them in the first place. Seconds passed in silence, Carrie still catching her breath as she glanced at Pete, uncomfortably aware of his proximity. He wanted Rick to find her on her knees in front of someone else, but how far was he going to go with that?

She took a deep breath, trying to steady herself. "I thought you and Rick talked," she began, trying to reason with him. "He said you sorted things out."

"We talked?" Pete questioned, laughing at her. "Is that what he told you?"

"He sa-"

Wrenching her head back a little, Pete bent down and growled into her ear. "He came to me in the middle of the night…the whole group. They tied me up, said they were going to choke me to death and then dump my body with the Roamers in the sewer. Said he'd tell my boys that I was running away like a coward…he'd say that to my boys!" he shouted.

Looking through the garage door into the hallway, she watched as the shadows moved. Someone was coming, but surely Rick couldn't be there so quickly? "Let me go," she insisted, focusing on that one request. "Let me go, or he'll kill you for this."

"I know he will…just as long as I get his first."

Just as he said this he suddenly stood up, a sharp tug on her scalp making her cry out in pain and fear. She resisted with everything she had, certain that this was the moment he snapped, that he was going to push her down and start raping her. Rick would catch him in the act, and though it would be his own death sentence there was no denying that it would extract the vengeance Pete was seeking. But he wasn't pushing her to the ground, rather he was pulling her up to her feet instead, her eyes watering in pain as he yanked at her hair until she stood. Similar to before Pete stood behind her, putting his arms around her waist and holding her close, but only then did she realise what he was doing, that she had just become a human shield. She gave a low groan of frustration when she saw who it was arriving.

Carl was back, standing in the threshold of the garage with a gun pointed in their direction. He looked remarkably calm given the situation, but his presence was not a reassurance for Carrie. Why wasn't he listening to her? He was supposed to get out of there, to find safety for himself instead of trying to help her.

"Carl, go!" she shouted angrily. "Get out!"

He ignored her, coming further into the garage and closing in on them, his approach forcing Pete to back up. "Let her go, now."

Pete chuckled at this, keeping his face behind Carrie's head for protection. "Kid's got balls, I'll give him that," he whispered. "Let's tell him…"

"Carl, listen to me," she said firmly, catching his gaze and holding it. "I want you to go. Please."

Shaking his head he came closer again. "Let her go, or I'll shoot you."

Unconcerned, Pete laughed loudly, the volume making Carrie shudder. "Really? You'll shoot me?" he goaded. "You'll shoot her too then. Who's going to save her if I'm dead, huh?"

Still laughing, Pete continued goading Carl, enticing him to come closer yet again by lowering one hand from Carrie's waist. "Are you going to let me do this to her?" he questioned as he slipped his hand under her dress again. "Aren't you going to stop me?"

"Let her go!"

"Carl, please!" she shouted again. "Get out of here!"

As Pete shoved his hand between her legs and groped her she did the only thing she could think of to stop him. Kicking off one of her heels she immediately lowered her height a few inches, dislodging his hand enough that she could shove it aside completely. Carl was quick to take advantage of this, moving his finger to the trigger the moment Pete's head was exposed, but his opportunity was gone as Pete quickly adapted and took cover again.

He laughed again, teasing them both. "Nice try," he whispered against the back of her neck. "That was good."

Carrie ignored him, holding eye contact with Carl. "I want you to go," she said lowly, her voice low and steady. "There's nothing you can do. Please go."

"I'll tell him," Pete decided, no longer bothering to keep his voice low.

The comment made Carl falter, his attention lapsing for a moment. "Tell me what?"

"Carl, you're going to get hurt if you stay," she said urgently. "Go!"

"Look at her Carl," Pete continued, moving closer to him. "A love bite on her neck, sexy underwear, no bra. No wonder your dad will fuck this bitch any chance he gets. I bet she su-"

"Stop it," Carl shouted angrily, his finger moving back to the trigger. "Let go of her!"

"Carl! Carl, look at me," she said urgently, repeating herself until he did. She held his gaze, ignoring Pete when he reached up and put his hand over her breast. This had gone on for long enough, she had to take a risk and do something, but she couldn't do it while Carl was so close to them. "Step back, please…take a few steps back."

He looked at her incredulously, his eyes constantly flicking between she and Pete, but incredibly he finally obeyed. Never lowering his gun, Carl hesitantly began moving away, putting space between himself and them as he backed away to the other side of the garage.

"Does he satisfy you in the bedroom, Carrie?" Pete asked next, speaking loudly enough for Carl to hear. "Do you think that's why Lori stepped out on him? Because he didn't keep her screaming his name?"

"Don't listen to him, Carl!" she said loudly, seeing the confusion that was crossing his face. "He's full of shit, he's trying to provoke you!"

"Am I?" Pete laughed. "Why don't you ask your sister, huh? Let's ask your sist-"

Desperate to stop him finishing that sentence Carrie reached out with her foot and kicked at the workbench on her left, the loud rattle of tools and metal drowning out what Pete said. As she kicked a second time Pete stumbled, his grip loosening just enough to almost free her. Before she could try again the enormous sound of a gunshot made her cry out, the motion of falling making her certain she had been shot. There was barely a split second to comprehend that she wasn't hurt, the shock of hitting the ground rendering her silent in that crucial moment. She looked up to see Carl on the other side of the garage, advancing on them to seek a clearer shot. In that moment she felt a brief reassurance that a shot had been fired, that help must now be coming, but her relief was short lived.

Still using her to shield himself, Pete wrenched her back upright and took a step towards Carl, and that was all he needed her for. It seemed he had made a split second decision, realising that it was going to be over in seconds, that his opportunity was almost gone. What he was doing to them wasn't personal, it wasn't them he was really trying to hurt. It was Rick he wanted to hurt, and he knew what would cause the most agony. His target changing, Pete roughed shoved her aside and lunged for Carl.

What would hurt Rick the most? The death of his girlfriend, or his child?

Carrie knew what was going to happen before she could even look, before she could do anything to stop it. There was a struggle, the sound of supplies being kicked and stepped over as Carl and Pete briefly fought for the gun, and then it was over. The second gunshot was as deafening as the first, the sound tormenting her, and she was screaming before she even looked. She raised her head just in time to see Carl stagger back a few steps, his shoulders slumping as he turned to her and revealed the horrific injury to his face. His lips moved as he tried to say something to her, but before he could say it he collapsed, his body crumpling to the floor with the type of finality that only came with death.

She acted without the conscious decision to do so, and she scrambled to her feet and rushed over to where he lay, pushing Pete aside as she went. Sinking to her knees she tentatively reached for Carl, turning his head and seeing for the first time what had really happened. Blood was coursing down the right side of his face, and though her instinct was to stem its flow she didn't know where to start. _No, no, no_ _,_ the mantra in her head chanted as she dissolved into denial. She had to take this back, she had to do something. They needed to swap places, there was still time for them to change things…Carl couldn't die.

"Pete, help him!" she started screaming, even though he was the one who had hurt him. "Help him!"

Knowing she was on her own here she lunged to the centre of the garage where the safe house supplies were, hastily grabbing one of the blankets that sat on top of the pile. She had to apply pressure to the wound, to stem the blood steadily coursing down Carl's face onto the floor below, but she never got the chance. Before she could turn back to him, before she could offer pointless words of reassurance to his unconscious form she was being hauled away from him, Pete looping his arm around her waist and effortlessly pulling her back. As her ability to help Carl vanished she started screaming again, her body acting without thought as she struggled against her attacker. Her efforts to fight him off were in vain, for he was far to strong for her, she had no chance. They collapsed to the ground together, Pete snarling when she lashed out and hit him across the face with her cast, but he was relentless. Just like before he subdued her with unfair ease, straddling her legs and pinning her down.

Her screams for help were abruptly silenced when his hands moved around her throat, the sudden tightness startling her before she realised what was happening. She gave a small gasp, drawing a difficult breath as she reached up and tried to move his hands, but when they tightened again she started to panic, realising that she was now fighting for her life as well as Carl's. Pete was going to kill her, he was going to strangle her right here in her own home, and she couldn't stop him. On the inside she was screaming, her heart filled with terror as she started fighting him, thrashing around as she clawed at his hands to push them off, scratching and digging her fingernails in. His grip lapsed for a brief moment that allowed her to suck in a gulp of air, almost getting her fingers underneath his before he readjusted his grip again.

Surely she'd never felt anything so painful, there'd never been anything as awful as the pain in her throat and the desperation to take a breath, her chest heaving for the oxygen it wouldn't get. Though in reality the attack had only last seconds it felt like forever, Carrie feeling every excruciating moment. Her strength waned as the seconds slipped by, her will to fight for her life beginning to feel too burdensome. Above her Pete was staring at the opposite wall, not even giving her the respect of looking her in the eye as he killed her. Determined to claw his very eyes out she reached for his face, her despair growing when she couldn't reach and was forced to settle for clawing at his arms. He had his knees pressed onto her legs, stopping her from doing anything other than flailing around beneath him. She had nothing with which to protect herself, no weapon of any kind that was within her reach.

Conscious throughout every moment she dug her fingernails into his wrists and held them there, but she turned her attention to Carl. She looked at him in despair, unable to believe that she couldn't help him, that she couldn't save Rick's son. Blood was pooling around his head, movement from his leg indicating that he was still alive, but she couldn't do anything. They were going to die here, and Rick would be left with nothing. Her death he could survive, of that she was confident, but Carl's death? He'd never be the same man again.

As this thought occurred to her, suddenly it was over. The weight on top of her gently eased, Pete's hands around her neck releasing without warning. Immediately the pain stopped, her release allowing her to draw the most beautiful and painful breath of her life. Laying prone she sucked in the air as quickly as she could, feeling it enter her throat and fill her lungs in a painful rattle, but it didn't matter. A fogginess she only just noticed began to clear from her head, her mind catching up to the realisation that she was alright, but with clarity came a different type of pain. Daryl was there, and he fell to his knees beside Carl with an agonised moan. Never in her months of knowing him had she seen Daryl crying, had she seen such anguish and devastation on his face, but it revealed itself to her in that moment. She could hear Abraham's voice too, growing closer and closer as he rushed to the scene. With the knowledge that someone was helping Carl, Carrie turned her attention elsewhere.

The only thing she wanted to do right now was lay down on the floor, to catch her breath and take stock of everything that hurt, but it was not over yet. Each breath strained her throat as she turned her head and looked to her left, her panic returning when she found Pete laying right beside her propped up on his elbow. She scrambled to get away from him, her legs almost giving out as she collapsed onto the nearby supplies and then settled there, unable to go any further. Confident with the space between them she stayed where she was, still gasping for breath as she looked at him with a sense of satisfaction. His eyes were focused and attentive as he looked at Daryl's bolt that had entered his right lower abdomen and broken through to the other side. Taking slow breaths he tentatively assessed the entry wound, wincing and gasping as he pulled his shirt away. The sight of him actually applying his own first aid made her laugh, though her amusement quickly turned into a wince of pain. At the sound he looked up and made eye contact with her. There was no hint of the malice that had driven him to attack her and Carl, but there was no regret either. He simply looked at her, his expression blank except for the resolute understanding that she had won this round.

Her legs were barely able to hold her as she struggled to her feet, but she was determined. From the corner of her eye she noted that Abraham had hauled Carl into his arms, his legs swinging limply as he was rushed out of the garage and to the Infirmary. It was the knowledge that he was being cared for that allowed her to focus on what had to happen next. Bypassing the myriad of items that could be a weapon she found the one she wanted, abandoned by it's owner in his haste to get to Carl. Daryl was still there, lingering in horror while Abraham went on ahead, but he caught her eye and realised what she was doing. He lunged for his abandoned crossbow, knowing that she didn't know how to use it, but she beat them there and grabbed it first. The weapon was heavy and difficult to wield, but neither that nor Daryl's protest stopped her from taking it. She didn't need to know how to load it in order to use it.

Carrie always thought that if she did something like this it would be in the heat of the moment, that she would have snapped, that she wouldn't truly be in control of herself. But as she came over to Pete and raised the crossbow above her head she acknowledged that she was in complete control. She knew exactly what she was doing, it was a conscious decision she made and carried out. Pete looked up as she took the first swing, giving her the satisfaction of showing a glimpse of fear before the first blow. She brought the crossbow down on his head as hard as she could, feeling the metal reverberate as it connected with his skull. The force sent the weapon tumbling from her fingertips, her strength weakened by the growing pain in her already broken wrist, but she wasn't done yet.

 _"…you're part of a group that includes my children," Rick had told her once. "One day, you're going to have to kill for them."_

She wasn't done yet. She thought about what Pete had told Carl about his mother, about what he had done to him, what he had done to her. As he groaned in pain and collapsed onto his side she scrambled to pick up the fallen crossbow again, wasting no time before raising it and then bringing it down again. It didn't matter that he was their best doctor, that Maggie might need him in the final weeks of her pregnancy, the moment he had attacked that day he had signed his own death warrant. There was no way Pete was going to survive this. If she didn't kill him, Rick would, and there'd be a line behind him after…this one was for her, she was entitled to this kill. Every blow she delivered brought the relief she was seeking, the satisfaction she was more than entitled to, that she deserved. When she was certain that Pete was dead she didn't raise the crossbow again, but she stood over him and looked, catching her breath. Slumped over and his face unrecognisable he lay completely still, casting no doubt in her mind that he was dead.

She stepped back and admired her handiwork from afar, looking at the blood on the walls before glancing down at herself. The beautiful dress she had worn for Rick was covered in blood, she could taste it in her mouth, she could feel it on her face. She looked down at Daryl's crossbow she still held in her left hand, watching as blood dripped to the floor below it. The only thing she could comprehend was the fact she had broken it, a piece of metal dangling from one of the long broken wires. Feeling as though she'd desecrated a Bible she tentatively lowered it to the floor and put it down, pausing for a few moments as she looked at Pete's body a little longer. He was still motionless, finally no longer a threat to Rick's family.

There was a flood of warmth across her lips, and the taste of blood intensified as she realised her nose was bleeding. It took a moment for her to react, and it was with a shuddering breath that she raised her hand to her face and tried to stem the flow, feeling it trickling over her hands and down her arms. It was this sensation that snapped her back to the reality of what was happening, the trickle reminding her of the way the blood trailed down Carl's cheek, the expression of surprise on his face as he collapsed. As if realising for the first time that he had actually been shot Carrie gave a low cry of horror, the sound tearing at her throat as she turned and looked past Daryl. Carl's blood was all over the floor, bloody hand and foot prints smeared all around.

She looked up at Daryl and tried to speak, to ask if Carl was okay even though he knew little more than she did, but the words wouldn't come. Instead it was a garbled whine that came out of her mouth, an indistinguishable plea for him to make things all right, for him to do something, anything. But like she had expected he seemed to give no reaction, his mouth twisted into an anguished grimace as he looked between the blood on the floor and Pete's corpse, wondering how this had happened under his watch, while he was only three houses away. The two of them stood there motionless, trying to comprehend it all.

Moments later they were surrounded, panicked questions and people filling the previously silent garage. Carrie stood motionless as a blanket was wrapped around her shoulders, and it took firm instructions from Carol to make her pay attention to what was happening. Unwilling to waste time, Carol's instructions were abrupt and clear, and she gave Carrie a gentle shake to awaken her, to make her listen. She complied, glancing over her shoulder at Pete's corpse before shakily following Carol out of the garage. The influx of people and activity was overwhelming, forcing Carrie to lower her eyes as she let Carol lead her wherever they were going.

"Sit down," Carol said firmly.

Feeling gentle pressure on her upper arms Carrie did as she was told, turning around and then sinking onto the staircase. She shivered despite the warmth of the blanket around her shoulders, feeling like she couldn't get enough air from the small gasps she was taking in. Trying to keep herself together she looked past all the worried onlookers and looked at the front door, desperate for someone to arrive and tell her that Carl was okay, that it looked worse than it was. But no one appeared, no one could offer this comfort because he wasn't okay. He was dying…Carl was going to die.

"Carrie, look at me," Carol said abruptly, taking her upper arms and squeezing them. "Look at me…now hold your breath."

She tried to speak, to explain that she couldn't, but the pain in her neck and throat had returned. "I ca…" she managed to croak.

"Yes, you can. Hold your breath," she insisted, moving face to face until she did. "Hold it…longer."

It took everything she had to do as Carol asked, her body hungering for air she was now denying it, but she held her breath and then slowly released it with Carol's encouragement. With the release came a sense of calm, Carrie slowly beginning to feel like she was back in control of her body, that it was no longer under attack. She inhaled slowly and gently, but even as she felt her head clearing and her panic easing the discomfort in her throat remained, taunting her. She tried to raise her hands and touch her neck, needing to relieve the pain, but Carol stopped her and batted her hands away.

"Good. Keep breathing slowly, just like that," Carol encouraged, pulling back and giving her a little more space. Readjusting the blanket around Carrie's shoulders she turned away and said something to one of the concerned onlookers.

Trying to control herself from the desperate need to get up and run to the Infirmary where Carl was, she closed her eyes and breathed, grateful when someone sat beside her and took her hand in theirs. For a moment she allowed herself a brief fantasy, imagining that it was Rick beside her, that it was him holding her hand. But she knew it wasn't, she knew that his place right now was not beside her, and so she wasn't disappointed when she opened her eyes and found Daryl. The hand that held hers was shaking, his expression distraught and his face turned away to hide his fear.

"Hold this against your nose," Carol said, wrapping an ice pack in a hand towel and passing it to her. "Daryl? Hold this one against her leg, right here."

Carrie did as she was told and held the towel to her face, stemming the blood flow while Daryl slipped his hands under the blanket. Doing as Carol instructed he pressed the ice pack against her inner thigh, the motion making her flinch in pain. She could still feel Pete kneeling on top of her, using his knees to hold her legs down while his hands assaulted her, and when Carter suddenly appeared by her other side the sudden influx of people became overwhelming. She trembled as she dissolved into a flood of tears, unable to hold them at bay any longer. Trying to breathe through the uncomfortable whimpers that scratched her throat she looked at the front door, waiting someone to come through it and tell her that Carl was alright, that he wasn't dead. But like before the only thing she could see there were the horrified onlookers, Glenn and Eugene out on the front porch telling people to go away, to give them some privacy. She could hear Jessie somewhere outside, probably having received the news that her husband was dead. Still she kept waiting, willing someone to come and tell her that Carl was going to be alright.

A sharp pain in her right hand made her gasp out loud, Carter giving a hasty apology as she brought it to her chest. She looked up at him in confusion, slowly realising why he was there beside her. In his hands he held pruning shears, and when she looked down at her arm she made the connection when she saw her plaster cast. Jessie's beautiful artwork was ruined not only by the blood, but by the hasty attempt to cut the plaster off her arm, to relieve the pressure and swelling Carrie hadn't yet noticed. She looked at it in horror, unable to stomach the sight of the painted owls. Carter had cut straight through their faces, and the spattering of red made it look like they were bleeding, that he had hurt them.

"We have to get this cast off you," Carol said firmly, her tone leaving no room for argument.

She took Carrie's arm and then moved it back to where it had been resting in Carter's lap, and she prompted him to get back to work. With another apology he continued, hacking away at the cast and taking care to not cut her with the sheers. Piece by piece the plaster cast fell apart, and a minute later it was gone completely, the broken remnants scattered over the stairs. Carrie took a deep breath and looked away from it, turning her attention back to the front door yet again. Still no one was there, no one was bringing her the news she needed to hear. She heard someone calling for Tobin, telling him to get to the Infirmary immediately.

"Carrie, listen to me," Carol began, her tone softening now the urgency of the situation had eased. "You can't help him now. He's with Denise, there's nothing else we can do. We just have to wait."

Of course Carol would know what she was thinking, what it was that was making her want to fall to her knees and scream. She nodded to indicate that she had heard, but Carol's words had no reassuring effect, they were of little help. Shuddering for breath she tried to speak, to explain what had happened and justify her actions. They had to know that she'd tried to help him, that she'd tried to get him out of there. _Why couldn't he just leave her? Why couldn't he just do as he was told?_ Carol had to know that she'd done everything she could. She had to tell Rick that she'd done everything she could.

"He wouldn't leave me," she finally managed to say, her hoarse voice sounding as though it didn't belong to her. Every word grated at her throat, the discomfort worsening, but she continued. Carol had to know. "I tried to-"

"I know," she said reassuringly.

"I tried to help him," she moaned, picturing Carl laying motionless on the garage floor, bleeding from the face. "But Pete, he - he just…Pete…"

She trailed off as Daryl stood up abruptly, the ice pack he held against her leg falling to the floor as he brushed past Carol and left. Not looking back he marched out the front door, loudly swearing at Aaron who tried to follow him. Carrie had no doubt about where he was going, and it wasn't to the Infirmary. Daryl was going for the walls, escaping the hell he'd walked into. As she watched him go Carrie dissolved into tears again, wishing that she could follow him, that she too could escape reality by running away. Knowing it was best to just let him go Carol stayed by her side, picking up the abandoned ice pack and returning it to the inside of her thigh.

"You killed him, didn't you," Carol stated.

When Carrie looked at her again she was surprised to see the small smile playing on her lips, her expression almost making her look proud. Perhaps she was. As she summoned the breath to answer her question Carrie turned to her left and looked towards the garage, picturing the scene in her mind's eye, remembering the patterns of blood on the walls and ceiling, remembering the way the crossbow shuddered every time it connected with Pete's head.

"Yes," she stated clearly, taking another deep breath. "I killed him."

There was a long pause, Carrie waiting with bated breath for Carol's final reaction. No one would ever hold Pete's death against her, not after what he had just done to her and Carl, her actions were entirely justified. But she knew that Carol's reaction would set the precedent for how this situation was handled at a family level, how the death would be managed going forward.

Carol smiled, taking Carrie's hand and giving it a squeeze. "Good."

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A/N Phew, so glad that chapter is over now! I hope you guys enjoyed how I twisted the Season 5 and 6 story lines of Pete and Carl into one, and that you enjoyed the chapter just as much as I enjoyed writing it! The events of this chapter are huge and impactful for the characters, and in small ways set into motion the story lines and characters of the next story (which is of course a sequel!). Please review, thanks!


	54. Chapter 54

A/N - Lighthearted disclaimer - I'm not a nurse! My medical degree is from Professor Google, so if I have made ridiculous mistakes please feel free to point them out in a kind/constructive manner. Thanks all.

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In later months Rick would look back on this moment with only vague recollections, foggy memories that consisted of the all too familiar feeling of dread. Though he would spend quite some time playing it in his head over and over again, the details of what happened and what was said were nothing compared to the spiralling loss of control and inability to help. When he'd recognised the body in Abraham's arms as his child, everything else that might be going on in Alexandria vanished. Panicked thoughts of where Carrie was slipped from his mind as he looked at Carl, seeing only his limp arms and legs swaying, the horrific wound on his face from which a steady stream of blood was coursing. So horrified was he that Abraham managed to run straight past him, ignoring his weak enquiry as to what had happened. While Glenn and the others kept running to the sound of the gunshot Rick followed his son, Michonne rushing ahead and opening the Infirmary door.

"Denise!" Abraham roared at the panicked flurry of residents who had followed. "Someone find Denise, now!"

In seconds Carl was inside, set down onto the gurney Michonne brought to meet them at the door. While Abraham seized the sheets from a nearby bed and pressed them against Carl's face the Infirmary suddenly filled with activity, panicked shouts calling for bandages and towels. Rick on the other hand was silent, horror rendering him speechless as he approached his son's bedside. Had he ever seen his child so small and helpless? He lay motionless, one arm hanging from the bed, a far cry from the young man going through a growth spurt that saw him outgrow two pairs of shoes in as many months. Needing to be by his side, to see for himself what the injuries were Rick came closer. Without consciously deciding to do so he reached for Carl's neck and began feeling for a pulse. As he waited to feel the throb an awful pressure began building in his head, his mind going numb when he struggled to find it. He couldn't feel anything…Carl was dead.

"Everyone get back. Move!" Denise shouted, her tone leaving no room for argument. She strode past the panicked onlookers into the Infirmary, casting her eyes over Carl as she headed for the kitchen and pulled on some gloves. "This is a gunshot?"

"Point blank range," Abraham said, still holding the bedsheets against Carl's face.

"Rick, step back," she instructed, coming over to Carl's side. "Move, now."

His fingers were still pressed against Carl's neck when he tried to speak, to tell her that he couldn't feel a pulse, that she had to do something. She had to save him, he needed to tell her that, but the words wouldn't come out of his mouth. It wasn't until he felt someone tugging on his arm that he finally complied with Denise's instructions.

"Denise," he finally managed to say. "Sa-"

"Where's the exit wound?" she asked, ignoring him.

"None. It's non-penetrating."

This answer made Denise pause. A moment passed before she took a stethoscope from a nearby cart and fixed the buds into her ear, and the entire Infirmary collectively held their breath as she pressed the speaker to Carl's chest. She moved it around and then closed her eyes. Her shoulder's slumped for a moment, making Rick think the worst.

"Is he dead?" Rick asked hoarsely, needing to know. He swayed where he stood, waiting for the answer. "Denise?"

Again she ignored his question, and she stood straight as she removed the ear buds and hung the stethoscope around her neck. She took a quick look around the Infirmary, taking in who was there and who was not. "Spencer, I need IVs from the fridge and all the clean towels you can find," she instructed calmly. "Abraham stay right there, keep pressure on the wound."

"I'll cannulate," Brody offered, already inserting himself into the flurry and pulling on some gloves. "Annie, can you bring over a monitor? We'll need his vitals."

"Denise," Rick began again, needing an answer. "Is he-"

"He's still alive, Rick," she stated, lifting the blood soaked sheets and looking at the wound. "I need you to stay where you are, don't come any closer."

As everyone crowded around the bed and Rick got pushed further and further back the pressure in his head began to grow, his body trembling with the need to do something for his son, to do anything. He couldn't stand there motionless, he needed to help him, to fix this. Swaying on his feet he pressed his hands against his face, the growing pressure in his head needing a release. It was beyond his comprehension that there wasn't anything he could do, that he was incapable of helping his son. Surely it wasn't too late…there had to be time to fix things, to go back and change what happened. Allowing himself a few moments of anguish Rick finally looked up again, watching as everyone bustled around, Annie pressing round stickers onto Carl's chest and attaching long wires to them.

"I - I don't know how to turn this on," she said, her face alight in panic as she looked around for help. "Pete never showed me…Spencer? Can you help?"

In an instant Rick felt something change, the anguish and terror he felt beginning to recede from his body. There was nothing he could do to help his son, but that didn't mean he had to stand there doing nothing at all. His hands clenched as he remembered who must have done this to Carl, who must be responsible for hurting him. Pete had disappeared from the celebrations, his whereabouts unaccounted for when the gunshots were fired. This was him, it had to be, and Rick knew exactly what he needed to do about it too. He had already turned to track down this mongrel and kill him as promised, pushing away those who tried to stop him leaving.

"I need Pete," Denise called out loudly, she and Abraham swiftly swapping the bloodied sheets for surgical towels. "Someone find him, now."

"No Pete," Abraham said.

These words made Rick stop in his tracks, the entire Infirmary falling silent again as they turned to Abraham. Rick turned too, his train of thought coming to a startling halt. Had he heard correctly? No Pete?

"I don't care what's going on," Denise said impatiently, holding the towels against the wound. "I need him. There's an artery severed, it could be the ophthalmic. I can't st -"

"No Pete," Abraham repeated firmly, looking Denise in the eye. "Trust me…no Pete."

The silence continued, everyone looking to Denise as this news sunk in. No Pete…was it really that simple? Rick watched Denise's face, willing her to handle the situation, to take control like he knew she could. It barely registered in his mind that Pete had to be dead, for in that moment his satisfaction was eclipsed by the flash of panic in Denise's eyes, her realisation that she was doing this alone. She looked at Carl and then closed her eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath.

"Denise," he croaked, starting back towards her. "Do something, please."

She looked him in the eye and nodded, though her confidence appeared to be lacking. "Get Carrie or Francine," she instructed someone else. "They have steady hands, I'll need them to -"

"No Carrie either."

At this statement Rick swayed precariously, reaching out and pressing his hand against the wall to steady himself. This was too much…too much was happening at once. He felt faint, his head was spinning as he struggled to comprehend the enormity of what was happening. Until now he hadn't been able to spare a thought for the woman he loved, but now? _No Carrie either_ …she was dead too. His knees buckled beneath him, his head feeling as though he had to fight for consciousness. This couldn't be happening…he couldn't lose Carl and Carrie, he wouldn't survive it.

As he allowed himself to sink down to the floor he looked up at his son and watched them working on him, determined to keep himself together. If Carl died he needed his father by his side, he deserved that much. Rick barely noticed when Michonne left his side to help Denise, nor that Rosita had abandoned the eastern watch post and was currently tightening a tourniquet around his upper arm before piercing the crook of his elbow to draw blood. As the excess people were ushered out of the Infirmary and Denise began her work Rick sat quietly on the floor, watching on in silence. Despite not having Pete there by her side Denise seemed to be completely in control, only a slight look of uncertainty revealing itself on her face as she and Francine removed some of the towels and started working on Carl's injury.

Without warning a sound broke Rick from his thoughts, one of the most beautiful sounds he had heard in all his life. From the monitor that Annie and Spencer were working on came a steady beep, the screen illuminating to show a lines of peaks and troughs of a heart beat. Carl was alive, his pulse making itself known to all those who were desperately waiting for it. In that moment Rick felt himself steadying, his foggy mind clearing up and bringing him back to earth. In this moment he was exactly where he needed to be, and the sound of Carl's pulse affirmed that for him.

Taking a deep breath he looked down at his left arm, watching as his blood drained from his body into a bag, collected and ready to help save his son. He watched it pooling for a few minutes, his eyes focused on that while he listened to Denise and the others working. This was the third time Carl had been shot, and as he dwelled on this he recalled a superstition common among law enforcement and health professionals. _It comes in threes_. Three car car wrecks, three bar fights, three unexpected deaths. This was the third time Carl had been shot, and Rick told himself this would be the third time he pulled through, the third time he beat all the odds. Minutes or hours passed, he didn't know which, and then finally came the time he'd been waiting for. While Rosita disconnected the small bag of Rick's blood and attached an empty one, Sasha appeared by his other side with a juice box in hand.

"Drink this," she instructed. "Then Denise says you can come over."

He tried to brush off the juice, claiming he didn't need it, but Sasha wouldn't hear of it. The idea of taking care of his own body was incomprehensible, but he knew that more blood was going to be taken from him, that if he had any intention of being there for his son he needed to be conscious. Doing as he was told he started to drink, looking up and noticing that Tobin was in the Infirmary too, he too giving blood for Carl, and not for the first time either. Rick didn't have the capacity to extend his gratitude, unable to do anything other than let Sasha help him back to his feet before taking him over to Carl's side.

Just like before he lay still and silent on the bed, a small amount of blood already being transfused. His heart beat in a steady rhythm, it's slow pace indicating that all was well. On the other side of the bed Michonne was cutting Carl's clothing off while Annie thoughtfully covered him with a blanket. Paying attention to the strangest of things, Rick turned back and looked at the clothing properly, taking note that it wasn't his bathing suit but rather his jeans and a tee-shirt. He had departed the celebrations in his bathing suit, and some time had changed into another set of cleaning clothing? When had he done that?

Focusing his attention where it was needed, he slowly approached Carl's side and then took his hand into his own, its warmth a reassurance in the midst of his torment. Despite this comfort Rick looked at Carl in silence, unable to speak. As if he were merely sleeping he lay on his head turned, the overhead light shining directly onto the surgical towel that Denise still pressed against his face. Rick looked at it long and hard, knowing in his head what was left beneath it, but still struggling to comprehend the enormity of the consequences. Surely this couldn't be happened to him, not to Carl…it was a mistake. He kept telling himself that it wasn't too late, trying to bargain with a God who hadn't listen to him in years. There must still be time to go back and fix this, there must be something he could do to set things right again. It was unfathomable that he couldn't do anything to help his child.

"He's stable," Denise said to him quietly. Perched on a low stool she still sat by Carl's head, her voice slightly muffled by the blue mask she wore over her mouth and nose. "Do you want to see?"

He nodded, still unable to speak. In truthfulness he never wanted to see Carl's injury, he wanted to pretend it didn't exist, that this was just an awful nightmare, but this was his duty as a father. He braced himself as Denise gently pulled back the surgical towels and began talking him through what had happened. The injury was worse than he had expected, and he struggled to make out exactly what it was he was seeing.

"He was shot point blank range," Denise began, indicating to his cheek. "See the muzzle burn and the cut on his nose? The trajectory is upward. The bullet hasn't penetrated the skull, it looks like it's just passed over the superior and inferior orbital bones. It probably grazed the eyeball enough to destroy it completely."

Rick nodded again, managing to keep up with what she was telling him.

"The sphenoid and ethmoid bones are still intact, so the internal orbital structure is intact. That means no apparent brain injury, but we won't know for sure until he wakes. The optic nerve and some ligaments have completely retracted back into the skull. I've closed the severed artery and I'm just keeping it clamped for a little longer."

He nodded a second time, peering a little closer when she prompted him to. He could hardly make out what she was referring to…Carl's eye and cheek were now a mutilated mess of blood and flesh, the intricacies of the injury indistinguishable to him. "Is he going to live?" he finally managed to ask, the words almost to difficult to ask.

"My tentative assessment? Yes, he's going to live," she stated. There was a short pause before she sighed heavily, readjusting a clamp before replacing the surgical towel she had pressed over the wound. "I've got to keep cleaning debris from the wound, and once I'm satisfied with the artery I'll pack the wound and put on a dressing. Antibiotics, morphine when his blood pressure is a little higher…that's all I can do."

All the breath seemed to leave his body, Rick slowly coming around to the realisation that Carl was going to survive, that he was going to live. "Thank you," he said heavily, unable to convey the depth of his gratitude. It was impossible to put into words the gravity of what Denise had done, that she had saved his child's life, that he'd never be able to repay her.

With that, it seemed to be over. Sooner than Rick expected Carl was moved into the front bedroom, Abraham and Denise moving him into the bed and getting him warm and comfortable. A bandage had been wound around his head, hiding the extent of the injury that had nearly taken his life. Still struggling to comprehend it all Rick had taken his place at Carl's side and not moved, sitting by his bed with his hand in his, waiting for his fingers to tighten and indicate that he was alright. But as the hours slipped by, Denise coming in and out every fifteen minutes to check on him, Carl showed no sign of waking.

With the understanding that it could take hours for him to rouse Rick sat and waited, the shadows of the room growing longer as the sun began to set. Night soon fell, the only light illuminating the small room coming from the bedside lamp. By now Rick should have been resting at ease by now, comforted and reassured that his son was going to be alright. He should be trying to get some sleep, preparing himself for the long night that would be ahead of them when Carl eventually awoke. The idea was simple in thought, but infinitely difficult in execution. How could Rick possibly sit back and close his eyes now? How could he possibly rest when he was the only one there by his son's side, listening to the sound of his heart beat on the monitor, holding his hand to keep it warm. While he knew that Denise would be alerted by the slightest change in Carl's condition, this didn't help him relax. Rick needed to be awake, ready for his son to rouse at any moment.

It was odd to see just how peaceful Carl looked as he lay there in the bed, his chest slowly rising and falling. His head was slightly turned to the left, and all Rick could see was the bandage covering his right eye. With a jolt of heartache he corrected himself…the bandage was covering his right eye socket. Carl's eye was gone, and all that was left was a gaping wound of tissue, ligaments and tattered skin. Rick had to constantly reassure himself that although the injury was horrific, although Carl would never quite be the same, he had survived with his other eye in tact. He would still be able to see the world, he would still be independent and able to look after himself. If he'd lost both his eyes…if he'd gone blind and become completely helpless, Rick didn't know how either of them would cope.

Taking a deep breath he sat up a little straighter in his chair, clearing his throat and letting go of Carl's hand long enough to wipe his cheeks. He allowed himself a few moments of anguish before forcing himself to hold it together, needing to stay in control. He wiped his cheeks again then settled back into the chair and resumed his grasp on his son's hand. It's warmth was comforting, the steady pulse a reassurance with every beat. That was what he tried to focus on, the steady thud that promised his son was still there, not the spiralling anguish he felt.

It felt like hope had been ripped away from him again, his very heart torn from his own chest as soon as that gun had been fired. Until the moment his vigilance lapsed and Pete had slipped from their collective supervision, everything had been perfect. He and Carrie had talked about the future, Carl had accepted their relationship and begun working on developing his own with her. They were happy, all four of them starting out on something together, on being a family. In minutes it had changed, Carl getting shot and clinging to life…hours later Rick still didn't know what had happened to Carrie. He'd heard her name mentioned, he knew from the way people were talking that she must be alive, but that was all he knew. He hadn't asked what had happened, he hadn't asked what Pete had done to her…he wasn't sure he was ready yet to hear.

How had it come to this? How had he let this happen to his child?

He wanted Carl to wake up, to ascertain for sure that he hadn't sustained brain damage from the gunshot, that he would still be himself. But at the same time Rick dreaded his son's return to consciousness. As soon as he came around the horrific events would truly become reality…they'd both have to face what had happened. Rick didn't want to tell him, he didn't want to tell his son that although he was alive he was permanently disfigured. He would never feel the same way about himself again, his confidence and self-esteem would never be what it used to. Carl's life was irrevocably changed, and there was nothing at all Rick could do to make things alright again. He couldn't go back in time, he couldn't take his place even though he would have in heart beat.

There was a soft knock at the door, and he roused from his thoughts to see Michonne standing in the doorway. Denise had restricted the visitors to an absolute minimum, and so far it had been just Rick and Michonne there by Carl's side. She'd been in and out in the hours that had passed, sitting by Carl's side and stroking his hair, bringing what comfort she could for Rick. Seeing her now he cleared his throat and sat up a little, knowing where she had been. "How's Judith?"

"Still awake," she said softly. Coming in she looked at Carl sadly, taking a seat on the end of the bed by his feet. "She's resisting bed time with everything she has. She's got her head on Maggie's stomach, feeling the baby move. They're going to let her fall asleep there on the couch. The travel crib is in Maggie and Glenn's room."

"They'll take care of her," he stated, having always known that his daughter would be cared for when he couldn't.

With a long sigh Michonne kicked off her boots, not needing an invitation for what she did next. In a gesture that was completely natural she stretched out alongside Carl, propping her head up on her hand as she looked at him sadly. She straightened the blankets a little, pulling them further up under his arms, but then she settled her fussing and put her hand on top of his.

"You should get some fresh air," she murmured quietly. With her free hand she absentmindedly stroked his hair, the familial affection her own source of comfort.

He shook his head automatically, not even considering the suggestion.

"Rick," she repeated, her tone making him look at her. "Get some fresh air."

"I want to be here," he stated simply. "I **_need_** to be here."

Surely she understood, right? He absolutely had to be here, he had to be by Carl's side for every moment, he couldn't leave him. It felt like if he stepped out he'd be inviting something terrible to happen, as if his mere presence was what kept his son alive. The idea of setting foot outside this room was incomprehensible. If Carl woke up and he wasn't there with him, Rick would never forgive himself.

"Rick… ** _I'm_** here."

He knew what she meant…after all this time how could he not know. Michonne was there too, she was by Carl's side right now, and she would be over the coming months. Carl's friendship with her was just as important as his relationship with Rick, perhaps even more important given that it was one entered into voluntarily. Friends were chosen for a reason, and despite the differences in age and maturity Carl and Michonne had chosen one another. She was right…she was there by Carl's side, she could take Rick's place for a short while.

Slowly he stood to his feet, taking a moment to steady himself. He hadn't stood up in the hours that had passed since Carl had been laid into this bed, and the blood he had donated left him feeling a little light headed. He set Carl's hand onto the bed and then slowly made his way out of the room, stopping in the threshold and looking back. It went against his instincts to leave his son's bedside, but Michonne was right. She was there with him, he wouldn't be alone for even a moment…and Rick needed to take care of himself too.

The main area of the Infirmary was darkened, lit only by a lamp at the desk where Denise sat writing some notes. She looked up when he emerged, apparently pleased to see him, and she gave him a short nod of reassurance. Wanting to get back quickly Rick didn't waste any time as he made his way down the hallway to the bathroom to freshen up. The solitude was surprisingly nice, the ability to be alone for a few minutes helping him regain a semblance of control. Michonne was right…she was always right. He washed his face in the bathroom sink, splashing some water over the back of his neck to wake himself up a little. It was refreshing, exactly what he needed right now.

His hands braced against the counter Rick stood with his face over the basin, letting the remaining water drip down his nose and chin. It was with apprehension that he stood straight and looked at himself in the mirror. Unsurprised to see that he looked just as good as he felt, he pushed some wet tendrils of hair off his face and observed his features, his eyes bloodshot and defeated, his lips pressed into a thin line. He could see the regret in his own eyes, the cruel blame he was laying upon himself…it didn't matter what other factors had been in play, this was his fault. His instincts told him weeks ago to deal with Pete the way he wanted to, to make sure he wouldn't be a problem anymore. But he had tried to barter for peace, for the sake of Maggie and the baby. But Pete didn't want that, he wanted only vengeance, and before Rick knew it the situation had spiralled out of his control. It was cruel, it was unkind, but he should have put his own children ahead of Maggie's health, ahead of her baby. They were family, yes…but his own children should have come first. He was their father, he was tasked with protecting them above anyone else, and he had failed Carl. He had failed Carl every time he tried to compromise with Pete.

Needing to resume his place by Carl's side, he washed his face once more and then left his solitude. Though he had forgone the fresh air he was instructed to get he felt sufficiently refreshed, feeling ready to get through the rest of the night and whatever else was to come. His intention was to resume his former place at Carl's side, but when he came into the living area again there was something else that got his attention. He could hear soft voices now, a hushed conversation taking place in the light of a second lamp that had been lit. Denise and Carol stood in the far corner, talking softly between themselves, and though he could hear a small alarm coming from a monitor there was no sense of panic.

Although his obligation and duty was to return to Carl, Rick allowed his feet to guide him in the opposite direction. Carol looked just as tired and haggard as he did, and she stood protectively by the back of a large armchair, the one Pete most often occupied while he was drinking and watching television of an afternoon. Not wanting to intrude Rick stayed back and waited for the right time, letting Denise fuss over the patient before pressing a button on the monitor. The low alarm stopped sounding, silence taking it's place. Unconcerned by whatever it meant, Denise scribbled something down on a clipboard and then set it aside. She glanced up at Rick as she stood, but then turned back to Carol.

"Just press the reset button on the side if it starts again. It doesn't mean anything, it's just annoying."

Without further fuss Denise returned to her desk while Carol resumed her own seat in front of the arm chair, and it was now that she noticed Rick's presence. She seemed glad to see him, and gestured to one of the other chairs nearby, telling him to take it. Though he nodded he hesitated before actually doing it. He didn't need to ask who the patient was, and it was this knowledge that made him hesitate. The moment he came around the chair and looked he would know what had happened to Carrie, Pete's attack on her would become as real as his attack on Carl. He didn't know what to say to her…he didn't even know what had happened to them, not really anyway. What was he supposed to say? Was he even capable of offering the comfort she would surely need? Finding his courage he took the chair and sat down next to Carol, bracing himself before he raised his head and looked at Carrie.

At first glance she seemed perfectly fine. She was curled up in the armchair, her knees pulled to her chest and warmed by the blanket over her lap. There was a blood pressure cuff around her upper arm and a pulse oximeter on her finger, supplementary oxygen provided by nasal prongs, yet despite all this she looked somewhat comfortable. Her eyes were half open, but he sensed that she wasn't awake, not really anyway. They were glassy, her eye lids slowly closing and then opening again as she looked at Carol, a soft sigh passing her lips. A moment later she looked up at Rick, but he didn't allow himself to feel comforted. She was looking at him, but it was clear she wasn't seeing him. Her affect was low, her body almost completely still until she winced painfully when she tried to swallow. A more difficult sigh passed her lips now, compelling Carol to gently place her hand on her knee.

"Go back to sleep," she encouraged softly.

Carol repeated her instructions until Carrie complied. She looked at Rick a moment longer before giving in, her eye lids closing as she turned her head back into the arm chair. Silence resumed, and when she was certain she was comfortable Carol sat back in her own chair with a weary sigh.

"She's going to be fine," she began, answering the question Rick didn't know how to ask. "She's sedated right now, and Denise wants her to stay the night. I'll take her home in the morning."

He nodded, but didn't say anything. His heart was aching, the pain in his chest growing the longer he looked at Carrie. There were red blotches on her cheeks and bags under her eyes, her lips were swollen…coming closer he looked at her right arm. The plaster cast had been removed in exchange for a temporary split, her wrist and hand swollen, but it wasn't that was most concerning. Two of her fingers were bandaged, her hands and knuckles covered in scratches, dried blood under her broken fingernails. Before he pulled back the collar of the loose shirt she was wearing he knew what he would find, he knew what Pete had done to her. Her neck bore an array of scratches and bruises, ones that would develop over the next few days and possibly take the shape of two hands. As Rick sat back down Carol lifted the blanket and revealed to him Carrie's bare legs, showing him the dark shadows on her inner thighs, one bearing a long, inflamed scratch. Rick's heart sank even further as he observed these injuries in conjunction with the rest, clearly able to picture Pete pinning her down, imagining the sheer terror she must have felt.

"Did she say what happened?" As he made this enquiry he gently brushed her hair behind her ear, wincing when he saw the dressing on her right ear lobe. She'd been wearing hoop earrings that day, an unusual indulgence given the state of the world.

"Bits and pieces," Carol replied, replacing the blankets and making sure she was warm enough. "Her throat's very sore, we didn't want her to talk too much. Pete cornered her. She tried to make Carl leave, to make him go and get you, but he refused."

"She wanted him to leave?"

Carol nodded. "She was trying to protect him, but he wouldn't go. He got his gun from the safe…somehow he got shot. That's about all I know."

He looked at Carrie sadly, having always trusted that she would try to protect his children. "And Pete?"

"I didn't see what happened…by the time Daryl got there he was on top of her. He shot him with a bolt and went straight to help Carl."

"Good," he said softly, reminding himself to thank Daryl later. From the north post three houses away he would have been the first on the scene, followed by Abraham who had been the one to bring Carl to the Infirmary. Hearing Carol clearing her throat he turned to her.

"Daryl isn't the one who killed him."

Rick frowned. Daryl didn't kill Pete? "Who?"

Without saying a word she gestured to Carrie, her answer making Rick laugh incredulously.

"You're telling me that after Pete nearly strangled her to death, she killed him?"

"Yes. Daryl's the one who shot him, but she killed him with the crossbow."

He looked at Carrie and tried to understand, taking in her injuries. "How did she load a crossbow with her arm like that?" he questioned skeptically.

Carol smiled. "I never said she loaded it."

Rick frowned at Carrie, putting the pieces together in his head. "She - she beat him to death?"

"According to Daryl, yes. We were starting to think Pete wouldn't even turn given his state," she said, smiling at Carrie proudly. "She didn't hold back."

"No, she didn't."

He continued looking at Carrie in disbelief, pride for her swelling in his chest and temporarily taking place of the sadness and anguish he felt. He pictured her picking up Daryl's crossbow and turning towards Pete with it, he pictured her hitting him again and again, his imagination making him wish he had been able to see it himself. But by now the evidence would have been cleaned up, Pete's body removed and being prepared for burial. But as he knew it would his pride and sense of satisfaction began to fade, his anguish inevitably returning. Now he pictured Carrie on the ground beneath him, terrified and fighting for her life, unable to help Carl who had been shot. Rick knew first hand how quickly someone could die from strangulation. He had strangled that Claimer, he had almost strangled Carrie's rapist Granger on the supply run before she stepped in and shot him. A man of Pete's size and strength against her? She stood no chance of saving herself from him…Daryl had saved her life.

"Where is Daryl?" He had expected to find him here, waiting for the opportunity to see Carl.

"Drunk."

"Oh," he said in disappointment, though he ought to have known how Daryl would have coped with what had happened that afternoon.

"Last I heard he passed out in Rosemary's strawberry patch…we've left him there for the night."

Rick didn't say anything, and as silence resumed he started thinking about Carrie. He dwelled on what Carol had told him, that Carrie tried to make Carl leave, to get him to safety. All of this had happened while he was completely unaware. While they were scared and fighting for their lives, he was on the other side of Alexandria enjoying the celebrations. He felt negligent, that he had failed them. No amount of reasoning or logic was likely to convince him otherwise.

"Let's step outside for a few minutes," Carol suggested, already standing up.

Rick immediately went to shake his head, not interested in her suggestion. He wanted to stay right here, to be with Carrie or Carl, he didn't want either of them to be alone. But when he looked up and saw the small box of cigarettes Carol held he was tempted.

"This is a hell of a time to quit smoking," Carol said kindly, then gesturing to Carrie. "She won't even notice we're gone."

He hesitated a moment longer, and then nodded his head in agreement. "I'll be out in a moment."

Letting her go on ahead of him he stayed a few moments longer, watching Carrie as she slept fitfully. When he felt ready to leave her he wearily got to his feet, entering the kitchen as he rolled up his sleeve and removed the nicotine patch he had applied earlier that day. Carol was right, this was one hell of a time to give up smoking. Finding the trash he dropped the patch in with the intention of quickly checking on Carl, but something else inside there caught his attention, a pattern of colours he was quite familiar with. It was difficult to be sure until he picked it up and held it in the light, but when he looked at it properly his heart sank. It was the dress Carrie had been wearing that day, whose mid thigh hemline she had chosen with him in mind. It was spattered in blood, small droplets and misting covering what few parts of the fabric hadn't been soiled by heavier drips and smears. Was this Pete's blood? Carl's? Carrie's?

Both physically and emotionally exhausted, he didn't even have the mental energy to throw it back into the trash in a fit of anger. He felt drained, completely empty after everything that had happened, and so he simply let go of the dress and allowed it to fall back into the trash. Now genuinely needing that cigarette Carol had suggested he ducked into Carl's room and checked on him, glad to find that he and Michonne were both fast asleep. Confident that his presence was not being missed Rick departed again, passing by Carrie before joining Carol on the deck outside. He was gentle, cautious of rousing her even though she was sedated, but he leant down and kissed her forehead. He let his lips linger there for a few moments, enjoying the opportunity to touch her, to remind himself that she was still real, that she was still there with him. Tomorrow would be a new day for her…for both of them.

When he stepped outside it was with a deep breath in, the fresh summer air filling his lungs and clearing his head. Despite everything a slight weight lifted off his shoulders with the breath of fresh air, the space out on the Infirmary's desk reminding him how stuffy and claustrophobic one could feel when they sat by another's bedside. As he closed the door behind himself he took a moment to look around at the night sky, observing the stars and the glow of the waning moon. The lake outside was perfectly still, it's glassy surface reflecting the moonlight and shadows of the trees. Like it always did, the world outside continued even though Rick's had ground to a halt.

Needing it, he gratefully took a cigarette from the packet Carol offered to him. "I didn't know you smoked," he commented as she lit one of her own and passed him the lighter.

"I'm much better at hiding it that you."

The familiar click of the lighter was just as comforting as the first draw he took, the taste of the tobacco and ritual of drawing it into his mouth bringing the relief he sought. Returning the lighter he slowly exhaled, wearily rubbing his face as he sank down onto the end of the wooden deck chair. Carol on the other hand remained standing, one elbow resting on the deck railing.

"When things were good, Ed used to light two cigarettes at once and then give me one. I could always tell how things were going to be based on whether or not I had to light my own."

"How kind of him," he muttered sarcastically, taking a long draw on his cigarette.

"I think he thought it was romantic," she continued, sounding wistful. "I used to hope he'd get lung cancer."

A laugh erupted from his chest, Rick smiling in amusement at her blunt remark. The motion felt unnatural, despite how recently he had spent the afternoon laughing joyously with his friends and family. He looked up at Carol now, the two of them sharing a brief smile before their amusement faded and was replaced once again by reality. Focusing on watching the end of his cigarette burning red Rick waited for her to speak. He sensed that she didn't bring him out here just for the fresh air, that she really want to talk. She had something to say, she was just mulling it over first. He waited patiently, and was halfway through his cigarette when she started.

"There's change coming," she commented softly, looking out across Alexandria.

Rick nodded in agreement, casting his eyes towards Jessie's house. Having barely spared even Carrie a thought in the last few hours, Jessie had been the last person on his mind until now. He could see the soft glow of light from behind her drapes, a sense of activity indicating that there must be people over there with her, bringing her comfort despite what Pete had done. She was grieving for her husband, for her children's father…she hadn't asked for any of this.

"What change?" he enquired when Carol didn't continue.

"Roles," she said shortly, giving a great sigh. "You'll always be our leader, that's never going to change…but you need to be with Carl. He's going to need his dad, and you can't fuck this up," she said bluntly.

"No, I can't."

"You and Michonne have to focus on Carl, get him through this. Carrie, she…she'll be okay. I can get he-"

Rick cut her off before she could continue much farther. "I'll get her through this," he stated. "I will."

There was a long pause before Carol spoke. "What about Carl?"

"I'll make it work," he insisted in determination. "I have to get them both through this, no matter what it takes. But you're right. I need to be with them. Things have to change for a while."

"We should let Maggie step up a little, take your place with Deanna."

This suggestion took him by surprise. "Maggie?"

"She'll manage."

"Her doctor was just beaten to death, and she's got pre-eclampsia."

"She'll manage," Carol insisted. "I'll make sure she does. Carrie's not going to feel up to taking on such an important role, and we can't entrust that fragile relationship to Abraham or Rosita. They're smart, but they're like a bull in a China shop, not at all political or tactful."

"They aren't exactly my greatest qualities."

Despite his arguments Carol stood firm in her plan. "You manage Deanna well, while still telling it like it is. Maggie can emulate that. She already does."

"What about you? Glenn?"

"I need to continue being the person I am. You know what I'm like, I see and hear everything…changing my status quo could change that too. We need Glenn to stay with the supply runs if he's willing, we're going to need them. Abraham and Daryl can handle security with their eyes closed…Sasha can help Maggie with Deanna."

Too drained to do anything else, Rick simply nodded in agreement, trusting her judgement that Maggie would be able to handle the fragile relationship with Deanna. Carol was right…he couldn't fuck this up. Both his son and Carrie were depending on him to be there for them, he needed to focus on them.

"It won't have to be for long," he muttered, stubbing the cigarette butt out on the deck floor and putting it back into the box. "It will be hard, but once things settle down…once I get Carl home and back on track, I can make time for other things."

"No, Rick-"

"I can make time," he insisted. "Deanna, the Wolves, the safe houses…I can-"

"Pete told him about Lori."

Rick's plans fell silent on his lips, his heart giving a painful clench as he absorbed what Carol had said. His eyes were trained on the wooden deck beneath his feet, but as the still lingering pressure in his head began to grow again he raised his eyes and looked out across the lake. This was partly what he had been trying to prevent, what his threats were meant to stall…it had all been for nothing.

"What exactly did he tell him?"

"I don't know. Carrie just kept saying that **_he told him_**."

"That's all she said?" Rick clarified, clinging to hope. Perhaps Pete had said something else, something that had nothing to do with Lori. "Maybe she meant something else."

Carol shook her head, confident of the conclusions she had drawn. "She hasn't been in a state to explain properly, but I don't see what else she could have meant."

Though he was reluctant to do so, Rick had to agree. What else could Carrie possibly mean other than Pete had finally followed through on his leverage? This was what Rick had been trying to protect Carl from, the emotional torment of learning that his mother was a human being, that she was capable of making mistakes. He had been determined to protect Carl from that, while also ensuring that Maggie and her baby still had access to the best medical care they had, but he had screwed everything up. He'd nearly driven he and Carrie apart with the way he handled the news of their relationship, he'd betrayed Carl by lying to him, and now keeping Lori's secret had nearly gotten their son killed. Did it get any worse than this? What was he going to screw up next? What other suffering would Carl and Carrie have to endure thanks to him?

Without warning it suddenly hit him, his chest beginning to feel tight as he tried to keep his thoughts in order. Carl could wake up and at moment, and he was going to have to tell him what had happened. With a heavy sigh he put his hand into his hands, despairing at the thought of what he had to do. He felt completely ill prepared, unable to face what had to be done. He'd rather be a coward, he'd rather lie to protect his child from the awful truth for as long as possible. His heart was pounding inside his chest, and tears welled up in his eyes as he raised his head with a shuddering breath.

"What do I do?" he asked weakly, admitting that he didn't know. "How am I supposed to tell him what happened? That he…"

He trailed off, unable to verbalise it even to Carol. Carl had been shot in the face, his right eye was forever gone, he'd never look he same again, his self-esteem would be crushed. The facts were easy to acknowledge inside his head, but impossible to say out loud. Once he said the words, they would be the truth, it would be real.

"You just tell him," she stated, her voice heavier than before as she held out the pack of cigarettes again, offering him a second. "Tell him the truth, all of it. Then tell him that it's going to be okay."

"Is it?" he questioned, taking a cigarette and gratefully lighting it. "Is it going to be okay?"

There was a brief pause, Carol considering his question as she lit her own cigarette. "That's up to you…that's up to him. All three of you," she stated confidently. "You, Carrie and Carl. You're the ones who decide whether or not you survive this. That's what you tell him."

As tears rolled down his cheeks he brought the cigarette to his lips and took a heavy drag, using the crux to help him think. He wanted only to be a coward, to take the easy way out by lying to his son, by delaying the agony he was going to feel. But Carol was right, he had to tell him the truth, even if he didn't know for sure that it was going to be alright. Finally he nodded his head, understanding what he had to do. "Thank you," he said sincerely.

"You three are going to be fine. In a couple of months, this will all just be a bad memory."

Restless now, Rick stood up and resting his elbow against the porch railing, looking out across the glassy surface of the lake. The moonlight was reflected there, casting an etherial glow around the vicinity. Was it really that simple? In a few months this would be just a bad memory? It wouldn't be that easy, not for Carl…this injury was permanent, it would haunt him for the rest of his life. Despite Carol's encouragement and reassuring words, Rick wasn't sure he was yet ready to feel so hopeful. This wasn't like the other times when Cael had faced adversity and come out the other side…this was permanent…forever.

Though he had been grateful for it, Rick was glad when his second cigarette was burnt down to the filter. He stubbed it out and then put the end back into the pack, resisting the frustrated urge to simply toss it into the lake where the children often swam. Neither he nor Carol spoke as they lingered out there a little longer, and no words were necessary when he turned and went back inside alone. The arrival of Rosita and Francine had prompted Denise to retire upstairs, and despite all they had done for Carl he couldn't find it in himself to thank them yet. Instead he went back into the bathroom and washed his face again, pulling at his shirt and trying to air it out as he hoped he didn't smell of tobacco.

When he checked on Carrie he found her still sleeping, having not moved and inch from the position in which he had last seen her. Had it not been for the sight of her pulse on the monitor he wouldn't have been sure that she was still alive, her chest barely moving as she breathed slowly. Confident that Carol would be back soon and that she was kept company by the others, Rick leant down and pressed his lips to her forehead once more. The gesture of affection was not for her benefit, but for his own. He had to leave her for now, knowing that his duty was to be by Carl's side, to prioritise his children above her. Confident she would support this he left her side and returned to Carl's, knowing that in the morning she probably wouldn't remember him being there at all.

* * *

A/N Thanks for the fantastic reviews everyone, they're so encouraging to read and I absolutely love the feedback about your enjoyment. Thanks to all!

A guest reviewer asked if I am introducing Negan to the third story? The answer is tentatively yes. I'm still working through the overarching plot, and I'm 11 chapters in and have done some set up for a Negan storyline. That said, I'm not entirely sure where AMC are going to go with it, so the depth of my Negan arc will depend on what episode Season 7/8 reaches at the time of writing. In general I like to follow the tv series and add my own twists to the existing material.

Sorry for a slightly shorter chapter - there was a Part 2 of this chapter but it's currently unfinished (I've been moving house again). I figured I'd prefer to post the finished first half rather than make you keep waiting. Next chapter posted in 4-5 days, most likely Thursday.


	55. Chapter 55

The hours that followed Pete's attack were torturously slow, time passing at a rate that cruelly did not allow her mind to rest. Though the attack itself had quickly become a blur of terror, everything that came after she recalled with great clarity, though she would have preferred not to. She remembered being kept seated on the staircase for almost an hour, wrapped in a blanket yet shivering in shock, her gaze looking through the open front door at the onlookers outside. In the back of her mind she knew that people were staring, that her position on the stairs gave those outside a direct view, but she couldn't find the strength inside herself to get up and move.

She had stopped crying almost immediately after telling Carol that she had killed Pete, the affirmation that she had done the right thing bringing a small amount of comfort. Looking back now she wondered if she had gone into shock, if the strange sense of calm and indifference was not self-control as she had first thought. Certainly she didn't recall saying much, though perhaps she had spoken a little more to Carol who had not left her side. At some stage Sasha had arrived on the scene, and it was only at her and Carol's encouragement that she got to her feet. She was surprised to find herself steadier than she expected, surprised by how easy it was to put one foot in front of the other, though it was another hour before she agreed to make the short walk to the Infirmary.

Upon her eventual arrival there Carol had helped her get undressed, her ruined dress being exchanged for a loose fitting hospital gown that she herself had helped scavenge on a supply run. After that she had sunk down into the comfortable arm chair and curled up with her legs beneath herself, barely paying attention as Denise looked her over. When Alexandria's newly lone doctor inserted a cannula into her hand and asked her some questions, Carrie had to ask her what had happened to Carl. She had already learned that by some miracle he was still alive and that he had lost his eye, but maybe if she asked Denise herself she would get better news. Maybe it wasn't so bad…maybe Carol was mistaken and Carl's eye really wasn't gone.

But when she got the news she didn't want to hear, something inside of her switched. She looked at Denise in disdain, furious with the doctor for lying to her, for how could Carl have possibly lost his eye? It was incomprehensible to her, the very notion of it ridiculous. Without warning she stood to her feet, the sudden motion knocking over a trolly of supplies that had been brought to her side. In an instant everything started to unravel, and she felt her world starting to spiral out of control, the ground beneath her feet no longer as solid and steady as it used to be. Carl was fine and Denise was lying to her - why would Denise lie? She tried to shout this at her, to demand an explanation as to what had really happened to Carl, but instead all that came out was a hoarse plea that it not be true.

She didn't recall much after that, remembering only that she sank back down into the armchair and stayed as a welcome sense of relaxation came over her. Across from her the entire time was Carol, the woman who had once mistrusted her now spending the night by her side. When she awoke before sunrise the next morning it was with a pounding headache and a dry throat, her roused state drawing a sleepy Denise to her side at once. Though she was groggy and lethargic, Carrie knew immediately that she wanted to go, that she needed to be anywhere but the armchair that Pete used to watch television in. It had taken a great deal of fussing from Denise for Carrie to get her blessing to depart, and it was only with terms and conditions that she was discharged from the Infirmary. It was at the break of dawn that Carol helped her slip into a loose dress and flip flops, and to Carrie's great relief she was allowed to leave the Infirmary, very much looking forward to going home.

At first.

Not until she was halfway down the road did it occur to her that she couldn't go back to Jessie's place, that she had to go to her home instead…the very home in which Pete had attacked her less than twenty four hours ago. As this prospect came crashing down on her so too did the magnitude of what had happened. She knew that she had survived, that although he was forever maimed Carl too had survived, but what had happened was not over. Pete had attacked them, and she had killed him. She couldn't go back to staying at Jessie's house, not after killing her husband.

It took everything she had to keep going, to keep putting one foot in front of the other, and perhaps if she didn't have Carol escorting her she might not have. But somehow she managed to find the strength to make it past Jessie's house without looking at it, to cross the threshold of her own and go upstairs without so much as a glance towards the garage. She had spent the rest of the morning self-confined within her bedroom, unsure of what to do with herself, of what was going to happen next. Though trying to give her space Carol had hovered in concern, Carrie suspecting she spent most of the morning in her own bedroom awaiting the opportunity to tend to her needs. Meanwhile others came and went, many visitors knocking on the front door but very few permitted to enter. Tara had come up to see Carrie in her room, Sasha too a little later, but Carrie didn't know what to say to any of them. The worst was when Maggie and Glenn came by, for the impact of the attack would also be felt by them. By killing Pete Carrie had potentially endangered Maggie's life, and the life of her baby too. Despite this it hadn't been mentioned…perhaps it hadn't even crossed Maggie's mind to feel resentful of the danger Carrie had put her in.

She was glad when her few visitors left, and despite being grateful to Carol she had made a point of closing her bedroom door. The idea of facing anyone else was too difficult to comprehend, and not knowing what else to do Carrie simply laid down and tried to sleep. She needed to pass the time without engaging with what had happened, to acknowledge the impact of it…but it was useless. She couldn't switch her mind off, she was constantly thinking about it, wondering what Carl was doing, if he was awake, if he knew.

She'd heard from the others that he'd roused during the night, but that he hadn't been in much condition for talking, that like she he was groggy and confused. Every time she tried to close her eyes she could see his injury, and every time it got worse, it became more gruesome. Finally she gave in, unable to take seeing Carl's face, unable to stomach the sensation of Pete's hands on her body, and she took the sedative Denise gave her to take home. She felt the anxiety fading, her heart rate slowing even though her mind was still full, but she must have fallen asleep. It was late afternoon before she woke up, still enjoying the groggy haze that allowed her to continue feeling numb.

Finally she had forced herself to get up, fearing that if she didn't do it right then she'd stay in bed all evening and through the night. As she had expected Carol was there to check on her the moment she heard her rousing, and when she asked if there was anything Carrie needed for once she knew how to answer. She needed to take a shower, to wash away the sensation of Pete's hands all over her body, but for that she would need a plastic bag and tape. Though the cast on her arm had been hastily removed in the aftermath of the attack, it's place had been taken by a removable splint, one that matched the colour of the tape around the middle and fourth finger on her right hand. When she'd tried to make a run for it through the side door Pete had cruelly slammed it on her fingers, quite possibly breaking them.

Thanking Carol when she fixed a bag around her split and taped it down to make it water tight, Carrie locked her bathroom door and slowly removed her clothing, making a point of not looking at her body. She was battered and bruised, the ache in her upper legs reminding her of that any time she took a heavy step, but she wasn't yet ready to see what damage Pete had inflicted on her…she hadn't even looked in a mirror yet, not ready to see her face either. Breathing a sigh of relief she stepped under the warm water of the shower, grateful for the way it pounded down against her aching body. Though she knew it was only a temporary high, she allowed herself to feel the cathartic transformation as she clumsily lathered her hair with shampoo using only one hand. Dragging her fingers through it as she rinsed away the suds she revelled in how clean and silky it was, but as she expected her temporary high was over quickly. When she smoothed conditioner through her hair her heart fell when she felt a small patch of clear scalp. Though they were barely half the side of her smallest fingernail, she found three places in which Pete had literally torn hair from her scalp in his attack.

Her mood falling significantly, she rinsed the conditioner from her hair and then stood idle beneath the hot water, studying the scratches and broken fingernails of her left hand. Last night Carol had cleaned the dried blood from under her nails last, removing the nail polish and daisies that Jessie had painted for her, not that Carrie was upset about the latter. She had initially liked the artwork Jessie had painted for her, but after the attack her nails were broken and torn, and like the owls on her cast the daisies were ruined. She was glad to see them gone, glad to see her blank fingernails. They would draw less attention now, making it easier to avoid looking at the small scratches on her hands.

Everything felt insurmountable at the moment, even the task of turning off the shower and retrieving her towel, which was likely why she stood under the running water for at least half an hour. It was only the possibility of Carol coming to check on her that gave Carrie the strength to act, to reach out and turn off the tap. Just like in the aftermath after Aidan and Noah's death when she was recovering from the explosion, simple tasks such as towel drying her hair suddenly became difficult. She knew that she could ask Carol for help, that she was probably hovering outside her bedroom just waiting for her call, but she wanted to be alone right now.

Simply doing her best, she slowly dried off and then brushed her damp hair, wincing as she removed the tape that secured the plastic bag around her splint. She wished that she felt refreshed, that sleeping for most of the last twenty four hours and being freshly showered would revitalise her, but she felt just as empty and numb as she had an hour ago. Drying her body had forced her to look at it, to acknowledge the bruises on her thighs from where Pete had knelt on her, the painful scratch near her groin from when she'd fought back against his touch.

The more she looked at the state of her body the more detached from it she felt. It felt distant, like it no longer belonged to her, though she knew this feeling would eventually pass. She'd been through this before, in the weeks and months that followed the ordeal with Granger and his group. It had felt the same then, like her body wasn't hers anymore, that she merely occupied it while others used it for themselves. Now Pete had attacked her, and the body that had so often protected and kept her alive had failed her. She had been overpowered, she'd been vulnerable and unable to help herself…Pete could have done so much worse to her than he did, and she wouldn't have been able to stop him. Nevertheless she knew the detachment she felt was only temporary, that as the problems she faced now began to resolve, things would change. For her, it was just going to be a matter of time.

The only relief she felt was when she finally looked into the mirror, albeit reluctantly. For once her face had not borne the brunt of injuries, her appearance not as bad as she had prepared herself for. Her normally clear skin was marred by small pink blotches, her eyes bloodshot and puffy, but otherwise she was fine. It was the sight of her neck that made her shudder, her discoloured skin bearing scratches and marks came from her struggle to get Pete off of her. At first it looked like smudges of dirt, as if she just needed a good shower after clearing Walkers from the spikes. But closer inspection showed the two oval shaped bruises from Pete's thumbs, the two marks standing out ever so slightly.

She opened her bathroom cabinet and took out a glass jar of moisturiser, the outrageously expensive type she used to use before the outbreak. Before everything started going to hell she'd found this on a supply run when they were scavenging in cars, and to her it was a greater find than the antibiotics Aidan found. Dipping her finger in she spread a conservative amount over her face and gently rubbed it in, rubbing away the dry skin and bags under her eyes. Being gentle with her neck she did the same there, wishing that the cream would rub away the bruises too. Still she did not feel refreshed, nor ready to face the world that carried on outside her bedroom, but she forced herself to at least get dressed. Taking one last look at herself in the mirror she squeezed a little more water from her hair and then departed.

Yesterday someone had retrieved her belongings from Jessie's guest bedroom, perhaps erasing all evidence that the woman who killed her husband had ever been there. They'd thoughtfully brought it back for her and put her belongings away, making sure she had everything she needed when she came home from the Infirmary, but nothing was exactly right. She knew she was being stupid, ungrateful even…but socks went in the second drawer, not the third, and their incorrect location bothered her more than it should. Clad only in a towel clumsily secured with one hand, Carrie sighed impatiently as she rearranged her belongings, putting her lip balm on the night stand where she liked it and straightening her shoes in the closet. She thought it would help, that getting everything back to the way it was meant to be might bring her the sense of equilibrium that she needed, but it didn't of course. Instead she found herself more frustrated than before, dissatisfied by the growing sense of displacement she felt.

Angrily slamming her nightstand drawers closed she started to dress, wrenching hangers of clothing aside in search of what she wanted, but it was no use. She wanted something long and warm, the type of clothing she could encase herself within while she wallowed in self pity, but she had nothing. A few weeks ago she'd taken most of her warmer clothing back to the Pantry, part of the seasonal routine where people exchanged their clothing for something more suitable for the coming weather. A month ago her closet had been filled with jeans, sweat pants and coats, but had now been replaced with summer dresses and shorts, hardly the clothing she was seeking today. The only thing longer than shorts were the jeans she wore outside the walls, the ones that would never quite be light grey again. Feeling her frustration beginning to peak she closed her eyes and took a deep breath, trying to steady herself. Her throat ached as she breathed out slowly, tears of frustration welling up in her eyes before she could stop them. She wished she had stayed in bed, preferring the groggy haze in which she had awoken over the frustration of reality.

Clearing her throat and then wincing in regret, she forced herself to keep it together, to just get on with things. As she wondered what had happened to the dress she wore yesterday, hopeful that Carol would be able to get the blood stains out, she pulled on an old tank top that brought a comforting sense of familiarity and then looked through her work out gear for what she wanted. Other than her jeans he had only one other item of clothing that would completely cover her legs, her long yoga pants with the hole behind the knee. Finding them in the wrong place too she began pulling them on, grateful for the sense of security that the long clothing brought her.

"Carrie?" Carol called out, politely knocking on the door.

"Come in," she replied, hastily wiping the wetness away from her eyes. She'd rather Carol not find her crying, unsure of whether she could stand the sympathy.

The door opened slowly, Carol entering upon her invitation, but Carrie took a moment before she looked up at her. She knew she didn't need to be strong in front of her, that she'd already seen her at her absolute lowest. Yet in her uniquely unobtrusive way Carol had offered support and comfort without patronising her, without making her feel small or weak. Over her shoulder she carried Judith's purple back pack, her nightlight and crib mobile in her hands.

"I'm going next door to take Judy some clean pyjamas," she explained. "Do you want to come with me?"

Carrie shook her head slowly, restraining her answer. "No thank you." The last thing she wanted right now was to be around other people, even her group.

Carol nodded, not pushing her. "Do you need help with anything before I go?"

 ** _Sure. Help me comfort Jessie, fix what happened to Carl…find the strength to leave my own bedroom._**

"No, I'm fine," she nodded. She tried to smile for good measure, but her facial muscles just wouldn't work. "Thanks."

Not lingering unnecessarily, Carol began to depart while closing the door as she went, but Carrie stopped her at the last minute. "Yes?"

She hesitated before voicing this question, unsure if she really wanted the answer. "Have you seen Carl?"

Carol shook her head. "Denise wants minimal visitors, but he's been awake," she told her. "Rick told him what happened. It hasn't really sunk in yet."

"Okay," she nodded, relieved to hear that he was awake. "Thanks."

"Michonne said he was asking about you, said he was upse-"

"Thanks," she said pointedly, cutting Carol off.

She swooped down and picked up her towel from the floor, shaking it out as she headed into her bathroom. She'd heard what she wanted to about Carl, she knew he was awake and that he knew what had happened…she wasn't ready to hear anymore, she wasn't ready to hear that he'd been asking about her. As she hung up her towel and heard the soft click as Carol closed her bedroom door, Carrie took a moment and breathed deeply, trying to stay in control of herself, to not dissolve into a wreck like she wanted to. Very quickly her sadness was replaced with anger and frustration, this time towards Carl. How many times had she told him to leave? She'd told him again and again to go and get Rick, to leave her…why couldn't he just listen? He wouldn't have gotten hurt if he'd just left.

It was unfair to blame Carl for what had happened to him, that was Pete's fault alone, but still her frustration with him remained. It didn't matter that Pete might have killed her in the short minute that it would have taken others to get there, it didn't matter that Pete could have done anything to hurt her, both physically and mentally. Carl was permanently maimed now. It wasn't an injury that would ever heal, it wouldn't be just an unsightly scar…he had lost half his vision. He would have months of work ahead of him to get back to his former capabilities…he wouldn't even be able to fire a gun right now. This injury left him completely vulnerable. He should have left her.

Tidying her bedroom and making a half hearted effort at making her bed, Carrie braced herself as she prepared to leave her sanctuary, knowing that she couldn't stay there all day. If she didn't emerge at some stage then Carol would start to worry, and the unnecessary fussing might begin. The house was quiet when she stepped out of her bedroom, the upstairs hallway empty and silent, no surprises waiting to greet her. Uncertain of exactly what she was going to do once she went downstairs, she started by handling a problem she was capable of, and so she headed for Michonne's bedroom first. Not paying attention to the fact that the door was closed she opened it and went inside, her heart leaping into her throat when she found the room dark. A quick glance at the lowered blinds and bed indicated that Michonne was sleeping, making her feel immensely stupid for this oversight. She should have realised, she should have paid attention to the bedroom door that was closed during the day. Just as she started creeping back out the mound of blankets on the bed moved, Michonne raising her head in curiosity.

"Everything okay?" she mumbled.

"Shit, I'm sorry," she muttered apologetically. "Just go bac-"

"What is it?" she insisted, pushing her loose dreadlocks off her face as she turned on her nightstand lamp. "You need something?"

Knowing that Michonne's concern would not be brushed aside, Carrie asked for what she needed. "I came to borrow your sweatshirt, the one with the hood. Is that okay?"

Michonne immediately leapt up from the bed, her haste to acquiesce only making Carrie feel even worse. "You need anything else?" she offered as she tossed the sweatshirt to her. "Anything."

Carrie forced a smile, actually managing it this time. "No. Thanks for this…sorry I woke you."

"I'm going back to the Infirmary tonight," Michonne said as Carrie was leaving. "I'll try to convince Rick to get some shut eye."

"Okay," she nodded, trying to close the door as she anticipated what Michonne would say next.

"Do you want to come with me?" she offered. "Denise won't mind, and Carl's been-"

"Asking about me. Yeah, I know," she replied, uncomfortable with the offer. She knew she was obligated to go and see Carl, that in her heart she genuinely wanted to, but she wasn't sure she was ready yet. "Maybe tomorrow."

Trying not to look like she was escaping, she successfully slipped out of Michonne's bedroom and closed the door behind herself, relieved to be back on the peaceful solitude of the hallway. She didn't feel ready to see Carl just yet, not even ready to see Rick. That was going to be difficult in itself, facing him after what had happened to his son while he was with her. She knew that he wouldn't blame her, that he'd likely thank her for trying to save his life…but she still wasn't ready to see either of them.

Grateful for it, she carefully slipped Michonne's sweatshirt on and sighed, enjoying the soft fabric against her bare arms. Though a hooded sweatshirt wasn't typically her style, today it was exactly what she needed, for the hood and heavy fabric helped conceal the discolouration on her neck, and the sleeves were long enough to hide her hands within. If memory served her correctly, the oversized sweatshirt was large enough for Michonne to completely encase her legs within, perfect for the cold nights on the Georgia supply run. Today it would serve that purpose for Carrie, acting as a barrier between herself and the world as she slowly adjusted to the idea that her body still belonged to her, despite what it felt like right now.

Just like upstairs, the living areas downstairs were empty and silent. She had half expected to find a baby sitter there to cover Carol's brief absence, someone from their group lingering awkwardly on the off chance that Carrie needed something. But Carol hadn't fussed, and she appreciated that. For a few minutes she stood in the centre of the living area, trying to work through the strange way she felt right now. Everything was perfectly normal, from the plastic blocks discarded by the toy box to the large pot simmering on the stove, yet it all felt strange. She felt like this house wasn't actually her home, that it never had been at all. Looking around she recognised everything, for nothing had changed in the week since she'd been staying with Jessie, but everything felt different now. This house had become her home, something she hadn't truly experienced for many years even before the outbreak…but now Pete had ruined that for her. He'd invaded this place, he'd attacked her here, he'd put his hands on her body as if he owned it. She felt disconnected and numb to everything from her body to her home, and it was because of him.

Glancing towards the house next door to ensure that Carol wasn't coming home yet, Carrie braced herself before turning around and leaving the living area. She was unsurprised to see that the side door was damaged, the wood surrounding the deadbolt slightly splintered and a piece of cardboard and duct tape replacing a large pane of glass. Studying the damage she noted what must have happened, that Daryl had smashed the glass to disengage the deadbolt in his haste to come to her and Carl's aid. Though it was a pointless act given the cardboard, she went over to the door and turned the deadbolt, taking comfort in the loud click the deadbolt made. She'd never felt unsafe in Alexandria before, but that had changed. The danger used to be outside the walls, something external that needed to be managed and prevented….never before this moment had she felt the need to lock doors or look over her shoulder.

Part of her expecting to find someone standing behind her, she spun around and looked back down the hallway, relieved when she found no one. She knew that had just been a moment of paranoia, aroused by her feeling of insecurity…but that didn't stop her heart pounding the way it was right now. Allowing herself a moment to collect her wits, she impatiently ran her hand through her hair, grimacing when her fingers passed over one of the tiny bald spots Pete had left her with. Dwelling on that for a moment she glanced at the other door she needed to attend to, and it was with great reluctance that she approached the garage and opened the door.

It was the smell that hit her first, invading her senses and making her momentarily recoil, but it wasn't the smell she had expected. She had braced herself for blood, the coppery smell that lingered for days…not bleach. Raising the sweatshirt over her mouth and nose Carrie stepped into the garage with caution, waiting for her eyes to start watering from the harsh chemical, but it was what she found that made her eyes moisten.

Everything was gone…well, almost everything. The supplies from the safe house had been cleared out, leaving only the cupboards, shelves, gun cabinets and surveillance that had been there before. In the middle of the garage was the fold up table that housed the Lego Death Star Rick and Carl had been working on, the pieces organised into small containers and the remnants of the semi-repaired construction sitting proudly in the centre. There was absolutely no indication that something terrible had happened in here, that a young teen had been shot and a man beaten to death.

She didn't know why she hadn't expected this. Had she been been expecting to find Pete's corpse ambling around in here? That there would still be blood everywhere? Someone, or more likely an entire team had been in here to clean up, to take care of Pete's corpse and scrub away the evidence of what had happened. Coming further inside Carrie took a closer look around, trying to remember where it had all happened, where Carl had been laying and where Pete had attempted to strangle her. Her suspicions aroused by a large mat that hadn't been there before, Carrie headed over to the gun safes and lifted it, the grey strain on the concrete confirming that this had been where Carl fell. Though it appeared to have been scrubbed for it reeked of bleach, the discoloured concrete was a permanent reminder of what had happened here. She set the mat back down and looked around again, replaying the events in her mind, recalling that Pete had wrenched her back when she tried to help Carl.

Following the logical path she looked to the rear of the garage where she found another randomly placed mat. It filled her with great satisfaction to lift it up and see the same grey discolouration on the concrete, seeing the large pool of blood that had resulted from the head injuries she had inflicted on Pete. She dropped the mat and looked up, recalling the way the blood had been spattered over the walls and ceiling. Much like the floor, the garage door and ceiling had been scrubbed with bleach, and though the blood had been successfully removed, the clean spots were quite distinct to the eye. That was the problem with cleaning only one part…the dirt that wasn't immediately apparent was cleaned off, leaving that single patch cleaner than the rest.

Feeling a little better about things, she wandered through the clean and orderly garage and sank down into one of the office chairs, nudging the computer mouse and illuminating the screens. Still yet to find enough of the right cabling for the southern side of Alexandria, only three cameras were in use right now, given them a two hundred and seventy degree view of the world outside, with the exception of a few blind spots they would eventually close. Bringing her feet up Carrie settled into the office chair and watched the world, her eyes following the path of the only Walker on the screen. It wandered aimlessly, reminding her of how she felt in that moment.

The minutes passed without incident, Carrie's attention beginning to wander as she looked around the garage. She remembered the day she and Rick had spent in here together, when they had cleaned and organised the abundance of supplies brought back from the Georgia supply run. He had let her loose with a label maker, obediently following all instructions and allowing her to organise the supplies as she saw fit. It had been a good day spent with one another, the ease a factor that at the time had reminded her that they had more going for their relationship than just sex. Though she wasn't yet ready to face him she wondered what he was going, if he was coping with what had happened. She had a vague recollection of seeing him last night, but couldn't be sure if he had really been there with her or if her mind was just making that up.

When she heard the front door open and close Carrie's heart rate began to speed up, her muscles tensing at the sound of the intrusion. In the back of her mind she knew it was only Carol, she recognised the sound of her footfall, but still she felt on edge. The comfort of feeling safe and secure in Alexandria was gone now, and there was no telling how long it would take for her to not feel on edge, to get past this uncertainty. Denise had warned her that she might feel overly paranoid in the days to come, that it was natural following an attack such as this…that didn't make her feel much better though.

Listening to her footsteps, Carrie pictured Carol as she bustled around the living area, hearing the fridge open and close….then open and close again a short while later. Trying not to act irrationally, Carrie turned her attention back to the surveillance system, trying to appreciate the sense of control it gave her to be aware of the world outside, but this lasted only a moment. The sound of Carol's footsteps grew closer and louder now, forcing Carrie to push her chair back and look into the hallway. She needed to see the person coming, she needed to be fully aware of who was coming for her and how close they were.

Her pulse was rapid, her muscles tense and ready to act…but she relaxed when she saw Carol entering the room, even more so when she saw what she was carrying with her. Bearing two glasses of white wine, Carol entered the garage and held one out to her.

"I thought Denise told me no alcohol," she remarked, though this didn't stop her taking the glass.

Carol scoffed playfully. "What does she know? She's only a doctor. Besides, it's only half a glass."

"Thank you," she said sincerely, touching her glass to Carol's.

"To Chardonnay…solving our problems since the age of fifteen."

Carrie raised her eyebrows in mild amusement, struggling to picture Carol drinking wine as a fifteen year old. She took a sip, enjoying the refreshing taste and cool liquid that felt heavenly slipping down her throat. "Thank you," she said again, needing to reiterate it. She looked into the glass, appreciating the flavours she could taste. "How bad was Daryl's hangover this morning?"

Smiling, Carol chuckled to herself. "He spent the night in Rosemary's strawberry patch. Sasha turned on the sprinklers this morning, gave him a rude awakening."

To her surprise, Carrie managed a laugh, a genuine one at that. It strained at her throat, making it ache a little, but it eased the ache inside her heart even more. "Is he home now?"

Shaking her head, Carol leant against the desk and took a sip of her wine. "No. He's out somewhere, I'm not sure when he'll be back."

She was disappointed to hear this, but the news hadn't come as a surprise. As she sipped at her wine again she tried to think of something else to say, glad when Carol started filling the silence for her.

"We've had a good crop from Bob's gardens, so I'm making a potato soup for dinner."

"It smells nice," she complimented, having noted the pot on the stove.

In the back of her mind she suspected that Carol wasn't making potato soup because of the good crop, but because it would be easier for her to eat, gentler on her throat that still ached a little. Nevertheless she didn't say anything more, not wanting to bring up anything to do with Pete or Carl.

To her relief the next few hours passed with relative ease, and although she quickly finished her glass of wine she didn't pour herself another. Instead she allowed Carol to take care of her, grateful to have her there with her. That evening they ate in the living room with bowls of soup in their lap, and though she knew how delicious it was the soup sat heavily in her stomach, making her feel lethargic and sluggish. Nevertheless she ate what she could and then curled up on the couch, she and Carol watching her favourite television series, Bones.

Though she knew nothing of the characters or plot Carrie was glad for it, appreciating that she had something with which to pass the time that didn't require much thought. She lay curled up with her legs tucked to her chest and her broken wrist cradled on a pillow, Carol also lounging on the other end of the couch. Laying there it was easy for her to tune out from the reality she wasn't yet ready to face, easy for her to stop thinking about Rick and Carl, about Jessie. In the quiet moments in between episodes she wondered how Jessie was doing, wondering if there was anything she could do for her. She wanted to tell her that she was sorry, even though they both would have known it was a lie.

An hour later when Michonne came down Carrie closed her eyes, feigning sleep to avoid interacting with her. She didn't want to bother telling Michonne that she was alright, nor did she want to awkwardly avoid her invitation to see Carl. So instead she lay there with her eyes closed, listening as Carol spoke to her before getting up and going into the kitchen. Then Carrie listened as the two women talked in hushed tones, the microwave heating Michonne's dinner stifling most of what was said. She suspected that they were talking about her, both offering reassurances and concerns, and then when their voices became a little more audible she was confident the topic had changed. Now they talked about Carl, and then Rick too. If Michonne got her way she was going to send him home to sleep that night, though neither women were entirely sure he would leave the Infirmary.

When Michonne left a short while later Carol returned to the living room, and if she suspected that Carrie had been awake the entire time she didn't say anything. Instead she simply returned the episode back to the place in which she had stopped watching, and then a few hours later hit stop. Having stopped feigning sleep at the start of the last episode, Carrie gave a long sigh before slowly getting up. While Carol bustled around and tidied the last of the mess in the kitchen Carrie lingered on the couch a little longer, trying to find the energy to get up. Though it was late and body and mind tired, the idea of getting up and going to bed felt like too much. She didn't want to close her eyes right now, she didn't want to lay in the silence and play the events of yesterday over and over again in her head.

Her preference was to stay downstairs and continue watching television, so when Carol indicated that she was going to bed Carrie bade her goodnight and then lay back down. She started a new episode and let her mind tune out, and only when she was sure that Carol had finished up in her bathroom and retired to bed did she get up from the couch. Knowing exactly what she wanted she went to the refrigerator and took out the bottle of chardonnay, and then took her used glass out of the dishwasher to use it again. With a glass full of wine she returned to the living room and sank back down onto the couch. Just as the warm soup had, the cool wine soothed her throat with every sip, compelling her to finish the glass and then pour just a little more.

It was another hour before she finally rose and went to bed, and as she went she walked by the front door and turned the deadbolt. There was little point in this, for anyone who wanted to break in could simply put their hand through the cardboard covering the hole in the side door, but the motion of securing herself safely inside her home brought the sense of safety she needed that night. Still dreading the prospect of closing her eyes and going to sleep, Carrie slowly made her way upstairs, making sure to take each step gently so as to not aggravate the bruises on her legs. Her body ached all over, the pounding in the front of her head compelling her to take one of the Tylenol pills Denise had dispensed. As she cautiously swallowed it with a sip of water she settled down onto her bed and got comfortable, using a pillow to prop up the mystery novel she had been reading for weeks now.

She could barely comprehend what she was reading, the characters and plot lost on her in these circumstances, but she had little care. Doing what was necessary to avoid thinking about what had happened, she carefully read every line and took in all she could, forcing herself to read even as her head swayed and her eyes drooped. Despite her exhaustion she was conscious of the moment her body gave in to sleep, and it was with a rush of relief that she closed her eyes and sank into the welcome darkness of nothing.

What felt like hours later she felt herself rousing, and it was with a soft sign that she felt herself moving onto her back, her good hand reaching up to rub her eyes. She lay there on her bed for a few moments before opening her eyes, but when she did she immediately wished that she hadn't. In the corner of her room lingered the shadow of an intruder.


	56. Chapter 56

Not for the first time, Rick was walking the streets of Alexandria after dark. It was a routine of his, something he did at the crack of dawn, at sunset and then once more before he went to sleep, his way of reassuring himself that all was well. But unlike the nights before, tonight he walked with purpose, a clear destination and goal in mind.

Home. Shower. Sleep.

Tonight the duty of making rounds did not fall to him. Instead it fell to whoever Abraham and Daryl delegated, for Rick had taken on board Carol's advice. He didn't even need to tell his group that things had to change, that for a second time he needed to take a step back from leadership to care for his son. While Carol might have discussed with them the finer details, everyone stepped up into their new roles without being asked, taking control and covering their bases while Rick could not.

As he breathed in the fresh summer night he felt strange to be outside of the Infirmary, to be away from his child who needed him so much, but tonight there was nothing more he could do for Carl. Needing uninterrupted rest, Carl had been swept off to sleep by Denise's sweet concoction of pain killers, and he showed no signs of waking. It was soon clear that Rick's long standing position by Carl's side was being taken over, and as he watched Michonne spread out her blanket and lay down beside him he knew he was being given his orders. Earlier she'd told him that he was to go home once Carl was asleep, that he was to get a full night of rest and prepare himself for the emotional toll of the next day.

Nevertheless he stayed for a few hours after Carl had gone to sleep, grateful that Michonne didn't try to force him to go home immediately. Only when he felt ready did he kiss his son's forehead and depart, confident that Denise and Michonne would monitor him throughout the night. He would be called for the moment Carl needed him, and until then he was expected to have trust, to take care of himself. Yet as he walked home it felt strange for him to be leaving his son…sometimes it felt like the world outside ceased to exist, and the fact that the sun continued to rise and fall each day was inconsequential. It had been over twenty four hours since Carl had been shot, and in that time a great deal had happened. Pete had been buried (miles away by the side of the road, much to Rick's satisfaction), the chickens had laid more eggs, Judith had terrorised Eugene with her dirty diaper…life went on.

He slowed his pace as he walked past Jessie's house, and he looked inside the dark windows as though he'd get some insight into her well being. The curtains were drawn as per procedure, and there were no signs of life, no indication that she and her boys were awake. When he consulted his watch and remembered it was approaching midnight he understood why, though part of him suspected that Jessie was awake, perhaps with a strong drink in one hand and a cigarette in the other. For a moment he wondered how Ron and Sam were taking the death of their father, how they would or would not cope in the coming months. But his concern for them was fleeting, for how could he spare them a thought when his own son had come so close to death?

It didn't matter to him that Ron and Sam had lost their father. He was glad the mongrel was dead, and he wished he'd been able to do it himself. The damage Pete inflicted was irreversible. He'd attacked Carrie and tried to murder her, he'd maimed and forever changed Carl's life…he told him about Lori and Shane.

As his stomach churned, Rick pushed that latter thought out of his mind. Carl had been awake that day, they'd talked about a few things, namely his injury and Carrie, but the topic of Lori hadn't come up. Perhaps he didn't remember…or perhaps Carol was mistaken, maybe Pete hadn't told Carl about his mother's mistake. Clinging to that single hope, he continued on his way home, resisting the need to stop in at the second house. It was too late at night to disturb them, too late to sneak a peak at his sleeping daughter who had likely cried her way into bed beside Glenn and Maggie. She had a way with tears lately, and he suspected it would be Glenn who caved in first, not Maggie. He was a soft touch when it came to Judith, and she knew it.

He had looked forward to the relief of coming home, to the sense of comfort it ought to bring him, but he was denied it tonight. He didn't feel at home, he didn't feel any sense of relief. Much to his annoyance the front door was locked, the denial of entry forcing him to rifle through his duty belt for his keychain. Wondering who had bothered locking the front door now that their greatest threat was gone, he came inside and closed it behind himself. No lights had been left on downstairs, yet it was no trouble to make his way through the dark. He stopped by the front closet and opened the safe, removing his Colt from the holster and safely locking it inside. This was the first time he'd been home since it happened, he was still wearing the same clothes he had worn to church on Sunday, and he ought to go straight upstairs and take a shower. Instead he quietly made his way through the house and entered the garage, wanting to see the scene of Pete's attack.

There was nothing that took him by surprise, having known in advance that an entire crew of Alexandrians had worked through the night to clean up. They wanted to make sure there was no evidence of what happened by the time Carrie was discharged from the Infirmary that morning, not even a hint of mess, and they'd done well. Restored to its former tidiness and organisation, the excess supplies had been removed and the remaining contents put back in order, but it was the smell of bleach that was the main evidence of Pete's attack. The areas that had been cleaned were very apparent, an entire section of the ceiling and garage door that was cleaner than everywhere else. This was where the blood had been. Noticing two large mats that hadn't been there before, Rick lifted one and looked underneath.

His stomach churned at sight of the discoloured concrete, for no amount of scrubbing would remove the slightly greyed areas. This was where someone had laid in blood, where someone had fallen. Determined to understand what had happened, he consulted the discolouration beneath the other mat and compared them. It didn't take much to figure that the patch by the garage door was where Pete had died, the extensive cleaning on the walls and ceiling supporting the notion that there had been extensive blood spatter. Looking to the stained concrete by the gun safes, Rick noted that Carl had been laying there, the blood stain smaller and more contained.

Trying to picture the scene in his mind's eye he looked back in the direction of the desk and surveillance system, noting that one of the screens he had mounted to the wall was missing. Behind it was a few square inches of unpainted dry wall, indicating a repair had been made. Still looking around he found the path of the other bullet that had been fired, noting a clean hole in the garage door. He wished that he had more experience in this type of thing, that he could perfectly understand what had happened here, that he could determine which bullet hole was from the first shot. He wanted to map out the trajectory of the bullet that had struck his son, he wanted to know where it had been fired, what was happening at the time…he wanted to know every finite detail, and yet at the same time he did not.

Deciding he knew enough already, he departed the garage and closed the door behind him, not wanting to see anymore. He'd spoken to Daryl that day, who in the midst of a miserable hangover had told him what had happened, that he'd heard the first gunshot followed by screaming. In the split second it had taken him to leap down from the north post a second shot had been fired, and by the time he broke through the locked door Carrie's screams had fallen silent. He'd found Pete on top of her, his face expressionless as he pressed his hands around her throat, unburdened by her attempts to save herself. Daryl had spared a single bolt for Pete, doing what he could to get him off Carrie - but it was to Carl's aid that he went first. Daryl hadn't said anymore than that, unable to voice the magnitude of what happened, of what he felt. But at the time it had been enough to satisfy Rick's desperation to know, his innate need to understand what had happened to his son and the woman he loved.

Not delaying a moment more, for time away from Carl was not to be wasted, Rick went upstairs with the intention of showering and collapsing into bed. However when he reached the upstairs landing he knew that it wouldn't be so simple, that a need he felt strongly was presenting itself to him. Standing in the dark hallway he looked at the closed door at the very end, Carrie's bedroom. The light must be on inside, the soft glow at the bottom of the door encouraging him to come closer. In that moment he wanted nothing more than to go to her, to spend the night sleeping beside her, but a part of him was uncertain. She'd been through a horrific ordeal. Pete had violently attacked her. According to Carl he'd groped her, put his hands all over her body. The very thought that Pete's assault on her would be so personal and intimate made Rick's blood boil. Carrie had to be suffering. After everything she'd been through having been taken advantage of by Granger's group, now Pete too?

Perhaps the last thing Carrie wanted was a man coming into her bed late at night, regardless of his innocent intentions. But another part of him encouraged him to try, to test the waters. She might welcome his presence, his comfort…they hadn't seen each other since she and Carl left on Sunday afternoon to take lunch to those on watch, and it felt like weeks had passed. God knew he could use some comfort from her tonight, he could use anything she was capable of giving him.

Deciding on the necessity of showering first, Rick slipped into his bedroom first, feeling ill at ease by Judith's empty crib. He knew she was fine, that she was cared for by family, but it made his stomach jolt to see her crib vacant. Again he had to resist the urge to go next door and look in on her, telling himself he'd only be disturbing her sleep…Maggie would have his head if he awoke her.

Relishing in the warm shower he quickly set about getting cleaned up, for the sooner he was finished the sooner he could rest. Michonne had been right of course, like she always was. What his family was going through was emotionally heavy, leaving him feeling drained and empty. He needed to get away from the Infirmary, to recharge himself before trying to get through another day. Carl had spent the majority of the first day in a groggy haze, awake but not fully able to comprehend what had happened to him. The enormity of it was lost, the implications for the rest of his life not truly understood. So while the first day had been hard, tomorrow when understanding dawned would be worse.

When the first signs of restlessness began Rick had been on the edge of his seat, ready for his son to open his eyes ( _cringing, he corrected himself…eye_ ) and look at him. But it seemed to take hours for Carl to genuinely awaken, for although his eyelid fluttered and his hand responded to Rick's desperate squeeze, he was still very much in and out of it. Not until early the morning after did he awaken properly, groaning as he raised his hand towards his head.

"Don't do that," Rick told him softly, catching his hand before it could reach the bandage on his face. "Easy now…just go easy."

"Dad?" he mumbled in confusion, turning his head towards Rick.

"It's me," he assured him, getting up from his chair and sitting on the edge of the bed. He took both of Carl's hands and held them in his own, rubbing his fingers so that the sensation kept his attention.

Clearing his throat Carl seemed to sniffle for a moment, and then winced. He grunted in pain, trying to take his hand out of Rick's. "Dad…my face hurts," he mumbled again, his words only just distinguishable. "Wha' happened?"

"You're in the Infirmary," he told him, choosing the most straightforward answer. "You've been hurt, but you're going to be okay."

Carl mumbled, the tone indicating that he had heard and understood, but he said no more. It was almost another hour before he opened his eye again and spoke, appearing a little more alert this time. He spoke a more clearly now, giving a slight nod of his head when Denise offered him water.

"Dad…" he began after drinking a few sips. His eyelid still heavy with exhaustion, he looked at him in confusion. "What happened?"

Bracing himself, and trying to remember everything he and Carol talked about, Rick answered him. "You're in the Infirmary. You've been hurt, but you're going to be okay."

A few moments passed and then he started squirming, grunting as he dug his elbows into the bed. "I wanna sit up."

Letting Denise help him, Carl slowly sat up and pulled his knees to his chest, swaying a little as he tried to orient himself. As Denise coached him to take some deep breaths Rick watched on apprehensively, waiting for the moment that his son would remember sustaining his injury. He swallowed heavily and raised his hand to his head, but to Rick's surprise Denise allowed him to touch the bandage, to place his hand over the eye socket.

"That's a bandage," she told him, gripping his wrist to ensure he didn't apply too much pressure. "You have to be gentle. Can you tell me if it hurts?"

"I…feel dizzy," he mumbled, his hand still resting on the bandage. "And it hurts…my head hurts."

"I'll get you something for the pain," she assured him, looking over her shoulder to where Rosita lingered in the door way.

"What happened?" Carl asked again, breathing out as he lowered his hand into his lap. "Dad?"

It took Rick a moment to find the words, knowing that he was about to force reality onto his son. Was he ready to hear the truth? Was he strong enough? "You were shot yesterday."

He groaned in agreement, nodding every so slightly. "Yeah…it feels like it."

When he raised his hand and tried to touch his face again, Denise looked at Rick imperatively, a gentle nod of her head prompting him to continue. She wanted him to tell Carl everything, and he had to trust her judgement.

"Carl…you were shot in the face," he told him, keeping his voice even. He hesitated before he continued, but then forced himself to continue. "I'm sorry, but your right eye is gone."

His reaction was rather muted, a slight frown crossing his face before he winced in pain, the slight movement of his facial muscles bothering him. He turned to Rick and looked at him in confusion, blinking slowly as he tried to comprehend what he'd just been told.

"What?"

"You were shot in the face, and your right eye is gone."

Carl turned to Denise now, looking at her for clarification or disagreement. Silence resumed, Carl still looking confused as the news sank in. A few moments passed before he raised his hand and touched the bandage again, going gently at Denise's reminder. Rick waited with bated breath for him to say something, to give an actual reaction to the news, but when he did it wasn't what he wanted to hear.

"No, it's not," he said insistently, groaning slightly as he swayed. "I can feel it…it's fine."

"I'm sorry Carl," Denise began. "But your dad's right. Your eye is gone."

He looked at her in disbelief. "Are you sure?"

"Yes."

"But I can feel it," he insisted wearily. He turned back to Rick, his distress and confusion evident. "Dad?"

"I-"

"I can feel it, Dad!" he insisted, his voice indicating his growing distress.

"Carl," he said firmly. Though he wanted to freeze, to give in to his own sadness and fear, Rick knew he had to pull himself together. His son was looking to him not for clarification but for comfort, for reassurance. "I want you to listen to me."

"But, Dad…"

"Listen," he insisted. Taking Carl's hand he moved a little closer to him, holding his gaze. "It's going to be okay. I know it doesn't feel like that now, I know you're scared, confused…but everything's going to be okay. I promise."

Still it seemed Carl didn't believe them, but he held Rick's gaze and then slowly nodded his head, his hands beginning to shake as he looked away. "Pete…Pete shot me."

"Yes."

Carl took a deep breath at this, groaning softly. A few moments passed as they sat in silence, interrupted only by Rosita who discreetly came in to administer a little more pain relief. "Pete shot me…" he said quietly, speaking to himself before turning to Rick. "He shot me in the face?"

"Yes."

"What about Carrie?" he asked urgently. "Is she alright?"

"Yes, she is," he assured him. He glanced behind Carl at Michonne, grateful for the nod of support that indicated he was doing well.

There was a long pause, Carl slowly digesting the news of what had happened. The corners of his mouth turned downward, and he seemed to grimace before he continued. He looked up at Rick again, his expression anguished. "I was just trying to help her."

"I know."

"He was attacking her," he whispered, trying to get all of his explanation out as his voice filled with distress. "I came in, and he was on top of her like he was going to…to…"

"Carl," Rick tried to stop him.

"He kept putting his hand up her dress, and she was crying, but he…I didn't know what to do," he moaned, his left cheek becoming wet. "I was trying to help her, but she kept yelling at me, and-"

"She was yelling at you?"

He nodded tearfully, clutching Rick's hands tightly. "She kept yelling at me to leave, to go and get you, but I couldn't," he insisted. "I had to do something…I couldn't leave her."

Why hadn't he listened to her? He should have left, he should have protected himself first. But Rick knew his son, knew that he wouldn't put himself first in that situation. He was still so young, still thought that he was invincible…he didn't understand how loved he was, nor how vulnerable his life was.

"You did the right thing," he managed to say, though in his heart he wished his son had fled and saved himself. "You wanted to protect her."

"Is she alright?" he asked, managing to speak around his emotions.

"She's okay, I promise."

"Did he do anything to her?" he asked now, his tone angered. "Did he rape her?"

"No," he said very quickly, having harboured this fear too.

When he'd looked in on Carrie's sleeping form the previous night he'd learnt just enough to piece together what had and hadn't happened to her. If Carl hadn't seen her actually being raped, then in the brief moments that followed his being shot Pete would not have had the opportunity to do so before Daryl's arrival. It was a reassurance to him that regardless of the assault she'd endured, it hadn't escalated that far, Pete hadn't had the opportunity to do anything else. In the grand scheme of things, it was a small reassurance.

Following his explanation of the events Carl had crumbled completely, though a small part of Rick was glad for this. He had cried himself back to sleep in minutes, held close against Rick's shoulder with his hands clenched in his shirt. Sooner than he expected it was over, he and Denise laying Carl back down into the bed as the additional morphine relieved his pain and helped him sleep. Still in place at the head of the bed, Michonne's eyes were glassy and her cheeks wet with tears, her expression mimicking Rick's as she stroked Carl's hair and looked at him sadly. Hours passed, and it was not until early afternoon that he roused again. This time around things felt a little easier, though Rick knew that his son still didn't truly understand what had happened to him. He asked about Carrie again, her name being one of the first things that came up, and he seemed disappointed by the news that she was at home, that according to Carol she was sleeping heavily.

That afternoon while Michonne was still at home Denise had needed to check on Carl's wound, to change the dressings and check what kind of progress it had made. Carl had endured the discomfort, his face twisted into a pained grimace as Rick held his hand, trying not to dwell on how small and scared his son looked, on how he felt the same. He was powerless to help him, unable to relieve any of his pain, physical or emotional. When Carl requested to see the injury Rick's instinct had been to say no, to convince him that it wasn't a good time. He wanted Carl to wait a day or so, to wait until they were both better prepared to see it, but Denise acquiesced by finding a handheld mirror. Rick waited with bated breath as Carl looked at his face in the mirror, fully prepared to handle his reaction, to comfort him when he learned that the injury was real. But his reaction was subdued, making Rick question again whether he had really absorbed the magnitude.

He seemed to study his face quite closely, a twitch of his hand indicating that he wanted to touch it. While Denise bustled around and prepared her supplies for the new dressing Carl continued looking in the mirror, still trying to understand. Giving him as much time as possible, Rick too studied the injury, but was still unable to make out much other than the angry red flesh of the empty eye socket. Finally he could take the silence no longer, and he needed some indication of what his son was thinking.

"Are you okay?" he asked, giving his hand a squeeze.

Carl didn't answer, but raised his other hand to the blister on his upper lip. "What happened here?"

"I think it was the shell casing."

"And this?" he enquired, touching a small cut on his right nostril.

"From the ejection port, when it closed."

Trying to make sense of it, Carl studied the trajectory of the minor injuries and conjunction with his eye, putting together in his mind what had happened. Rick too was imagining what happened, able to picture the gun's barrel pressed against Carl's cheek in a heated scuffle, the trigger being pulled and the bullet grazing the front of his eye. Had the angle of the trajectory been slightly different Carl could have gotten away with minor injuries or been instantly killed…he was incredibly lucky to be alive, though he wasn't yet likely to see the value in this.

Not wanting to see anymore, Carl put the mirror down on the bed and sighed, but gave no reaction other than that soft sound. His lack of reaction was perhaps just as awful as the potential, for his numbness only dragged out the grief. Rick wanted it to be over, for Carl to start lamenting the injury and it's impact. The sooner they could get through that the sooner he could recover, the sooner he could start resuming his life. It wouldn't be simple nor easy, but Rick needed it to start as soon as possible, not wanting his son's pain to be extended. But for now it seemed Carl wasn't ready to deal with the implications, his mind numbing him to the reality so that he could process it all more slowly. He seemed relieved when Denise started repacking the wound, for despite the uncomfortable procedure he was able to close his remaining eye, to hide whatever he might be feeling from Rick.

After Denise was finished things Carl simply laid his head on the pillow and looked at his hand in Rick's, speaking a few moments later. "Do you think Carrie will come visit tonight?"

"I…I don't know," he said, for at that stage he knew nothing other than she had returned home. "I'll make sure she comes tomorrow."

"She's really okay?" he questioned softly, glancing up at him.

Realising that Carl didn't believe him, Rick looked him in the eye and held his gaze. "I haven't properly seen her…but Carol said she's okay. I'll make sure she comes tomorrow, I promise."

It was an empty promise, Rick having no idea of Carrie was in any condition to be making a bedside visit, but it seemed to be enough for now. With that Carl nodded and then seemed to relax further into the pillow, his eyelid drooping until a short while later he was fast asleep once more.

Rick shook his head, bringing himself out of his dazed thoughts. As he washed shampoo from his hair and debated whether or not to bother shaving, he looked at the bottle of Clearasil on Carl's section of the double shower suite, its necessity born from a sudden eruption of acne. It was unsettling to think that a week ago Carl had been annoyed by acne on his chin, whereas now his self-esteem was eroded by a life threatening injury, a self-perceived flaw that couldn't truly be covered or hidden.

Finishing up he dressed in some comfortable sweats and a tee-shirt before setting out a pair of shoes, knowing that he may need to return to the Infirmary at a moment's notice. He would go barefoot if he needed to, that would be the last of his problems right now, but it helped him feel a little more organised, more in control. He'd spent over a day feeling helpless and at the mercy of fate, a state he had never favoured, particularly where his children were concerned. Wandering his bedroom as he brushed his teeth he headed to the window and pulled back the drapes, looking out onto the street below. He didn't know what he was looking for, for he knew that if he was needed Michonne would use their radios, but he looked just in case. The street was just as empty as it was when he returned home, the stillness contrasting the chaotic emotions inside his head.

He still felt torn about whether it was the right thing to do, uncertain of whether or not his presence would be welcomed during this particular time, but a short while later Rick was heading down the hallway to Carrie's bedroom. Not even bothering trying to sleep alone he went straight to her, knowing what it was he needed right now, and praying she needed the same thing. They hadn't spoken at all since Sunday afternoon, when everything had been perfect and they'd been shrouded in happiness and optimism. He didn't really know what her state of mind was, how well she was or wasn't coping with what happened to her, let alone how she was coping with what happened to Carl.

Though he had his reservations, the light underneath Carrie's door was what prompted him to go inside, and he hoped that he would find her awake. He knocked lightly and waited, and hearing no reply he decided to let himself in, but he was met with disappointment. She was fast asleep, sprawled out on her bed with a book beneath her arm, the pages scrunched from how it lay. Standing there in the threshold he observed her for a few moments, taking in the small amount of relief he could feel. It felt strange to be home, and stranger still to see her sleeping in her bed after it had been empty for so long, but it was a welcome change. Though he knew he couldn't lay down beside her, fearing that she'd awaken and be startled, he nevertheless slipped inside the door and gently closed it. He wanted to stay for a short while, to just be there with her until he felt ready to retire to his own room.

He sank down into the semi-comfortable arm chair and prepared to settle in for a while, rubbing his tired eyes. It was less than ideal, he would have a crick in his neck soon, but it would be worth it just to be near her. The lamp on the nightstand had been left on, the light casting shadows over her face that made her look older and more weary than she was. As unkind as it was to think, she didn't look good, and he wondered how much sleep she'd managed to get since her release from the Infirmary. Just like it had on him the ordeal had taken its toll, but hers had been a different toll entirely. In spite of the June warmth she was clad in long leggings and a heavy sweatshirt, Michonne's if he wasn't mistaken. He wondered if like him she had been voluntarily confined indoors, he with his son and she with Carol for company.

Letting his eyes run down her long legs he thought back to the previous night, when he'd looked in on her for the first time. Her injuries had been extensive but minor, though it was the bruising on her thighs that he couldn't get out of his mind, the long scratch on her upper leg. Carl had told him that Pete was on top of her, that he put his hands up her dress, that she was crying. The very thought of him assaulting her like that made Rick want to be sick, even after having had hours to digest the news.

Trying not to think about it, Rick rubbed his hands over his face and tried to empty his mind, wishing for a way to clear all of his thoughts and worries away. But it was easier said than done, and the image of Pete attacking Carrie was constantly in his mind's eye, his heart aching with remorse and guilt. While the people he loved had been fighting for their lives, he had been on the other side of the community without a care in the world, enjoying the beautiful June weather.

To his relief Carrie started to rouse now, letting out a long sigh when she turned onto her back. Not wanting to startle her Rick stayed where he was and didn't say anything, content to wait for her to rouse. It hadn't been his intention that he wake her for his own selfish needs, but he didn't go out of his way to encourage her back to sleep either. He wanted to see her, to hear her voice as if a part of him still feared that she wasn't real, that she hadn't survived. So when her eyes fluttered open and she raised her hand to the bridge of her nose he was both glad and impatient with her. Silently he urged her to hurry, to raise her head and look at him.

She did raise her head, she did look at him…but the soft gasp and sudden tensing of her muscles was not what he wanted to see. There was a moment when fright flashed through her eyes, her momentary fear making him regret coming in here. But soon enough her shoulder's relaxed, her expression softening as she looked at him properly, and it was then he saw the relief he hoped for. She was glad to see him there, regardless of his uninvited arrival late at night. Despite this she still shied away from him a little, and he noticed the way she moved further up the bed to put more space between them.

"Hey," she said softly, looking at him uncertainly.

Her voice sounded just as he remembered, indicating that she was recovering from Pete's attempt to strangle her. Carol had reported that she sounded hoarse, that her throat was hurting her, and this only compounded the things Rick had to worry about.

"I'm sorry," he began softly, feeling that she should apologise for his uninvited arrival. "I just wanted to see you…just for a little while," he concluded lamely.

She nodded in understanding. There was a brief pause before she sat up properly, looking down at the book and hastily straightening the pages. She looked at it for longer than necessary, drawing out the silence between them, but Rick waited until she was ready to speak. Finally she raised her head and looked at him again, fidgeting nervously by pushing her hair behind her ear.

"How is he?"

She didn't need to clarify her question. "He's…numb," he stated, feeling that best described his current state. "He's sleeping right now. Michonne's with him."

"That's good. That's she with him," she hastily added. There was another brief pause, and he could tell that something was weighing on her mind, that she was hesitant to bring it up. "Has he…has he really lost his eye?"

"Yes."

Her shoulder's sagged at this, her lips pressed into a thin line as she looked away from him. "I didn't believe Denise when she told me," she said quietly, her voice sounding strained now. "I thought that maybe she was mistaken…I thought everyone was lying."

Rick didn't say anything, unsure of what to say. Instead he sat there and watched Carrie, observing the sadness on her face, the overwhelming reality that was beginning to dawn on her just like it was about to for Carl. They were on opposite sides of the room, Carrie hastily wiping at her eyes before he could see them wet, while he sat there trying to hold himself together too. There was so much to say, so much to talk about, and yet he couldn't find the words for any of it.

"What about you?" she asked, trying to hide the waver in her voice. "Are you okay?"

It took him a moment to respond, but like most people did when they were not okay, he nodded. Instantly he knew that his response wouldn't be enough, that Carrie needed to hear how he was really doing, and so he tried a little harder. "I'm scared," he admitted, his throat becoming tight with emotion. "I…I don't know what to do. I don't know how to fix it."

She nodded in agreement, trying her best to hold his gaze until it became too much. Her shoulders shook as she lowered her gaze to the bed, her hand hastening to stifle whatever sound was threatening to escape her lips. He moved forward on the seat, sitting on the very edge as he spoke perhaps the most important words he would ever say to her.

"I want to thank you for what you did," he said sincerely, meaning it with everything he had. "I-"

"Don't," she said abruptly, looking up at him. "Please, Rick…don't. I…"

It seemed she could say no more, her words trailing off as she lowered her head and looked into her lap. Her shoulders shook as she started to cry, her breath coming in small gasps as tears slipped from her eyes. Seeing this he slowly got to his feet, moving in such a way that she could see his intentions. He felt compelled to go to her, to give her the comfort they both so desperately needed, and so he sat down on the opposite side of the bed, being close but giving her space too. Tentatively he reached out and put his hand on the bed beside hers, their fingers touching just enough to get her attention. She took a shuddering breath and then looked at his hand, and to his utter relief she moved hers into his, entwining their fingers and squeezing tightly.

"Carl told me what happened, he told me that you tried to make him leave." He closed his eyes for a moment, feeling them welling up with his own grief. "You tried to protect him, I know you did," he said emphatically. "I can't ever thank you enough for that."

"But I didn't protect him," she whispered, her jaw quivering as she spoke. "I'm sorry, Rick…I'm so sorry."

He didn't try to stop her apology, understanding that while he needed to thank her, she needed to apologise, to express her regret for what happened. "I know you are." Needing to touch her, he slowly raised his hand and stroked it through her hair, letting come to rest on the side of her jaw. He encouraged her to look up at him, his thumb wiping at the tears that streamed down her cheek. "I'm sorry too," he whispered hoarsely.

She nodded solemnly, her hand squeezing his so hard it almost hurt as she turned her head into the palm of his hand. There were a few moments of silence between them, broken only by the sound of her shuddering breaths, and then she did something that surprised him. Letting go of his hand she reached for his shirt instead, clenching it as she moved closer to him, seeking his embrace. A small part of the heavy weight on his shoulders began to ease, the feeling of having her back in his arms allowing him for the first time to truly acknowledge that she had survived, that she wasn't lost to him. Finding the physical comfort they both needed Carrie moved closer into his arms again, her shoulders heaving as she put her head into the crook of his neck. He let her cry freely, nuzzling the top of her head while he did the same.

"I'm sorry for what he did to you," he said in a whisper, his hand rubbing the back of her shoulder as her tears began to subside. "I should have stopped him. I should have protected you both…I was wrong."

She didn't correct him, she didn't try to alleviate the guilt he felt, for which he was grateful. They both needed to have their regrets, it was the knowledge that there was no blame from one another that gave them the reprieve they needed. He knew there was nothing to be gained through self-blame, but he couldn't help the feeling that he had driven Pete to do this, that his attempts to corner a bull was what led to bloodshed. After everything he'd been through he should have known better…obsession had driven Pete right over the edge, just as it had once done to Shane.

A few minutes passed, Carrie's tears falling silent so much that Rick wondered if she had fallen asleep. Slowly she raised her head, swallowing heavily as she self-consciously wiped the tears from her face. Her eyes were red and puffy, her pale cheeks highlighting the blotches that marred her skin. Waiting for her to speak Rick resisted the urge to touch her unnecessarily, to run his hands through her hair or over her shoulder, worried that she would shy away from it. When he took a closer look at the bruises on her neck he wouldn't blame her if that was the case, the discoloured skin telling the story of what had happened to her.

Releasing his shirt she moved her hand back down to his instead, her thumb touching the pale line on his fourth finger where his wedding ring used to be. "We can survive this," she said very quietly, clearing her throat before raising her head and looking him in the eye again. "You and me…we're going to be okay."

She spoke with absolute confidence, her decisiveness and resolution bringing him solace. The thought of them falling apart in the aftermath had crossed his mind, fearful that it could ruin them, that their respective trauma could make them turn on one another. He'd seen trauma erode relationships, both before and after the outbreak, and he'd feared the possibility of it happening to he and Carrie. But hearing the strength and conviction of her statement that they would survive reassured him that it wouldn't happen to them, that they'd make sure they got through this. From the moment he'd spoken to Carol the previous night, insisting that he would get both Carl and Carrie through this difficult period, Rick had been willing to fight for her, for the life they still wanted together. Hearing her express the same sentiment was the final reassurance he needed.

"Yes, we are," he assured her, a tearful smile finding its way onto his face. "What happens next is up to us…we decide whether or not we survive this."

She nodded in agreement, her hand still clenched in his shirt. "We can do this, starting right now," she said decisively. A few moments passed as she took some deep breaths, still very much collecting herself. "What can I do to help?"

Rick paused, wondering what reaction his request would garner. He'd noticed of course that she had been absent all day, that she was understandably trying to take care of herself, but he needed her in the coming days. "Come to see Carl tomorrow. He's been asking about you…he's worried."

Nodding slowly, Carrie entwined their fingers together and kept her gaze low. "I will," she agreed, hesitant to continue. "I'm sorry I didn't come by earlier…I just…"

She trailed off, unsure of how to explain herself, but Rick didn't expect her to explain herself to him. "What can _I_ do?" he asked now, returning to question. "What do you need?"

"Nothing. I'm alr-"

"Carrie."

There was a long pause, Carrie's jaw clenched as she mulled over her request, perhaps deciding what she needed or finding the confidence to ask for it. Finally she raised her head and looked at him, her expression hopeful but not expectant. "When are you going back to Carl?"

"Not until the morning."

It seemed this was what she had been hoping. "Will you stay the night? Please."

Rick's heart filled with relief, this having been his hope since deciding to join her that night. All he wanted to do for the next few hours was lay next to her, to hold her as they slept. As he nodded he leant in to kiss her, the motion coming to him naturally, and it was with great relief that he saw her doing the same. But as she leant in she reached out for his other hand, bringing both of his together and putting them on the bed beneath hers. She was trying to take control, to protect herself from any touch that she wasn't ready for, and he would gladly afford her whatever power she needed. Their kiss was a gentle whisper, their lips touching just enough to satisfy the need she felt. Rick wanted to deepen it just a little, to kiss her properly, but it wasn't the time. This was her call right now, it had to be, regardless of how incomplete their kiss left him feeling. When their lips parted Carrie lingered close a little longer, making him hope they would kiss again, that she was just taking her time. He turned his face a little, hopefully waiting for her to do something else.

"I love you," she murmured, pulling away just enough to look at him.

He wanted to touch her, to put his hand on her shoulder or to trail his fingers through her hair, anything to relieve the ache inside him. But with his hands firmly held beneath hers it was easier to resist his needs, to remember that hers were the most important right now. "I love you too. So much."

"I'm sorry I failed you," she whispered, leaning in to kiss him again.

Though he ached for her kiss, Rick turned to avoid her for a moment. "You haven't failed me," he corrected her, not wanting her to think like that. "Carrie, you haven't failed me."

"It feels like I have."

"Same here," he said sincerely.

In his mind she hadn't failed at him at all, it was he who had failed her. Handling Pete was a responsibility he'd taken on, and he'd made too many mistakes with the decision he made, decisions that ended in heartache. Carrie on the other hand had done everything she could to protect Carl from attack, to protect both he and Judith from an awful truth they weren't to know about. She had done her part to keep their family safe from Pete, while Rick's decisions had let him continue to escalate.

Thankfully she didn't say anything more on the matter. She leant in to kiss him like before, her hand on top of his tightening a little to remind him to keep them there. Still he had hoped for a little more, for a kiss that was more than a whisper of touching lips, but it wasn't to be. Taking only what she wanted, Carrie brushed her lips over his and then pulled back, lingering for a moment as she struggled to find the words she was seeking next. She released his hands and looked at him, uncertain of herself.

"Let's go to sleep," she finally said, her shoulders sagging with the weight of her exhaustion and emotional state.

He nodded in agreement, and in that moment his own exhaustion came to the forefront of his mind. It was easy to forget the toll it took on your body when a loved one was hurt, let alone when they sustained injuries like Carl had. There was a brief pause and then Carrie got to her feet, excusing herself as she slipped into her bathroom for a few minutes. Waiting for her Rick took another look around, seeing that despite her ordeal her bedroom was still as clean and tidy as she always kept it. On Sunday afternoon they had agreed that they would soon move in together, and though those plans would be on hold indefinitely, Rick couldn't help but feel a small flicker of amusement. Carrie was clean and tidy by nature, and though he'd always made a reasonable effort to do the same, he knew what he was like. When he was busy things could get out of hand, the bed would go for days without being properly made, both clean and dirty laundry tossed onto the rocking chair until Carol came in and tidied. Conscious of his own habits, he wondered how well that would go down if he and Carrie were sharing a bedroom.

The smile on his face began to fade as he continued looking around her bedroom, his eyes falling on the nightstand where he now noticed three orange pill containers. Two of them contained only one single and one half pill, while the other contained half a dozen, making Rick suspect that the former were for restricted use. Noting that Denise had scrawled the name and dosage on the container with black marker, he figured that she would be dispensing only what was needed, that if Carrie wanted more she would have to go back and ask for it. Listening to her in the bathroom and noting the sound of her brushing her teeth, Rick shuffled across the bed and reached for the pill containers, turning them just a little until he could read the writing. _Take one codeine and acetaminophen for pain. Half a diazepam for sleep._

Hearing Carrie finishing up, Rick hastened back to his unofficial side of the bed, not wanting her to catch him snooping. Though the nights were warm he pulled back the comforter and warm blankets on the bed, checking his watch and then the radio which he placed on his nightstand. It was now after midnight, and he trusted that Carl and Michonne were still as fast asleep as they had been when he left them. Without shame or embarrassment, Carl hadn't seemed to protest when Michonne got into the double bed beside him that night, not rejecting her when she took his hand as they got comfortable. Carl was fine for the night, and now it was Rick's turn to sleep as well. He had the radio, Rosita was awake through the night to monitor Carl…they would call him if they needed to.

There was a strange sense of uncertainty when Carrie came back into the bedroom, making him feel like it was the first night they'd ever spent together. But in reality it wasn't, Rick recalling the night of Judith's birthday and the welcome home party for the Georgia supply run. They'd snuck away from the party to fool around, and with Carl staying elsewhere she'd invited him to spend the night. There had been a few other occasions too, mainly in the early days when Carl still spent the night sleeping at a friends or having a movie marathon with Noah. Rick stayed with Carrie for the night, the two of them easily adapting to one another's needs as they slept. While he liked to sleep stretched out, his hand reaching out towards her throughout the night, Carrie was the opposite. Aside from her tendency to steal blankets she slept entirely on her side of the bed, usually curled up with her chin tucked to her chest. They'd learned to accommodate each other, to cohabitate in a bed that was smaller than the king size he shared with Carl.

Had it been any other night, Rick knew how the routine would have progressed. Carrie would have made a show of getting dressed, coyly making her way around the bedroom in just her underwear as she brushed her teeth, her breasts pressed together as she rubbed moisturiser into her long legs. Rick would have watched every moment, his arousal growing as he resisted the urge to reach out and touch her, drawing out the joy of watching her for as long as possible. But tonight was different, it had to be. When Carrie came out of the bathroom her hair was clumsily tied back, and she still wore the long tights and heavy sweatshirt she'd borrowed from Michonne. She reached for the bottom of it as though she were going to remove it, but she averted her eyes from Rick and seemed to think better of it. He suspected her reasons, anticipating that she both wanted to hide her bruises from him, and to let the fabric act as a barrier, something that would protect her from even his touch.

She joined him on the bed, and as he opened the clasp on his watch and set it aside he heard the pill containers on her nightstand rattle. "Could you open this for me, please?" she asked quietly.

As he opened the container that held only half a diazepam tablet he glanced at the splint on her right arm, at the bandaging around her middle and fourth fingers. What he could see of her hand was marred with bright red scratches, her fingernails damaged and broken just like they had been last night, but it seemed they had been filed down, the ruined nail polish removed.

"Are your fingers broken?"

"I don't know," she shrugged, tipping the pill into her palm and then swallowing it with a sip of water. Tossing the empty container onto her nightstand she began to lay down. "Denise thinks they're just bruised, that's all."

Getting the feeling she didn't want to talk about it, Rick didn't ask anything else about her injuries, he too laying down and settling into the pillows. Every motion that came so naturally had to be resisted now, even the gesture of kissing her cheek good night. It felt incomplete, like he'd forgotten to do something, but she was making the boundaries clear. She turned onto her side to face him, but a pillow was set down between them, a place for her to not only rest her arm but to act as a barrier. She wanted him to stay the night, to be there by her side, but she didn't want him to touch her.

"Do you want the light left on?"

She shook her head. "No, thank you."

He turned off the lamp and engulfed them both in darkness, the only light coming from the red numbers on her alarm clock. Thinking only of how badly he needed to get some sleep he lay down on his side, facing her through the darkness. There was quiet but for the sound of them breathing, Carrie moving occasionally, adjusting the pillow until her arm was comfortable, and then there was nothing. Despite his exhaustion, Rick felt frustratingly awake. He was alert and at the ready, exactly how he should have been on Sunday afternoon. Pete had already slipped away from the party unnoticed, Rick had already noticed him paying too much attention to Carl and Carrie, and yet he hadn't done anything. He'd helped himself to some more food before joining his family, his hand resting on Maggie's belly when she invited him to feel the baby move. He was relaxing when he should have been alert…it was no wonder he couldn't sleep.

Laying there silently he watched the numerals on the alarm clock ticking over, approaching half past twelve and then beyond. As he lay he listened to the sound of Carrie's breathing, suspecting that she lay awake just like him, unable to sleep despite the sedative she'd taken. Every now and then she moved, her actions too methodical to be ones made during sleep. Having given her his full attention he noted that she seemed to be moving gingerly, her arms and legs stiff and uncomfortable. Had she taken any pain relief that night? Was she taking care of herself the way she ought to be?

"Are you awake?"

Her voice was barely more than a whisper, and had he been drifting off to sleep he likely wouldn't have heard it. But still wide awake and alert Rick heard every word, the sound of her voice like a warm melody that cut through the heavy silence.

"Yes."

There was a brief pause, and then Carrie started moving. A moment later he felt her touching him, her fingertips brushing against his shoulder before moving down. Knowing what she wanted he brought his hand to hers, smiling to himself when she entwined their fingers and gave a soft sigh. They stayed just like that, Rick focusing on the slow pulse he could feel in her wrist.

"I was wondering," she began, her voice a little louder now. "The other day before Carl and I left…you said you had a surprise for me."

It took him a moment to figure out what she was referring to, casting his mind back to the day in question. The memory struck him as clearly as if it had just happened, and he recalled catching her hand as she went to go and help Rosemary. _"Hurry back,"_ _he requested._ _"I've got a surprise for you later."_ He'd been referring to the coffee he'd asked Olivia to make for her, an order he'd put in the moment he'd learned the community had a commercial coffee machine that was finally working. When Olivia confirmed she was bringing it out at the Father's Day party he'd asked her to make a drink Carrie wouldn't have enjoyed since before the outbreak.

"I did have a surprise for you," he confirmed.

"What was it?"

He paused, smiling at her even though she couldn't see. "I can't tell you. It wouldn't be a surprise."

She sighed through the darkness, reminding him of her claim that she didn't like surprises. "C'mon, tell me."

"I can't. You'll have to wait."

Making a small sound of disbelief, she sat up on her elbow. "Are you serious? You're going to make me wait?"

"What's the rush?"

There was a pause. "No rush."

"You're dying to know, aren't you."

"No," she said proudly. "I can wait."

"Then wait you shall."

Another pause. Apparently deciding to let him have his way she shook her head to herself, Rick able to make out the movements through the darkness which his eyes had adjusted to. A few more moments passed, Carrie still propped up on her elbow looking down at him, and then she did something pleasantly surprising. She sat up and removed the pillow between them, tossing it aside where it gave a light thump upon hitting the floor. With a long sigh she readjusted her other pillow and then moved closer towards the middle of the bed, laying down on her side with her back to him. He knew what she was doing, what she was both requesting and offering, but he waited for her to make herself clear before he moved in response.

"Come on," she said quietly, reaching back with her left hand to find his.

A small part of the heavy weight on his shoulders began to ease as he put his arm around her waist, gladly moving closer until he could hold her body against his. It was one of the greatest reliefs he'd felt all day, glad that he was able to hold her against him, that he could touch her. Though the fabric of the sweatshirt she wore was thick and heavy, the hood getting somewhat in the way, he had exactly what he wanted. His heart rate slowed as he settled and got comfortable again, pressing his face into the back of her neck and breathing deeply.

"Is this okay?" he asked, wanting to make sure.

A moment passed before she place her hand over his, moving his arm from the curve of her waist up to her ribs where it was more comfortable. She kept her hand on his, their fingers entwined as she held it to the front of her chest, though there wasn't a hint of sexual intention from either of them. Sex was the last thing on his mind right now, and with the heavy sweatshirt she wore it wasn't like he could feel much of her body in the first place. Carrie twisted her torso a little and kissed their entwined fingers, her lips lingering before she got comfortable again.

Silence fell once more, and this time Rick knew they were slipping away into the sleep they both needed. He could feel her chest rising and falling against his arm, the touch of her body against his reminding him that she had survived, that he didn't have to endure her loss. Finally he felt that he could sleep now, knowing that Michonne was with Carl and he was with Carrie, both comforted exactly as they needed to be.

* * *

A/N Hey readers, I really hope you enjoyed the chapter and that it delivered all you wanted from Rick and Carrie's first reunion! Thanks for the reviews, they're always so delightful to read!

And hot damn wasn't that finale great? I literally leapt up from my chair shouting "fucking Carol's back" when the Kingdomers came, and I was so thrilled that Rick has got his grove/attitude back.

I've been really lucky the last few days, have managed to churn out two new chapters for the sequel story. There final chapter for this story will be split into two. This is not an attempt to draw it the story out longer, I just haven't finished the ending and I'm not sure how much more I have to say. Many thanks to my beta reader Brent :-)


	57. Chapter 57

Carrie was groggy when she first awoke the next morning, something in her body telling her that she wasn't quite ready to rouse, that there were more hours of sleep for her to take. Despite this she opened her eyes, squinting at the sunlight that streamed through a gap in the drapes. The beam of light was directly over her eyes, indicating what had roused her prematurely, and she gave a soft grunt of frustration as she moved a little. Sleeping against her back Rick too gave a soft grunt in response, his arm around her ribs heavy now, almost to the point of discomfort.

Still groggy, Carrie closed her eyes and tried to get comfortable again, snuggling further back into Rick's embrace as she gently moved his arm down to her waist. Despite a small bruise on her side it was more comfortable here, the weight of his arm having become heavier the longer it rested on her ribs. In spite of everything that had happened to her, and her initial reluctance to receive his touch, the feeling of his body innocently pressed up against hers brought exactly the type of comfort she had been longing for. Even now with the distinct feeling of his erection pressed against her ass his touch wasn't bothersome, the feeling of his breath against the back of her neck as surprisingly pleasant as it had always been. He couldn't help his erection any more than he could help breathing, and even in her groggy state of mind she knew he wasn't trying anything, that he wasn't aroused. Just like she had been he was fast asleep, the slight rumble of a snore every now and then confirming this.

At some stage she had managed to fall back asleep, for she felt a jolt of confusion when she felt Rick's touch disappearing. Groaning softly she moved her hand over her face, rubbing her eyes as she rolled onto her back and looked for him, wishing he was still there behind her. She found him standing by the bed, securing the clasp of his watch around his wrist.

"Wha' time is it?" she mumbled, too sleepy to read the alarm clock.

"A little after eight," he replied, his voice heavy.

That was late for him. "Did you get much rest?"

"Yeah, I did," he nodded in gratitude.

When she looked at him properly she noted the pillow marks on the right side of his face, and she gave a small smile to see the way his hair was mussed up on one side. "Thanks for staying the night."

"Thanks for asking me to." With that he sat back down on the bed and took her hand, rubbing the back of her knuckles before raising it to his lips. "You should stay in…get some more sleep."

"I will," she agreed, her voice a low mumble as he placed her hand back down on the bed. She turned onto her other side and moved over to where he had been laying, the bed warm and the pillow smelling like him. Already her eyelids were drifting shut again, sleep calling to her.

"You'll come to see Carl later, won't you?"

Remembering her promise she nodded slowly. Feeling the darkness creeping back she closed her eyes, unable to even say goodbye to him. The last thing she heard was the sound of the door closing as he departed, and when she opened her eyes next it was late morning, though it felt like no time at all had passed. Noting the time on her alarm clock, almost ten o'clock in the morning, Carrie forced herself to keep her eyes open now, not wanting to spend the whole day in bed. Her head was heavy when she eventually sat up, her limbs lacklustre and sleepy as she slowly got to her feet. Feeling as if she were hungover she shuffled into her bathroom and turned on the tap, washing her face with cool water. She didn't like the way she felt upon waking after taking a sleeping pill, although she appreciated the benefit of being able to stay asleep for the whole night. Tonight she would avoid taking one if she could help it, suspecting that although Denise had given her another pill for the night, she'd prefer this too. There was only so long Carrie could depend on prescription medication to help her sleep, and eventually she would have to start going without.

Still feeling a little hungover she turned on the shower and got in, remembering too late that she ought to have covered up the splint. Though she kept it out of the way as much as she could it still got wet, and she knew she would have to get Denise to change it for her. Standing under the cool spray of water that awakened her, Carrie didn't bother washing her hair or anything, preferring instead to just let the water run through it. Though she'd gotten used to wearing a cast on her arm, like yesterday the practicalities of washing and drying herself were still frustrating. The splint was enough of a hindrance, let alone combined with the bandage around her middle and fourth finger of the same hand. Hopeful that today Denise would take that bandage off, Carrie clumsily secured her towel around her chest and exited her bathroom.

She was surprised to find that her bedroom door was wide open, though when she noted the small pile of clean laundry on her chair she figured that Carol had been in at some stage, likely checking on her as she slept the morning away. Rounding her bed she approached her door and began to close it for privacy, but she paused in the threshold. Though it was faint, she thought she could hear the sound of Judith babbling away downstairs, the kitchen sink filling with water as someone bustled around. It sounded all so very normal, and it was this that brought a small smile to Carrie's face. Normal was what she wanted today. Closing the door for privacy, she turned her attention to her windows next, and though she opted to keep her blinds closed, she pulled one back just enough to open the window.

Her heart swelled with happiness, for not only was it sunny outside, it was hot too. Not warm, not a pleasant breeze…hot. In that moment she remembered the searing New York summers, when the heat radiated up from the asphalt and businessmen sweated through their expensive suits as they rushed to the sanctuary of their air-conditioned offices. She'd always been a little precious back then, and if there was even a hint of the type of weather that would create unsightly pit stains in her Armani suit she would call for her driver to take her to work. But in the afternoons she would leave her things for her driver to collect, and she would change into her too expensive workout gear and jog the thirty or so blocks from Madison Avenue and forty third street back to her building on the upper west side. She had to jog through Central Park, and if she timed it right she often joined other jogging groups for part of her journey. Today with the beautiful heat that awaited her outside Carrie wanted to jog like she used to, like she had up until the last two days. It was with disappointment that she knew she wasn't up to it, that her legs were sore and her arm aching, but that didn't mean she couldn't enjoy the heat of the June day.

Yesterday she had wanted to protect herself, to cover up her body and hide any aspect that made her feel vulnerable. She didn't want to see her injuries, she wanted to hide from herself…she literally hadn't left the house. Today she felt differently, as if she was waking from a long hibernation, which in some ways she supposed she had. She wasn't ready to face many people in the community, regardless of their concern and well wishes, but she didn't want to hide either. Wanting to go outside, to feel the heat of the sun warming her skin, she chose her clothing accordingly. Yesterday she'd been short on options, forced to borrow Michonne's sweatshirt, but today she had an array of clothing suitable for her desire. She selected a tank top she knew was comfortable to wear, and then a pair of plain cotton shorts. Though she fumbled a little with the clasp on her bra, she dressed quickly and then critiqued her appearance in the full length mirror inside her closet. She was exposing her injuries today, the scrapes and bruises on her neck and arms readily apparent for all to see, as were those on her legs.

It was these injuries that made her reconsider her choice in shorts, wondering if she should choose some that were slightly longer. The inside of her thighs were sore and bruised, the colour having darkened since she had reluctantly inspected them yesterday. Like those on her neck these were readily apparent, their colour contrasted by the scrapes on her knees and one on her ankle. Could she go out like this? Could she expose her injuries for all to see? Uncertain of herself, she raised all of her blinds and then opened some windows, immediately feeling the warm breeze that swept into her bedroom. When she put her hand out into the sunlight she was immediately sure of her decision. Today she had two priorities. See Carl, and feel the sun on her skin…everything else be damned.

Satisfied with her decision, she bustled around her bedroom a little longer, cleaning her teeth as she made a half hearted effort to make her bed. When she finished up by running a brush through her hair she looked at herself in the mirror, feeling a little more confident now, ready to face the world again. Slipping her feet into some flip flops she headed downstairs slowly, trying to gauge ahead of time who was there and who wasn't. All the bedroom doors were open, so no one was sleeping following a night on watch, and a stream of light from the upper staircase indicated that Daryl had pulled his curtain aside, that he wasn't in either. Downstairs she could hear the sound of Judith happily babbling away, a sound Carrie hadn't heard since she had left Rick Sunday afternoon. Glad to see her, Carrie smiled as she came into the kitchen and found her sitting in the high chair, sighing happily as she scraped her hand inside a plastic mixing bowl and brought it to her mouth. The aroma of butter and cinnamon tempted Carrie further into the kitchen, and it was there she found Carol standing at the sink elbow deep in soapy water.

"Good morning," Carrie said, feeling a little awkward. Sometimes it still felt like this wasn't her home, that Pete had violated it too much to be hers any longer.

"Good afternoon," Carol teased, though not unkindly. Leaving the dishes she turned around and looked at her properly. If she noticed her different attire or the bruises on her body she didn't say anything. "You're going out today?" she enquired, ever perceptive.

Carrie nodded, glancing towards the front door which was open. The beautiful summer's day was just out there, easily within her reach. "Yeah, I am."

"Good," Carol nodded, drying her hands on a kitchen towel. "Are you hungry? I can make you something."

"I am, but you don't have to do that for me, I can-"

"I'll make you something."

"It's okay, I can-"

"Sit," she said sharply, gesturing to the stool on the other side of the island bench. "Coffee?"

She glanced at Judith, amused by the way she watched and listened to what Carol was doing. "Yes, please," she said gratefully, hesitating before actually taking her seat. Though in her former life she was well used to a house keeper who cooked and cleaned for her, these days it felt odd when someone fussed over her. But she knew that Carol wanted to take care of her. When it came to taking care of her people she expected them to allow her.

"I made quick bread," she Carol, taking their reconstituted butter and long life milk out of the refrigerator. "It's still warm. Would you like some?"

"Please."

"Butter?"

"Of course."

Carol smiled at her, satisfied with her answers. As she cut some slices Carrie took her seat at the bench near Judith, curiously peering into the large bowl she held. It had been nearly scraped clean, containing the raw mix that Carol had used to make the quick bread with, and it was clear Judith was having the time of her life. She was covered in mixture, her beautiful clothing a mess, mixture having dried along her arms and face.

"She's been a very unhappy little girl for the last two nights," Carol commented, passing Carrie her coffee and slice of bread. "So I figured we'll do some cooking and then go for a nice, long walk."

"She likes cooking?"

Carol nodded, cutting a slice into bite sized pieces before putting them onto a plastic plate. "She likes to think she's helping, even if she's only making mess."

Judith gasped in delight as Carol brought over her plate of bread, her eyes alight with happiness as she prepared to toss the plastic bowl over the edge of her high chair tray.

"Don't throw it," Carol said sternly, pointing to the bowl. "No…give it me."

Looking at her warily, Judith slowly complied and handed over the bowl she no longer wanted. She beamed in delight as Carol set the plate of bread down in front of her, her hand poised as she carefully selected her first piece. Finally she picked one up and slowly brought it to her mouth, her eyes closing in quiet rapture as she began to eat. With a long sigh she sat back in her high chair as she chewed, immensely satisfied.

The three of them ate in quiet silence, most of their attention focused on Judith who methodically ploughed through her food. Carrie on the other hand ate a little slower, conscious of the fact that she hadn't eaten much the day before. It felt good to eat again, to start taking care of her body with something so mundane as eating breakfast. As she ate she looked out the kitchen window a part of her expected the sunshine to disappear, the warmth to turn into winter winds. She felt a little nervous, part of her insisting that she needed to get outside before it was too late, while another part of her told her to be patient, to wait.

"Where is everyone?" she asked, watching as Judith ate her final piece of quick bread.

"Rick's at the Infirmary, Michonne and Daryl are both on watch," Carol answered. Noticing that Judith was almost finished, she turned to the sink in the island bench and put the plug into the drain. Turning on the tap she began filling it with warm water, casting a critical eye over Judith's soiled clothing and messy face. "Are you going to see him today?"

There was no need to clarify. "Yes," she confirmed, though already she felt the awful pang of nerves, the weaker part of her already seeking an excuse not to visit Carl. "Maybe this afternoon. First I want to…"

"To have some space?"

Carrie nodded, surprised that Carol understood so readily. She turned to her left and looked out the living room window, where she could just make out the western watch point. "I was thinking I might take watch for a little while."

Again Carol understood immediately, and she nodded in agreement. "It's Shelly on the west post. I'm sure she won't mind being relieved an hour early."

"You don't think Sasha will mind the change?"

"I doubt it. We all know having Shelly on watch is really more of a formality than a necessity."

Promptly tending to her needs, Carol removed Judith from the high chair and settled her onto the kitchen bench, giving her a quick wipe down before undressing her. A quick check of her diaper gave Carol the all clear to remove it, and when she picked Judith up and settled her into the kitchen sink that was filled with fresh warm water she beamed in happiness, kicking her legs and splashing already.

"No touching," Carol told her firmly, drawing her attention to the tap.

Judith looked up at her very seriously, a slight mumble that echoed the inflexion giving an indication that she had understood to the best of her ability. Her attention quickly diverted she happily began trailing her hands through the water, capturing it in her palms and watching as it ran down her arms.

"Could you watch her for just a minute," Carol requested, not waiting for Carrie's agreement before disappearing.

Had it been three months ago the thought of watching a baby for even just a minute would have filled her with nerves, but not anymore. Carrie sipped her coffee and kept her eye on Judith in the sink, watching as she happily played in the water and amused herself. She was alert and ready for any indication that she was going to touch the tap and burn herself with hot water, or for movement that indicated she wanted to stand up. Behaving herself admirably for a one year old, Judith glanced up at her occasionally, but was otherwise unconcerned about where Carol had gone. Moments later she returned, bearing a bottle of baby shampoo, a towel and wash cloth.

"You've completely trashed yourself, haven't you," she cooed at Judith, wetting her hair before rubbing some shampoo into it. "Just you wait until I tell Daddy."

"Daydee?" Judith said in curiosity. She turned around and looked at the front door, the hope in her eyes fading when she saw no one was there.

"He'll be home later. He'll read to you and put you to bed tonight."

Judith turned around quickly, her eyes wide with alarm as she looked up at Carol.

"Not yet," she hastily assured her, cleaning the quick bread mixture off her face. "Later. He'll come later."

Clearly relieved she wasn't being put to bed immediately, Judith relaxed and then continued playing with the water, tolerating Carol as she quickly got her cleaned up. Carrie watched on in amusement, always forgetting to give Judith the credit she deserved. She remembered something Daryl had told her months ago, that her inability to talk didn't mean she was dumb, that she didn't understand. Judith understood that Rick was coming home later, that he would read to her like he normally did at bed time, and she was pleased by the news.

Finishing her coffee, Carrie turned and looked over her shoulder again, relieved to see that the sun was still shining, that the day outside was still hot. Feeling ready for it, she got to her feet and began clearing the plates, stacking them in the dishwasher before washing her hands in the other sink.

"Thanks for the breakfast," she said sincerely. "I appreciate it…everything."

"I know you do," Carol nodded sincerely. "You sure you don't want company?"

"I'm sure, thank you," she said, heading for the cabinet and gun safe at the front door. "I'll just be on the west post, I'll be done by midday."

"Have fun," Carol farewelled her, Judith calling out goodbye rather enthusiastically.

Feeling good about her plans, Carrie entered the combination into the lock and opened the safe. She could already feel the warmth that awaited her outside, could anticipate the pleasant heat of the sun on her skin, but her good mood faded very quickly. Her heart sank as she looked into the gun safe and found it empty except for Carol's, an awful feeling developing in the pit of her stomach. She didn't have her gun on her Sunday afternoon when Pete had attacked, having no way of securing the holster to her leg while she was wearing a dress. It had been left at Jessie's house, securely stored in her gun safe. Whoever had cleared Carrie's belongings out of the guest bedroom had neglected to check the safe, meaning that the Ruger she had become so familiar with was still there.

Carrie swore under her breath, wondering what on earth she was going to do. She couldn't go into Jessie's home, not after beating her husband to death with a crossbow, regardless of the circumstances. She glanced down the hallway towards the garage, knowing that there were two gun safes abundant in weapons she would be able to use, but she couldn't bear the thought of going back in there. Not yet, anyway. That had been where Pete assaulted her, where he put his hand on her breasts, on her thighs…she had been back inside the garage once already, but she wasn't prepared to go back in again for some time.

"Carol," Carrie began slowly, going back into the kitchen. "My gun. It's at Jessie's house."

Rinsing the shampoo out of Judith's hair, Carol looked up at her with a frown before realisation struck her. "Oh," she said, raising her eyebrows to acknowledge the awkwardness of the situation. A moment passed, and she filled a cup with water before tipping it over Judith's head one last time. "Stay here and watch her for me. I'll get it for you."

Thanking her gratefully, Carrie returned to the kitchen and took Carol's place while she simply dried her hands and departed without fuss. Her heart aching with sadness, Carrie focused her attention on Judith, who seemed completely unconcerned by Carol's sudden departure. She tried not to think about Jessie, about the grief and mourning she was going through right now. It didn't matter what Pete had done to anyone, he was her husband, she still loved him…and her best friend had killed him.

Trying to focus on Judith, she smiled as she watched her playing and splashing about in the water, and a minute passed before she grew tired of it. Peering into the bottom of the sink Judith wriggled around until she could see the plug, and with a shout of triumph she removed it from the drain and handed it to Carrie. Having indicated that she was done Judith began getting to her feet, her haste of which made Carrie panic a little, wondering how she was going to handle this. Putting her good hand under Judith's arm she kept a hold of her in case she slipped, and then reached out with her bad hand towards the towel Carol had brought out. Picking it up with her finger and thumb she breathed a sigh of relief when she brought it back over, ready to engulf Judith before she got cold.

Standing there in the sink gloriously naked, Judith watched the water disappearing down the drain between her feet, beaming with delight when it gurgled as the last dregs went down. She turned to Carrie now and reached out, and Carrie took this as her cue for the towel. Doing her best with her bad hand, she engulfed Judith in the towel and then clumsily managed to bring her against her chest. Perfectly happy in her arms, Judith rested her wet elbow on Carrie's shoulder and looked around, perhaps wondering what was next, if she would be redressed or allowed to run around in the nude like she occasionally did. Saying something incomprehensible she turned to Carrie with a cheerful smile, babbling at her again and again until she replied.

It felt stupid to echo Judith's babbling, but judging by her reaction it was clearly the right move. Her big blue eyes widened, her beaming smile revealing her perfect tiny teeth before she started babbling again. As if they were having a real conversation Judith babbled and then paused, waiting for Carrie to respond before starting again, her smile relieving the ache in Carrie's chest. She forgot all about Jessie, she forgot all about what Pete had done to her and Carl…she had no idea Judith could make her feel so good. But even as happiness welled up inside of her, so too did another emotion, the type that made her a little scared. She barely knew this little girl, not in the way she wanted to anyway…but she loved her already.

Readjusting the way she held her, Carrie brought her closer and pressed a kiss against her soft cheek. Judith laughed and then returned the gesture, though the kiss Carrie received was with a wide open mouth and excess saliva. Wiping her wet cheek on the towel she thanked her, clumsily readjusting the way she held her as her right hand began to ache a little. As if understanding what she was doing Judith happily cooperated, still resting her wet elbow on Carrie's shoulder as she was readjusted. A few moments passed in comfortable silence, Carrie marvelling over how wonderful it felt holding the little girl in her arms. Her skin was like porcelain, soft and squishy in all the right places, and despite her bath she still smelt faintly of cinnamon and raisins, a heady combination. Suddenly Judith giggled, a spark of mischievousness appearing in her eyes.

"What?" Carrie asked her suspiciously.

"She's probably peeing on you," Carol said, her explanation announcing her return home.

"Huh?" Carrie frowned, looking down. Unable to hold Judith away from her, she was forced to keep her against her chest even as she did indeed begin to feel a flood of warmth down her front. "Ugh."

Judith burst into laughter now, her cheeks reddening in mirth as she revelled in what she had done, however unintentional it likely was. As Carrie groaned in mild annoyance Carol came to her aid, she too laughing at her expense as she took Judith from her.

"I should have warned you she'd probably do that after a bath. It's her new favourite trick," she chuckled, looking at Judith affectionately. "You peed on Uncle Glenn last night, didn't you? You got him so good."

"I hope it means she likes me, right?" Carrie asked dryly, peeling the damp fabric of her tank top away from her skin.

"Unfortunately, she does not discriminate who she pees on," Carol answered, already heading towards the hallway to go upstairs. "I put your gun in the safe for you."

"Thank you," she said, grateful that she didn't have to face Jessie. Neither of them were ready for that, and possibly wouldn't be for quite some time.

While Carol disappeared into the master bedroom to get Judith dressed, Carrie slipped back into her own to clean herself up, only mildly annoyed by Judith peeing on her. She'd certainly endured far worse bodily fluids than a little urine, and thankfully the towel had absorbed the worst of it. In no time at all she had cleaned up and changed her shirt, rolling the soiled one up in order to take it to the laundry. As she left her room and headed for the stairs Judith appeared to make a break for freedom, bursting out into the hallway stark naked while Carol was selecting her clothes.

"Judith Grimes, you get your butt back in here!"

She shrieked in delight, grinning at Carrie as she tried to follow her down the stairs, her face falling when she was thwarted by the safety gate she couldn't yet figure out. Grabbing at the rails she shook them playfully, shouting and squealing as Carrie waved goodbye to her. Downstairs she tossed her soiled shirt into the laundry basket and then returned to the kitchen, finding an empty water bottle and filling it at the sink. Feeling a little apprehensive again she returned to the safe and opened it again, glad to find her gun there just as promised.

Fumbling with the straps she managed to secure it around her leg as normal, clipping it into place and tightening the strap to reduce its movement. For a moment she held her Ruger in her hands, admiring its two toned finish as she ejected the magazine and counted the rounds. She clumsily pulled back the slide to ensure the chamber was clear, and only then did she return the magazine and clip it into place. Satisfied that she was safely armed she slipped it into the holster, the familiar click of the locking mechanism bring an immense comfort. The weight of it against her leg felt right, as if a part of her had been missing which she supposed in this case it had been.

Bracing herself, she opened the front door and stepped outside, her feet moving her into the sunlight before she lingered there on the porch. Looking around she gauged who was out and about in the community, glad to see that there was no activity on the street or in the gardens. Grateful for this she stepped off the porch and into the full sunshine outside, taking a moment to feel the heat of the sun on her skin. She allowed her eyes to drift shut, immediately feeling better as she breathed in the fresh air, the heat of the sun warming her exposed skin. Her choice of a tank top and shorts had been the right one, of that she was certain.

She opened her eyes as she started off in the direction she sought, her feet carrying her towards the abundant gardens. It was relaxing to wander through the perfect rows of garden beds and planter boxes, the smell of chicken manure and soil reminding her of Rick, of the way he smelt after spending his free time in the gardens checking the soil, removing troublesome weeds before unearthing an enormous potato. As she walked through the rows and looked at the plants, many of whom she struggled to identify, she hoped that he would be able to find the time to come out here in the coming weeks and months. For the most part the majority of his free time would be devoted to Carl, his presence and their relationship crucial to how he coped with his life changing injury. She just hoped that Rick would be able to find some time for himself, that he would give both he and his son the space from one another they would eventually find themselves needing. The garden was Rick's stress relief just as much as jogging was for her.

Looking up at the west post, she was unsurprised to find that Shelly had her nose buried in a book, her iPod and earphones in as she struggled to pass the time during the boring task of taking watch. Carol was right, having Shelly taking watch was really more of a formality, their way of making her be involved with protecting the community regardless of how useful she actually was. Carrie tried not to hold her complacency against her, knowing that even after everything that had happened with these Wolves over the last month or so, Shelly still didn't truly understand. It didn't matter though, for if someone like Daryl and Michonne were on watch they would be checking in with her via the radios, keeping her alert as they asked for updates.

Bracing herself for the interaction Carrie made her way over to the west post, calling out to Shelly when she got nearer. The music from her iPod must have been low for she looked up straight away, her hand drifting to the radio that sat on the bench in front of her, but when Carrie called out again she turned around. Shelly's mouth gaped upon laying eyes on Carrie, too slow to hide the shock she felt upon seeing her, though she at least tried. Yanking the earphones out she closed her book and stood up, a tentative smile appearing on her face.

"Carrie," she said in awe, standing at the railing and looking down at her. "Oh my…I'm so glad to see you. We've been so worried about you, we all have."

A little embarrassed, though she had been expecting this type of reaction, Carrie just nodded.

"We would have come to see you, all of us would have," Shelly explained apologetically, brushing her loose curls behind her ear as she peered down. "It's just that Carol asked us not to, asked us not even to bring flowers."

"Don't be sorry, it's alright."

There was a brief pause, and then Shelly continued. "She asked us to give you some space, even Anna. I know you two were close for a little while. She was beside herself when she heard, we all were."

Carrie nodded, though the former statement wasn't one hundred percent true. She'd become close to Anna a while back, but only for a little while as she helped prepare her to start going outside the walls, to check the safe houses and become experienced with Walkers. After the deaths of Aidan and Noah, Carrie had been put out of commission, with Glenn and Sasha taking over her role of supporting Anna.

"D-do you need something Carrie?" Shelly asked kindly. "You can tell me, whatever you need."

Carrie blushed a little, realising more silence had passed than she realised. "Actually, I was hoping I could relieve you from watch a little early."

Taken by surprise, Shelly raised her eyebrows. "You're taking watch today?"

"Not… _technically_ ," she admitted. "Someone will take over from me at midday. I was just hoping I could relieve you early."

"You want to?"

"Yeah."

There was a long pause, Shelly considering her request as she glanced up at the second house. "Have you talked to Sasha? Does she know we'll be swapping?"

"No, but-"

"It's just she gets a little…you know. She's been pretty on edge since it all happened."

"She won't mind," Carrie assured her, confident of this.

Still Shelly hesitated, uncomfortable with the unapproved change of plans. "Carrie, it's just that…you can't use the rifle. Your hand."

Having expected this, Carrie nodded in agreement and then gave a knowing smile. "Let's be honest with ourselves, Shelly. Neither can you."

A smile of her own crossed Shelly's face, and she nodded in reluctant agreement. "Alright, I have to give you that much," she chuckled. "Okay, then. If you _want_ to take over, you can."

Thanking her gratefully, Carrie tucked her bottle of water under her bad arm and then cautiously climbed the ladder, taking it slowly lest she lose her balance. As she reached the platform she gripped the safety rail before standing up, not entirely trusting herself. Shelly was right, she definitely couldn't use a rifle right now, and she questioned whether or not she could even lift it in the first place. Her first intention had been to look over the sides of the walls, to reacquaint herself with the world around her, but she turned around when she heard a small gasp. Her heart sank when she realised that Shelly was looking at her in sadness, her eyes roaming over the bruises on her neck and then down to those on her thighs. Though she knew she would be exposing her injuries to the view of others, she'd been more concerned about feeling the sun warming her skin, but Shelly's reaction put a damper on the choice she made.

Shelly looked at her in sympathy, her sadness for what had happened to her genuine. To the community who didn't know the intricate details of Pete's grudge against Rick, his sudden and apparently unprovoked attack on she and Carl had shaken them. Judging by Shelly's aghast expression, she hadn't been exaggerating when she said she and the others were beside themselves with worry. Despite the genuine sadness and concern for her wellbeing, Carrie couldn't help but feel some kind of grim satisfaction, as if she wanted to gloat that Rick had been right all along. Though things had settled down after he publicly forgave Carter for his attempted coup, his handling of the situation with Pete and Jessie had brought a great deal of gossip and mistrust upon himself again.

Some felt he was being too harsh with the way he locked Pete in the Infirmary at night, that having him under constant guard was over kill. Given what had happened, a part of Carrie wanted to gloat that Rick was right, that the people should have trusted him all along. Standing there under Shelly's gaze she wasn't embarrassed or upset, but rather she was glad they could see what had happened to her. She boldly hoped Shelly would rush off and tell everyone, that gossip would spread while everyone would start to understand what Rick had been trying to prevent.

"Do you need anything?" Shelly asked her again, clearing her throat as she quickly averted her eyes. "I could leave you my book, or my iPod?"

Carrie shook her head politely. "No thanks," she answered, casting her eyes out over the world on the other side of Alexandria's walls. "I think I'll just enjoy the view."

Below them an impaled Walker gave a particularly ferocious growl, the volume of which echoed around the clearing and up to them on the post. She and Shelly laughed quietly, the awkwardness subsiding as Shelly made her way over to the ladder.

"In that case, enjoy your view," she said kindly.

As Shelly descended the ladder and then departed with a polite wave, Carrie closed her eyes and enjoyed the solitude for a few moments. This was exactly what she wanted, the peace and quiet of being alone on watch, and the heat of the sun warming her skin. Reacquainting herself with the responsibility of taking watch, she picked up the binoculars and took a look around, scanning the environment for Walkers and Wolves before setting them back down on the small ledge on the wall. She had just taken a seat on the stool when the radio in front of her sounded, the sound of Daryl's husky voice filling her with warmth. She hadn't seen him at all since he had fled the aftermath of Pete's attack, leaving her sitting on the stairs covered in blood as Carol calmed her down.

"Shelly, check in for the quarter hour."

Carrie smiled as she picked up the radio and responded. "Good morning, Daryl."

There was a brief pause, Carrie imagining the confusion and surprise that would be crossing his face right about now. "That you, Blondie?"

"Yes."

"What happened t' Shelly?"

"I got sick of her, so I threw her over the walls," she joked, having unkindly imagined such extreme measures to deal with Shelly's annoying habits.

"Mmm, 'bout time I reckon."

Carrie laughed unkindly, a small part of her concerned about who else was on watch that might be listening to what she said over the radios. "I asked her if I could take over for a little while. I wanted to be up here, that's all."

"Yeah, alright then," he grunted. "Saves me havin' to check she ain't fallen asleep on the job."

"I can't make any promises."

There was another pause, and then came the question she dreaded. "You been to see Carl yet?"

Her stomach burned with guilt, for the amount of times she had been asked indicated the expectation that she already had visited. She knew she was perfectly justified in her need to be alone, certainly she'd been in no shape yesterday to see anyone, let alone Carl. But the constant enquiry from her family who had only good intentions made the guilt in the back of her mind grow larger. Maybe she should have gone to see him first thing that morning, as soon as she'd finished breakfast. Was she being selfish by taking watch before going to see him? Was she going to keep stalling?

"Yeah, me either," Daryl remarked, taking her silence as a negative answer. "Only Rick and 'Chonne for now," he added as if trying to justify his own absence.

"I'm going after I finish watch," she told him, giving herself a deadline to which she was accountable. "You want to come with me?"

"Nuh," he replied immediately, his tone abrupt. "I got double shift on 'ere."

"Okay."

"I, err…I wanna be up here too," he said uncomfortably, echoing what she had said earlier.

Feeling sad, Carrie acknowledged to herself that she understood what Daryl was feeling. It was confronting to feel so helpless in a life and death situation, and that had to have been how he felt when he walked into the horrific scene on Sunday afternoon. The only thing he had been able to do was fire a single bolt at Pete to save Carrie's life, but as for Carl there was nothing he could do to protect him. She still remembered the anguished moan Daryl gave as he sank to his knees beside him, his devastation upon finding the person who was like his own brother so critically injured. She didn't blame him for fleeing the aftermath when it became too much for him, she didn't blame him for getting rip roaring drunk and passing out in Rosemary's strawberry patch. In fact, from the sound of it he had a better time than anyone did.

"Hey, Daryl," she started gently, unsure of whether or not it was a good idea to bring this up. "I'm sorry about your crossbow…about how I broke it."

As she expected there was a short pause, Daryl no doubt replaying what she had done to Pete, how she had used his beloved crossbow to beat him to death.

"Don't be sorry," he finally said. "Tha' was the best fucking thing I've seen since Eugene fell off the porch and broke his ass."

A burst of laughter escaped her lips before she corrected him. "It was his tailbone, and it was only bruised."

"Nuh. He broke his ass, that's what we tell people."

Enjoying herself immensely, it was with disappointment that she agreed when Daryl called for them to return to radio silence. Feeling infinitely better about things now, Carrie's heart was a little more at ease as she set the radio down and turned her attention to the world outside. The Walker on the spike was still growling, his arms flailing around as it looked up at her with insatiable hunger. Vigilant, she picked up the binoculars and scanned the woods every few minutes, taking her time to properly look rather than just cast her eyes over. As she kept watch she occasionally looked over her shoulder at the community behind her, uncomfortably aware of what could go on right beneath the noses of those on watch.

So focused on protecting themselves from the world outside, those on watch last Sunday hadn't noticed Pete stalking she and Carl into their home. She presently sat where Abraham had been that day, while Daryl had been on the north post. The blame for what happened didn't lie with them, they did their jobs by protecting the community from the world outside, but she knew they would be harbouring unjustified remorse. They would blame themselves for what happened, for the fact that Pete managed to attack her and shoot Carl before the problem actually came to their attention. As these thoughts occurred to her, Carrie couldn't help but wonder who had been in charge of supervising Pete that fateful day, if one person had been responsible, or the group was collectively responsible. More focused on the day's plans involving Sam and Jessie, her concern hadn't been for supervising Pete. It seemed incredible that he managed to slip away and go unnoticed for so long.

With the privacy afforded to her by being on watch, Carrie allowed herself to start thinking back to the attack, working through a few things that had been on her mind. Pete had said a lot of things to her, things that didn't make sense at first before she realised he was taking revenge on Rick, that he was trying to take away the people he loved just like Rick had done to him. But that wasn't all he had said to her, and it wasn't even what he said to Carl about Lori that was on her mind right now.

 _He came to me in the middle of the night…the whole group. They tied me up, said they were going to choke me to death and then dump my body with the Roamers in the sewer._

At some stage Rick had threatened Pete, most likely after the incident with Carl and Judith in which he had tried to draw her blood. That must have been the final straw for him, the one incident that took him precariously close to finally dealing with the problem the way he wanted to. The only thing that had been holding him back was Maggie, whose high blood pressure and family history of pre-eclampsia made her pregnancy high risk. Threatening Pete was the only thing Rick was able to do without actually harming him, and in Carrie's opinion it wan't unjustified.

So why had he felt the need to lie to her?

Last week Rick had told her that he and Pete had talked, that they'd reached an agreement to stay out of one another's way. While in one respect he hadn't lied to her, he hadn't told her the truth either. He'd led her to believe that they'd had a civil conversation, that their agreement was reached mutually, not that Rick had attacked him and threatened his life. She felt frustrated with him, not understanding why he simply didn't tell her the whole truth, that he's confronted Pete and threatened him to comply. Nevertheless, she didn't feel it fair to hold this indiscretion against Rick. Pete acted because he wanted to, anger and resentment driving him to violently take revenge. There was no direct cause between Rick's lie to her and what happened next. His truthfulness in the matter would not have prevented anything.

Dwelling on things, she felt a small flicker of happiness as she thought about Rick some more, glad that he had come to spend the night with her. At first she'd been startled to find him in her bedroom, his unexpected presence making her feel uncomfortable and on edge, but this had passed quickly. What happened had to be confronted, and before she knew it they were comforting one another, giving and receiving what they so desperately needed in that moment. She was conscious of the need she felt to have her own space, to reclaim her body as one that belonged only to her, and not being touched was part of that process. But despite that she found herself slowly seeking his touch, tentatively accepting and becoming grateful for it. They both needed comfort from the other, and they were willing to give it too, this understanding perhaps being what drove her to ask him to stay the night.

The pillow that lay between them had acted as a barrier, one that would protect her from his innocent touch while she was sleeping vulnerably. She knew it was stupid, that Rick loved her, his touch motivated only by that, but a part of her was still afraid, though only at first. After a long while of laying there in the darkness wide awake they started talking, Carrie enquiring as to what her intended surprise had been. It was his voice that helped her relax, the ease of conversation helping her let down her guard. Almost as if remembering what they were to one another, she felt herself yearning for him, longing to feel his body against hers, but on her own terms only. He seemed grateful for her invitation to hold her, perhaps as grateful as she was. Feeling him pressed up against her back with his arm around her chest made her feel safe, the closeness reminding her of times on the road when she and Shannon used to sleep together like that. Like she had protected Shannon, it felt like Rick was protecting her, and she needed to feel that sense of safety.

"Yoohoo…Carrie."

Hearing her name being called and not recognising the voice as someone in her immediate family, Carrie couldn't help but cringe just a little. She knew that coming outside the take watch and enjoy the sun would mean she might have to interact with other residents, that they would want to talk to her and see how she was. She just wished they wouldn't, preferring instead to sit in her own silent company. Nevertheless she turned around and looked over the edge of the platform, somewhat relieved to see that it was only Olivia. Though managing the Pantry meant that she was privy to a wide array of gossip, she wasn't one for much chatter about it, and they had worked together a fair bit throughout the last three months here in Alexandria.

"Hey 'Livie," she replied, using her nickname. "How you doing?"

"Oh, you know," she sighed, pushing her wire framed glasses further up her nose. "The Pantry's out of vinegar, the freezer's on the fritz and there's a mouse in the dry goods. I'm swell."

"What are you using in your traps?"

"A marshmallow…apparently they like sweet things. But it keeps stealing the marshmallow without being caught."

"You should try peanut butter," she suggested, remembering the mouse traps she had found last summer in the basement stockpile belonging to a couponer. "It's sweet, but too sticky for them to steal without getting caught."

Olivia looked at her in surprise, pushing her glasses up her nose again. "Huh…peanut butter. Thank you."

"No problem."

There was an awkward pause now, one Carrie had seen coming but was unable to avoid. Olivia stood at the foot of the ladder, her head tilted to the side as though she was thinking about the problem mouse, imagining the satisfaction of finally ridding the Pantry of its nuisance. Wondering how long Olivia intended to unintentionally intrude, she sought to hasten their interaction along.

"Is the pantry low on anything else?" she asked, thinking about the vinegar and the dying freezer. Yesterday she'd overheard that Glenn, Tara and Heath were planning a supply run to look for medical supplies, that they were leaving the next morning…they ought to be looking for food supplies too.

The questioned seemed to snap Olivia out of her thoughts, and she quickly shook her head. "Don't you worry about supply runs," she scolded her, coming towards the ladder and climbing the bottom rung. "I brought you something."

Getting up from the stool, Carrie set the binoculars on the wall's ledge and knelt to her knees by the ladder, feeling glad when she saw Olivia was holding up a travel mug. "Thank you," she said as she gratefully took it. "They've got you doing the coffee run, huh?"

She shook her head. "No, I only made coffee for you."

"Well, thank you," she said sincerely, feeling the warmth of the mug. It wasn't necessary on a hot day, but she wasn't going to complain about a free drink.

"It's not from me."

Carrie quirked her eyebrow and looked at Olivia. "Who's it from?"

"Rick. I think it was meant to be a surprise on Sunday."

Carrie's heart seemed to skip a beat, her breath catching in her throat as she looked at the mug. Both joy and confusion bloomed inside of her, joy for the fact that Rick had thought enough of her to arrange a surprise, but confused that it was a cup of coffee. She could make her own coffee any time she liked, what was so special about it coming from him?

"He's surprising me with a cup of coffee?"

Olivia shook her head. "No, a very specific cup of coffee. The type that he repeated three times and then wrote down, and then repeated again. The type that's costing him a jar of strawberry jelly and the first tomato on the vine."

Increasingly confused, Carrie set the mug down onto the floor of the platform and unscrewed the lid, going carefully so that she didn't spill anything onto her splint. When she removed the lid and looked at the thick and creamy brown liquid, her heart really did feel like it skipped a beat. This wasn't any coffee, this was _her_ coffee. This was the coffee that got her through years of college, internships and sixty hour work weeks. The formula hadn't changed since it was perfected in her freshman year, and was one that had the tendency to annoy a barista, though she always tipped generously.

"Skinny mocha, extra hot, extra espresso, add vanilla, no foam," Olivia recited proudly.

Under her breath Carrie recited the final instructions she would give when placing her order. "Absolutely no foam, and stir it properly - I'll know if you haven't."

"It's right, isn't' it?" Olivia asked in concern. "He'll kill me if its wrong, himself too."

"It's perfect," she assured her, glancing away as she felt her eyes becoming wet. She wasn't going to cry, not over coffee, but damn she was close. How had Rick remembered this? She'd never made this coffee in Alexandria, she'd never mentioned it except for four months ago on the Georgia supply run. They barely knew each other back then, and yet he was paying attention.

"I wasn't allowed to draw love hearts and kisses on the lid, but you can pretend they're there," Olivia joked. "Will you try it?"

Thanking her, Carrie brought the mug to her lips and tentatively took a sip. It wasn't the same as she remembered, then again little from the old world really was, but it tasted heavenly. The coffee was strong, the chocolate and vanilla making it taste thick and creamy just the way she liked it. It was perfectly hot too, the heat and flavour making her open her eyes as she felt a familiar buzz. Her colleagues used to joke that this coffee was her like a drug to her, that she wasn't worth talking to until she had a coffee in her hand, and they weren't exactly wrong. She was rather a bitch in the old days, but slightly less so post-coffee.

"Thank you Olivia, it's perfect."

She breathed a visible sigh of relief, glad she had been successful. "I'm glad…it seemed so important to him."

"You can go get the first tomato. You earned it."

Olivia just smiled and raised her hand in farewell as she departed, her job complete. Left alone again, Carrie tried to restrain the giddy smile that had erupted on her face, screwing the lid back on the cup before resuming her position on watch. She raised the binoculars and looked around, scolding herself for not paying attention for the last few minutes - anything could have happened while her attention lapsed. Nevertheless things were alright, the Walker on the spike having quietened a little, while everything else was still. Setting the binoculars down she resumed her seat on the stool, picked up her coffee and then brought her feet up to rest on the ledge.

In the old days her coffee would have been consumed in incremental sips throughout the morning, but today she was content to drink it straight away. She relished the flavours that lingered in her mouth, reminding herself to brush her teeth later…she'd always been paranoid about sugar and tooth decay, but particularly so these days. But for now she was content to relax, her eyes cast over the outside world as the time sadly began approaching midday. Happy where she was, she hoped that whoever was taking over for her was late, that she would get to be up here just a little longer. But even as she hoped for this, another part of her was keen to be done with the task. For the first time she genuinely wanted to go and see Carl, her fears about facing reality beginning to fade a little. She'd been afraid of seeing him so horrifically injured, but she owed it to him to go. He'd risked his life to save her, they'd survived this together.

With her feet propped up on the ledge and the coffee between her knees, Carrie looked down at her thighs, scrutinising them. The sun was warming the exposed bruises, the tender skin that hadn't seen sun for so many months now feeling hot to the touch. Carl had stayed in order to protect her, fearing that Pete's assault would escalate to something she might never recover from. As much as Daryl had saved her from death, Carl had saved her too.

Now that it was over, that she had the benefit of hindsight and a clear head, Carrie doubted that Pete would have raped her. His attack didn't feel sexually motivated, though raping Rick's girlfriend would have fulfilled his desire to take revenge. Despite this, Carrie got the feeling that Pete's assault on her body had only been intended to intimidate her into cooperation, to frighten Carl enough that he'd bring Rick there. That's what Pete wanted…he wanted Rick there, for him to see the power he had. It wasn't about her at all, it was about hurting Rick. Still, this understanding didn't change the terror she had felt, the way bile still rose in her throat when she thought about his hands on her body, the rough way he groped and intimidated her.

Time slowly passed, Carrie distracted from her thoughts and task only by the sound of Judith's voice. As the time approached midday she and Carol left the house, her little legs running as fast as she could up the road towards the intersection. She stopped intermittently to look around, to make sure that Carol was still following her, and when she caught up she would take off running again. As she watched them go Carrie wondered if they were going to see Carl, but when they reached the intersection they turned right and headed towards Natalie and Bob's house instead. Looking the other way, Carrie noticed Bob sitting on his back porch, a glass of iced tea in his hand as he fondly looked over the gardens. The small vegetable patch he and Natalie had tended to since they had moved to Alexandria before the outbreak had sustained the community only so long as they had a full Pantry, but now? With Rick and Maggie's help, and the plants from the prison in Georgia the gardens and field were abundant with fresh produce, a concrete slab having already been laid for large greenhouse.

Carrie watched over her shoulder as Judith suddenly appeared on Bob and Natalie's back porch, greeting them with her cheerful smile as she wandered over to the coffee table. She peered at the large jug of iced tea and then reached for a cookie, jumping a little when Bob scolded her. Her lips parted in anticipation, she looked up at him eagerly and then said something, the smile that crossed her face indicating that it had been the right thing. She reached out and chose a cookie, and a few moments later she was happily perched on Natalie's lap, offering her a bite.

From afar Carrie watched her for a moment, beginning to feel a little sad. Before the attack everything had been so perfect, the future laid out for them ready to take. Now their plans had to change, her and Rick's relationship had to take second priority, and that was a bitter pill to swallow. There was no doubt in her mind that Carl's entire life was now on hold, the happy and content teen whose company she had enjoyed two days ago gone now.

Trying to return her concentration to the world outside the walls, Carrie glanced down at her watch, eagerly watching it creep closer and closer to the end of her shit. She needed to go to Carl, she owed it to him to face his injury and acknowledge what protecting her had cost him. He deserved her deepest gratitude, for even as she lamented the fact that he refused to run and save himself, she was grateful that he had tried to help her.

Still struggling to concentrate on her task, Carrie wiped at her wet eyes and cleared her throat, taking advantage of her brief solitude to let it all out. From here on out she needed to be strong, to keep her shit together. Carl would need to lean on his father in the coming months, and in turn Rick too would need someone to lean on. Carrie wanted that person to be him, she wanted to be by his side doing whatever she could, even if she had already come to the understanding that she couldn't change what had happened to them.

Letting the tears fall for just a little while, Carrie watched the world go by outside the walls, still wondering how for a brief time it became safer outside than in.

* * *

A/N Thanks readers and reviews, that was the penultimate chapter of this massive story!

The next chapter will of course be the final for this story, but should also feature a snippet of the first chapter of The Larger World, the sequel to this and my third story overall! You'll be introduced to a brand spanking new OFC, one who has slowly come together piece by piece much like Carrie did.

Pending my opportunities to finish the final chapter and refine Chapter 1 of TLW, tune in late next week for the next instalment, and of course please don't forget to leave a review of Chapter 57! Many thanks to all.


	58. Chapter 58

A/N

Chapter re-uploaded with the hope that chapter alerts have been fixed - apologies to anyone who didn't get the chapter alert when I uploaded last week.

My first instinct is to apologise for the delay - I hate letting more than 1-2 weeks elapse between chapters - but in this case it was essential! The final chapter you're about to read is 'just right', and it took the time it had to take in order to get there. Looking back at where the chapter was two weeks ago I cannot believe I was going to do a half-ass job and post it without a proper ending and resolution! (Oh the horror of the unfinished dodgy half-ass chapter).

So without further ado please enjoy the 58th and final chapter of The New Resident, it's a long one to finish things off. Following the inevitable end, please enjoy a short expert from Prologue/Chapter 1 of the sequel story, The Larger World.

* * *

Tuesday 17th June

After an hour had passed Carrie and was still on the west post, standing to attention as she impatiently waited to be relieved. It was twelve forty five now, and though she had hoped for an extended shift on watch, when the time to leave came she was eager to get away. At the time passed her eagerness to see Carl quickly turned into a sense of urgency, one that only grew with every minute of delay. She tried to be patient, knowing that it was a reasonable request he take a short break for lunch given he was pulling a double shift, but in hindsight she wished she hadn't agreed to Daryl's last minute request she stay on a little longer.

She had briefly considered abandoning her post, suspecting that if he returned to find her gone Daryl wouldn't be too mad at her, but she erred on the side of caution. Too much had happened already, she didn't need to invite Murphy's Law to make things worse. But by the time Daryl finally returned she made an effort to hide her impatience, for it was rare he took lunch at all.

"Sorry I kept yah," Daryl apologised, tossing Judith's pink lunch box up onto the platform before he ascended the ladder.

"It's okay," she said, managing to keep her impatience from showing. She smiled now, glad that it was time to go and see Carl, to be there for Rick. "Did you have enough to eat for lunch?"

Daryl grunted and nodded, his way of assuring her that he did. He grabbed the pink lunchbox that Carrie noticed was full of dry cereal and started setting his things out, placing it on the ledge alongside his fresh cup of coffee, while she did the opposite. She had nothing other than her water bottle and empty travel mug, but she quickly cleared them away as she gave Daryl a recount of her brief time on watch, filling him as they went about the usual procedure for shift change. He checked the safety on the untouched rifle and then the rounds, casting his eyes over the binoculars, radio and spare battery to satisfy himself that there was everything he needed.

"Are you coming home for dinner tonight?"

It was a little hard to miss Daryl's absence from their home last night, or in fact his absence all together over the last two days. She knew he had a lot to take care of right now, that he was taking over Rick's task of security, that he was helping Sasha with the watch posts, but she had hoped he would come home last night. But he had chosen to eat at Aaron and Eric's house, and she couldn't help but wonder if he was avoiding her. This worry was confirmed a little, for as she voiced this question Daryl looked at her properly for the first time. Just like everyone else had and would, he cast his eyes over the bruises on her neck and then down her right arm, his gaze finally settling on her legs. He seemed to give no outward reaction to her appearance, but she felt she knew him well enough to gauge what he was thinking. He'd wanted to avoid seeing her like this, perhaps guilt ridden with the belief that he had failed her and Carl. But today there was no way for him to avoid seeing her, particularly with how small the western platform they occupied was.

"Yeah, I'll probably come 'ome," he muttered, busying himself by taking the crossbow off his shoulder and setting it down by the stool. As he did this Carrie looked at it sadly, recognising it as the one that belonged to Carl…he wasn't going to need it for a very long time, a thought Daryl voiced a moment later. "He won't mind."

"It's smaller than yours, right?"

He nodded. "It ain't got shit on my old girl, but it'll do until I can fix her up."

"You can fix it?"

"Gonna try," he said proudly, giving a rare smile. "And if she ain't fixable, she'll go up on the wall for all to see. Take down that stupid picture o' London, put my bow up there instead."

Carrie smiled too. "It is a stupid picture," she agreed, knowing the one he referred to. "I'll see you at dinner."

"Mmmm, yeah," he said without commitment, taking a seat before standing up in concern again. "Can yah get down?"

She nodded, brushing off his offer to help her. Tucking the water bottle and empty mug under her bad arm she took her time as she descended the ladder, and she gave him a short wave as she departed. Just as it felt good to be back outside under the hot sun, so too did it feel good to stretch her legs after sitting on watch for over an hour, after more than a day of sitting mostly idle. She'd loved to go for a brisk walk around the community, to feel her blood pumping, but nor did she wish to draw attention to herself. Perhaps that evening she might go, seeking refuge and privacy in the darkness…perhaps she would even take company with her, maybe Tara or someone else from her family.

Making a quick stop at home she gave the now empty travel mug a quick rinse and then set it into the dishwasher, reminding herself to return it to Olivia when it was clean, and then wasted no time in setting off for the Infirmary. She could have stayed in for something to eat, to take advantage of the empty house by stealing a piece of Michonne's candy from where she hid it in the medicine cabinet, but instead she left straight away. By now she had delayed enough already. The short walk to the Infirmary made her feel like she was under a spotlight, for although there weren't many out and about at the moment, part of her felt like she was being watch from afar, like she was the centre of attention.

She kept her face down as she passed Jessie's place, and her eyes averted as she passed Rosemary's house where she and Brody sat together on the porch. When they waved to her she had no choice but to return it, raising her head and giving a polite smile, finding small relief when they didn't try to talk to her. As she approached the Infirmary she looked further up the road to where some of the younger kids were playing hopscotch, Barbara and Betsy out there with chalk in hand, helping them draw the squares. Their backs were to Carrie, giving her the privacy she needed to get to the Infirmary as quickly as possible. Though there was a much greater sense of community these days, she still knew that gossip would be running rampant right now, that Pete's attack and death was now the hottest topic in months.

As she reached the Infirmary Carrie slowed and then looked back up the street where the children were playing, her heart aching when she saw that Sam wasn't there. Trying not to think about him, she took a deep breath as she crossed the pavement and arrived on the front porch of the Infirmary, though she was first greeted by a pair of small feet poking out from the other side of the love seat. Coming closer she was unsurprised to see Enid sitting there, her choice of seating on the ground necessary to avoid detection from those inside. She sat with a comic book in her lap, the large headphones over her ears connected to an iPod in her pocket. When she noticed Carrie's approach in her peripheral vision she visibly jumped, her cheeks reddening when she realised her presence out on the porch had been detected.

"Hey, Enid," she said softly when she took the headphones off. "You alright?"

"Yeah."

"Do you need to see Denise?" she asked, though she suspected she didn't.

Enid glanced towards the door. She hastily shook her head and then looked back up at Carrie, her expression occupied by her usual sullenness.

"I'm going in to see him," Carrie told her gently, picking up on her nervousness, the same type she herself felt.

At this remark Enid turned her attention back to her comic. "Okay."

"Do you want to come with me?"

"No," she replied abruptly.

Carrie wanted to encourage her, to reassure her that Carl wouldn't mind, that maybe he was hoping she would come visit, but she held her tongue instead. In the same way that she was, Enid would go and see Carl when she was ready to, and clearly right now she was not. But she was there, awkwardly hiding outside the Infirmary so that she was close by, so that she was there without actually having to confront what had happened to him. Remembering what Rick had told her the other day, that Enid had kissed Carl, Carrie felt for the poor girl, knowing how frightened she must feel.

"I'll tell him you-"

"No," Enid hissed urgently, cutting her off. "Don't tell him I'm out here, alright?"

"Okay, okay," she placated her, worried when for a moment it seemed like Enid might leave. "I won't tell him you're here, it's cool."

Enid glared up at her with suspicion, and though she accepted this assurance it seemed she was still rather unhappy that her lurking had been interrupted. Without another word she put her headphones back on and returned her comic, the end to the interaction allowing Carrie to breathe a sigh of relief. It felt easier now to politely knock on the door and wait, knowing that if it was closed with the blinds drawn she ought not to let herself in uninvited. She didn't have to wait long, for a moment later Denise opened the door with a warm smile.

"Carrie, come in," she said, stepping back and opening the door to admit her.

"Thanks," she said quietly, going inside and looking around. At first glance the main room of the Infirmary seemed unchanged and unoccupied, no different from how she had departed it yesterday morning.

"Enid?" Denise said very quietly, looking outside at her. "Are you still not out there?"

"No," she said tersely, not looking up. "I mean yes. I'm…"

Denise nodded, understanding. "It's pretty warm out. Would you like some iced tea?"

To Carrie's surprise Enid looked up, her expression softening and becoming almost vulnerable…only almost. "Yes, please," she said quietly, before quickly continuing. "But I'm not here."

"Got it," Denise agreed, closing the door and then turning to Carrie. "They're down that way. Let me know when you're ready, I'd like to give you a check over if that's okay."

Nodding cooperatively, Carrie followed her direction towards the hallway, tentatively approaching it. She found Rick standing halfway down, leaning against the wall with his arms folded across his chest and his gaze downcast, but when he heard her approach he looked up. A slow smile crossed his face, the type that warmed her heart to see. He was glad she was there, he'd been waiting for her. But his smile faded a little, and just like everyone else she would encounter today he cast his eyes down her body. She realised that this was the first time that he had seen the bruises, for although he might have caught a glimpse of her neck last night, her legs had been hidden beneath her clothing. Nevertheless he averted his eyes quickly and looked back at her face, his smile returning as he moved towards her.

"Thank you for coming," he said softly, joining her at the mouth of the hallway.

She nodded, suddenly unsure of what to say now that she was there. "Where is he?"

"He's using the bathroom," he answered, gesturing down the hallway. "By himself."

"Ahhh," she chuckled in amusement. "Hence the hovering?"

"Yes, hence the hovering," he agreed sheepishly, embarrassed by what might be over protectiveness. He glanced down the hallway again, a flicker of concern in his eyes, but then he turned back to her. "How was your morning?"

"Just fine. I slept in, took watch for a little while. Oh, Judith peed on me," she chuckled, suddenly remembering.

Rick laughed at this, the mirth meeting his eyes and indicating that his amusement was real, that he wasn't laughing just for her benefit. "Peed on you, huh? Well ain't that a nice way to start the day."

Nodding in agreement, Carrie looking into the kitchen when Denise called her name, offering she and Rick some iced tea. They shook their heads, the two of them watching on as she poured the tea into a glass and added some ice before taking it outside. Rick seemed to sigh now, his hands sliding into the pockets of his jeans as he glanced down the hallway and then back at Carrie.

"Enid's been _not here_ for over a day now," he said softly. "Deanna has to make her go home every night, and then she's right back there in the morning."

"I asked if she wanted to come in, but she said no."

"Good," Rick nodded, this remark surprising Carrie. "I'm glad she's here, that she cares…but I don't think Carl's ready to see anyone."

"Oh."

"He wants to see you," he said quickly, reassuring her. "He knows you're coming. He's glad."

Carrie nodded, glad for the reassurance. That's all people had been telling her, that Carl had asked to see her, that he was waiting expectantly. As the moment drew nearer and nearer she looked at Rick, wishing that this was a moment she could go to him, that they could put their arms around one another and enjoy the embrace. But she held herself back, seeing that he was distracted at the moment. He kept glancing down the hallway, looking worried as he waited for Carl to come out of the bathroom. Realising she had noticed his inattention he apologised unnecessarily, running his hand through his hair before he turned and went to the bathroom door.

"Carl, you doing okay in there?" he asked, having knocked politely.

"Yeah," Carl replied, his voice sounding faint to Carrie who stood a little way down the hall. Nevertheless she felt a glimmer of hope as she recognised his voice, the sound of it a small confirmation that he truly had survived.

"You're taking a while, that's all," Rick continued in concern. "Do you need anything?"

"No. Go away."

"Do you-"

"Dad! I'm losing half my body weight in shit, it's gonna take more than a minute!" he called out in exasperation, his voice louder this time. "Could you please get lost already?"

While Carrie cringed so too did Rick, who nodded sheepishly to the bathroom door. He opened his mouth to say something else, to ask again if Carl needed anything, but he seemed to think better of it. "Sorry…you should probably crack the window when you're done."

Though she felt badly for Carl's apparent suffering, Carrie could barely hide her smile, thoroughly amused by the way he chastised his father. "How long have you been hovering outside the door?"

"Twenty minutes," he admitted, using the extended length of time to justify himself. As he returned to her he continued explaining. "He started antibiotics last night, but they don't seem to be agreeing with his stomach. They're-"

"Who are you talking to out there?" Carl called out suspiciously.

Rick hesitated. "Carrie."

"Great!" he said sarcastically. "Tell her all about it!"

"Alright, I will."

"Go away!" he moaned, pleading with him. "Stop standing out there, it's weird!"

It didn't appear that Rick had any intention of leaving, but when he caught Denise's eye from across the room he seemed to get the hint. With reluctance he followed Carrie out into the main area of the Infirmary, she could feel him glancing down at the bruises on her legs, critiquing them. They slowed to a stop, dithering there for a moment as they deliberated over the next step.

"I could use some fresh air," he admitted, rubbing his hand over his weary face. He gestured to the patio doors, asking her to join him.

"I'll come out in a minute. I need to see Denise first."

He nodded in agreement as Denise came over, but he deliberated a moment longer. For a moment she thought that he was going to lean over to kiss her, but he seemed to think better of it. Carrie was glad he did, not entirely sure of where her head was at the moment, the gesture of love and intimacy not feeling like it belonged in that moment. She turned away from him and seated herself on the edge of a nearby bed, leaving him to stand there alone for a moment. Moments later he moved, and as he walked past her she self consciously rested her hands on the top of her legs. She didn't mind that he saw the bruises, it was inevitable that he would, but part of her felt like she needed to protect him, to hide what Pete had done to her. It didn't matter though, for Denise pulled the curtains around the bed to give them some privacy, and moments later the patio door opened and then closed as Rick stepped outside.

"Have you applied any ice today?" Denise asked her, gesturing to her legs.

"No."

"Have you taken any ibuprofen?"

She paused, recalling that Denise had told her to. "Yes."

"Good. Sit tight for a minute, I'll be right back."

As Denise slipped out of the curtains and pulled them back, Carrie sighed as she waited patiently. She had come here to see Carl, but should have anticipated Denise would want to check her over. Given his current occupation it wasn't like she was missing time with him anyway. As this thought occurred to her she wondered if he was alright, if there was a genuine need for Rick to be hovering. Being bound to the bathroom with an upset stomach was bad enough, but after suffering the injury he had? Was he okay to be left alone in there?

Denise returned a few moments later, wrapping some ice packs in paper towel before passing them to Carrie. "How's the pain in your legs? You look like you're walking okay."

"They don't hurt much any more," she said honestly, pulling up the hem of her shorts before applying the ice. "A little when I climb the stairs, but that's all."

"Good. Their colour is developing nicely. What about your throat? Is the discomfort still easing?"

"Gone," she said simply, automatically raising her hand to her neck. "I can talk, swallow, eat…everything's fine."

"Is it okay if I make an assessment?" she asked gently. "Just a quick feel of things?"

She nodded automatically, ignoring the small part of herself that was saying no, that didn't want anyone touching her. Denise seemed aware of this, sensitive to what she had been through, and she took a seat on a small stool that lowered her to slightly beneath Carrie's height. Talking her through what she was doing she reached up and gently pressed her fingers around her neck, assessing what she could feel.

"How did you sleep last night?"

"Okay," she said honestly, her heart warming when she thought of Rick's company beside her, his arm around her as they both sought sleep they needed. "I took the half sleeping pill you gave me, but I don't think I want anymore."

"Why's that?"

"I don't like the way I feel when I wake up. It's like being hung over…just without the fun before."

Denise smiled a little, taking her hands off her neck before pulling over a tray table. "How would you say you're feeling right now?"

Taking her time to consider her answer, Carrie tried to gauge what she was feeling, what was going through her head. "I feel okay," she said honestly, actually giving a smile that felt real. "I'm worried about Carl, about Rick…but I feel good."

"I'm glad to hear that," Denise replied as she looked her in the eye, holding her gaze for a moment before turning back to the supplies she was setting out on the tray table.

"But?" Carrie pressed, feeling like she had more to say.

"But, you may start to experience some ongoing symptoms in the coming days," she began explaining, gently taking her broken wrist and setting it on the table. "It could be things like flashbacks and nightmares. Maybe anxiety or emotions that come on very strongly, sometimes without warning. It's to be expected following what happened to you. You're not being irrational, or dramatic. Okay?"

She nodded slowly, already beginning to feel her good mood waning. "Yeah. I understand."

"When it starts, I'd like for you to come and see me, if you're comfortable with that. I think I could be of some help, some support. Carrie?"

This time she nodded hastily, not wanting Denise to ask her again. She held back the heavy sigh she wanted to release, her eyes darting up towards the patio door where Rick was, but she couldn't see through the curtains. Thankfully Denise seemed to get the hint, and the subject swiftly changed.

"Tell me about your wrist. Is it hurting much?"

"Not really, just aching. I've been keeping it elevated when I can."

"I can tell," she remarked in approval, looking at her wrist when the splint was removed. "The swelling's gone down significantly…and if I'm not mistaken, there are still no deformities in the wrist bones."

"Will I need to keep the splint on?"

"Yes, definitely. In a couple of days we might look at another plaster cast, but otherwise the splint is fine. We'll just change it over today, get you one that's dry."

Apologising for her forgetfulness in getting it wet while she showered, her head having felt so cloudy when she awoke that morning, Carrie patiently allowed Denise to wipe her skin down with a soft cloth before putting on a clean splint. As she watched she couldn't help but compare her broken wrist to her healthier left, taking note of how much skinner it was. It had been just over a month since she broken it during the supply run when Aidan and Noah were killed, and already the muscle mass had wasted away from poor use. She tried not to let this bother her, knowing that there was simply nothing she could do but allow the bone to heal. But she felt impatient, sick and tired of the cumbersome injury that held her back from going on supply runs and helping with the safe houses. It held her back from protecting herself too, from protecting the people she loved like Carl.

"I think this can stay off now," Denise decided, having finished with the wrist splint before removing the one around her middle and fourth fingers. "They're not broken, just bruised."

"Good," Carrie nodded in agreement, relieved to have one less thing to hold her back. Her fingers were dark blue in colour and still swollen, but if Denise decided they weren't broken then that was good enough for her.

In no time at all Denise had given her another all clear, though she compelled Carrie to take it easy for a while, to defer any responsibilities or tasks that couldn't be handled by someone else. The worst of it might be over, but she needed to be taking care of herself, something she was more than willing to do. She was glad when Denise finished up, and it was without delay that she went outside to join Rick. He looked over his shoulder the moment he heard the door handle move, his eyes alight and ready in case it was Carl who needed him, but he relaxed when he saw Carrie. She smiled tentatively as she came outside, her smile growing when she felt the warmth of the sun on her skin once again. The sound of the kids playing hopscotch echoed through the community, Courtney's raucous laughter heard by all, the sound of her happiness helping ease the ache that continued to linger in Carrie's chest.

"It's a nice day out," Rick commented, resuming his former position. He leant with his forearms against the porch railing, looking out over the lake towards the gates.

"It's a beautiful day," Carrie corrected him.

Moving to stand by his side, she too leant with her forearms against the porch railing, following his gaze across the lake. Much like they were, Natalie and Bob sat in the gazebo opposite their house, still holding hands after fifty six years of marriage. A few yards away Carol and Judith were by the water's edge, the four of them enjoying one another's company while Judith strolled barefoot along the grass. She kept approaching the water's edge only to stop, likely being chastised and warned by Carol who kept a close eye on her.

"Denise has just gone to check on him," she commented, glancing over her shoulder into the Infirmary. Denise was emerging from the hallway, giving she and Rick a quick thumbs up to indicate that all was still well.

"Good," he said gratefully. "He was pretty clear with telling me to get lost. He doesn't need me hovering."

"How is he?" she enquired. "I mean how is he _really_?"

Rick paused, considering the question as he gave a long sigh. "I don't think it's really hit him yet. It hasn't hit either of us," he admitted softly. "Today's the first time he's really been out of bed. He's a bit unsteady on his feet, but Denise says that's probably more to do with the morphine than his vision."

Carrie's heart clenched at the mention of Carl's vision. "You said the antibiotics have made him sick?"

"Might be them, might not be," he muttered, sounding confused before he continued more clearly. "He was taking them after he got that cut on his arm, and he was fine, but then he's been sick all morning. Could be the antibiotics, could be the morphine…could be bad luck."

"I would have thought he'd had enough of that."

Rick nodded wearily, rubbing his jaw as he tried to think. His lips parted to say something, but he was distracted by the sound of Judith crying across the lake. They both turned to look, seeing her standing by the edge of the water and protesting the fact she wasn't allowed to go any closer. A long howl of displeasure was heard as she slowly returned to Carol, though at the last minute she bypassed her and went to Natalie and Bob instead, seeking their comfort. Her cries abruptly stopped with Bob reached out with his walking stick and poked her, and after a moment of surprised silence she burst into laughter.

"She liked the water the other day. Liked being in the pool with Maggie," Rick commented, filling the silence.

Carrie nodded in agreement. "Carol told her you're coming home tonight, that you'd read to her and put her to bed. She seemed happy."

"I wanted to see her last night. I wanted to go over there and wake her up, just so I could put her back to sleep again."

"Why didn't you?"

"Because Glenn would have had my head," he laughed. "Maggie too. She's been a little brat for them. She doesn't like not being at home."

A brief silence lapsed again, the two of them watching contentedly as Judith and Bob wrestled for control of the walking stick, Bob letting her win.

"Carol stopped in a little while ago, said you were on watch."

"Yeah, I came straight from there."

"How was it?" he asked forlornly, sounding as though he missed the boring task.

"It was nice…it got a little nicer when Olivia stopped by." She looked at him sidelong as she said this, pleased by the slow smile that was forming on his lips, the crinkle in the corner of his eyes that showed his happiness.

"Olivia stopped by, huh?" he said as he looked at her properly. "That was nice of her."

It took all she had for Carrie to not roll her eyes, to not scold him for trying to be coy about what he had arranged for her. She started to express her gratitude, but couldn't quite find the words to express what his simple act of thoughtfulness meant to her. It was amazing that he remembered her favourite coffee when she'd mentioned it only once many months ago, wonderful that he wanted to surprise her with it, and incredible that he did so in the midst of their current crisis. In spite of everything going on with his child he had still been thinking of her, he'd still wanted her to be happy, even if only for a moment. Were there any words to express what that meant to her?

"Was it right?" he asked hopefully, concerned that she hadn't said anything.

Not knowing how else to respond, Carrie followed the urge that spread through her limbs, listening to what her body told her to do. She moved closer to him and looped her arm through his, entwining their fingers together as she leant in to kiss him. The kiss they shared the night before was only fleeting, the most she had been able to give him at the time, but that had to change now. She lingered close to his lips, not because she was hesitating, but because she wanted to remember this moment, to draw on it for comfort throughout the coming weeks and months. She and Rick had survived this, and she knew it meant they could survive anything else this world threw at them.

The problems of the world faded as they shared a kiss, happiness erupting inside her chest when their lips met. Their bodies naturally moved towards one another, Rick allowing her to take the lead and following it eagerly. It was a wonderful feeling to kiss him this way, for although it wasn't sensual or evocative it seemed to speak volumes about their relationship, about how they loved one another. A long held pain in her chest started to ease, her spirits lifting a little as she clenched her fingers around his. He parted his lips at her request, allowing her to deepen the kiss until it slowed to a natural conclusion.

As she whispered her gratitude for the coffee they parted, but only a little. Carrie wanted to stay right there as they were, their arms entwined and hands held, their faces close enough to feel one another's breath. When they lingered there he kissed her again, his lips moving over hers slowly and gently, a final touch before they parted properly now. He brought his other hand to theirs and held hers in both of his, holding her gaze as they simply enjoyed the moment, the peaceful serenity that they were only afforded for a short while. Some whispered murmurs passed their lips, Rick whispering that he loved her before she did the same in return. It was exactly what the moment was calling for, and when they kissed again he brought his hand up to her hair, stroking it behind her ear and letting his fingers trail down her jaw.

Feeling confident enough, Carrie reached up with her right hand and placed it over his, gently prompting it lower. She let his fingers trace down the side of her neck, his gaze dropping to look at the bruises there. Like she had expected it to his expression darkened, the peaceful moment broken by the way she wanted to confront what happened to her.

"They're not as bad as they look," she tried to reassure him. Stepping back a little she put some space between them, allowing him to look down at her legs. "My legs ache a little, but my neck doesn't hurt at all anymore."

He was silent for a few moments, his jaw set as he looked at her legs. "The colour looks worse," he commented quietly. "Darker."

Carrie frowned, not understanding. "Darker? When did you see them before?'

"That first night, while you were still here. I came and sat with you for a little while," he explained, raising his gaze and looking at her again. "You were pretty out of it though. You probably don't remember."

She paused and tried to think, remembering only that she had seen his face at some stage, but she hadn't been sure if she was really seeing him or if she just wanted to see him. "I think I do…I feel like I do."

He gave no reaction to this, his attention turning back to the bruises on her neck. For a moment he allowed his hand to rest there where she had left it, but then trailed it off her shoulder and down her arm, bringing it back to hold hers. They stood there in comfortable silence again, but now that the elephant in the room had been broached Carrie wanted to keep going, to talk about things a little more.

"Rick, I need to ask you something…but I'm not mad about it."

Though he nodded and appeared to be listening, he turned his gaze out towards the lake, breaking eye contact as though he dreaded her question already. "Go on."

"Why didn't you tell me the truth about your agreement with Pete?" she asked, thinking back to what he had told her during his attack. "That you attacked him. That you threatened him?"

With his gaze still focused across the lake he gave no immediate response, his plain expression making her wonder if she needed to ask him again. Was he thinking about his answer? Was he coming up with a lie? Or was he, as she suspected, trying to sort through every single action he had taken over the last month, trying to pinpoint where things had gone so terribly wrong?

"The last time I showed you that side of myself, you left the day after," he eventually answered, his voice so soft she almost couldn't hear. "Things between you and I were already so fragile…I didn't want to give you another reason to stay away."

His answer carried more weight than she expected, the impact of what he had feared hitting her heavily. She knew that they had handled their brief separation very differently, that to him it felt like she was leaving their relationship, whereas she was leaving for the sake of their relationship. She had no idea he was so scared that he had to hide himself from her, that he had to pretend. Thinking of the days that preceded her departure, the fighting and the incident at the safe house, she recalled the things he had been trying to tell her. He was showing her who he was, who had he to be in order to protect his family, and he was asking her to accept that. Her departure made him so scared of being himself that he had to hide the truth from her.

"I told you I was coming back," she said, her voice heavy with emotion. "I told you I was in this, that I wanted to be with you."

"I know," he said hastily, looking around when he heard the emotion in her voice. "I know you did, I just…I didn't know what to think."

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry you felt like you had to lie to me."

Holding her hand even tighter Rick nodded, forgiving her. "I'm sorry too…for everything."

She took a shuddering breath, closing her eyes and trying to hold back the moisture that was building in them. She hated being so emotionally vulnerable in front of another person, but when she felt Rick's lips pressed against her forehead she let the tears fall. It was only a few, her aversion fading a little when she felt Rick shaking, when she felt his rapid pulse on the inside of his wrist. He was upset too, and she knew he didn't give a shit that she was crying, that it didn't bother or embarrass him. She was going to have to get used to this, to being vulnerable in front of him and to letting him be the same in front of her. They had a long and difficult road ahead of them, there would be no sweeping their problems under the rug and pretending they didn't exist. They had to confront these things, and she knew that together they would be.

"I feel like we need to start over again," she said quietly, moving closer to him again. It was nice feeling his body against hers, their hips and arms touching as they stood side by side looking across the lake.

"I thought we did," he said, a gentle nudge making her look him in the eye. He held her gaze now, his blue eyes ensuring that she listened. "The other day, you and I started over."

"Yes. But…but with w-"

"No buts," he said firmly. "We started over. We said what needed to be said, and we started over. It's not the start we wanted, but it's what we've got."

Seeing that he was right, she nodded slowly.

"You told me you were happy," he said emphatically, reminding her. "You told me you wanted to start our life together, that you were sick of waiting."

"Yes," she agreed, remembering the conversation clearly. "You said you felt the same."

"I still do. There's no reason that can't start our life together right now. I know it's shitty timing, I know that it's not what how we wanted things to start out, but-"

"It's what we've got," she said, finishing his sentence for him.

"Yes," he agreed. "So let's do it."

She smiled, her heart swelling with the type of happiness she hadn't felt since before Pete's attack. There was nothing for her to do but kiss him again, the gesture sealing her agreement, her desire to do exactly what he said.

"Things are going to change," he continued quietly. "I'm stepping back from things, I'll be focusing on Carl for as long as he needs me."

"Good," she said in relief, sharing his belief that things needed to change. She didn't say it out loud, but it occurred to her Rick was finally going to spend more time with Carl like he had wanted to, she just wished it hadn't taken his near death to create the opportunity. She knew too that Rick wished the same, that he'd be processing that among many of the other regrets he must harbour.

"I know I have no right to tell you what to do," he continued. "But I can ask, can't I?"

"Ask what?"

"For you to step back from things too."

She gave a short laugh, gesturing to her broken wrist. "I don't think I have much choice."

Rick shook his head, disagreeing. "A broken wrist won't stop you going on runs, you and I both know that. So I have to ask…please step back from things too."

Pausing, Carrie gave consideration to his request. "Why?"

"Isn't it obvious?"

"If it was, I wouldn't ask."

"I want you to step back the way I am, for us to step back together. It won't be forever," he assured her. "It can't be. But I want us to focus on us, on learning how to be a family. That's why I want you to step back."

Carrie had to approve of his reasons. If it was because he was afraid for her or he wanted to keep her safe inside the walls her answer would have been no, that as soon as she was ready she would be helping the run crew again. But he needed her by his side throughout Carl's recovery, he needed her there for him. He wanted them to start being a family together, and she wanted that too.

Just as Rick was about to say something a short knock at the door stopped him, and they both turned around to see Denise standing inside. She gave them a short wave and gestured behind herself, and Carrie held her breath when she saw Carl emerging from the hallway. She felt her heart starting to race as she looked at him properly, her stomach twisting when she saw the heavy bandage wound around his head. He was unsteady on his feet, his hand drifting to the kitchen counter as he slowly made his way into the living area. For a few moments he lingered there, talking to Denise who was coming his side.

"Are you coming in?" Carrie asked quietly. She had noticed that Rick turned away when Carl came out, that his jaw was clenched and his body tense. He wasn't looking at Carl…he couldn't.

"Do you need me to?"

Carrie hesitated, having assumed he would be there by her side. She hadn't expected to see Carl alone, and what was she supposed to say to him? What was she supposed to do? Rick was meant to be there to break the ice, to guide her through it just like he had on Sunday when they celebrated Father's Day. Feeling nervous she looked back inside, noting that Carl was now sitting at the kitchen counter, his chin resting in his hand as Denise poured him a glass of water and dispensed a pill in a small cup. He had already realised she was out there, and when she caught his attention he gave her a small smile. He raised his hand in a wave, and she could tell from that small gesture how tired he must be.

She turned back to Rick now, her heart aching to see the sadness in his eyes. Running her hand up his arm to his shoulder she leant in close and pressed her lips to his cheek, feeling the way he drew a deep breath. His gaze was cast into the lake below and didn't look up.

"Stay," she said quietly.

He nodded, but it seemed moments later he was struck with guilt, hastening to clarify his intentions. "I'll just be a minute," he said quickly. He looked up at her as he said this, but barely managed to look her in the eye before turning away again. "I just need a minute."

She kissed his cheek again, understanding. This was her moment to support him, to give him something he needed by doing this alone. Bracing herself as she went in, Carrie tried not to show how nervous she was, wanting so badly for this to go well. But instantly she knew that everything was okay, for even with the bandage covering half his face she could see that Carl was relieved to see her, perhaps just as relieved as she was to see him. Already he was sitting up a little straighter, turning towards her as she came inside and closed the door.

"Hey," he said quietly, managing a small smile.

She started to respond, but her voice failed her when she tried to speak, forcing her to clear her throat. There was a long pause, Denise hovering in the kitchen as she tried not to intrude, and then she managed to find her voice. "Hey," she started hesitantly, unsure of what to say next. "I'm glad you're…" She trailed off, unable to say that she was glad he was alright when he sure as hell wasn't.

There was another pause, but thankfully Carl filled the silence. "Alive?" he supplied. "Glad I'm alive?"

With a deep breath Carrie nodded her head, reminded once again of how close he had come to death. If things had just gone the tiniest bit differently, Rick would be mourning his son's death, never to be the same again.

"Same here," he continued. "I'm glad you're alive."

She could see him looking at her legs, taking in the bruises before looking up to her broken wrist and then her neck. While his gaze roamed her injuries Carrie's was transfixed on the bandage around his face, morbidly wondering what was left beneath it. Looking at him now it seemed unfathomable that there was nothing left, that his eye was gone. Just as it had the day Carol told her it felt like it was all just a mean spirited joke, one that everyone was in on but her. Still she kept waiting for someone to confess the deception, for Carl to smirk in amusement as he removed the bandage and showed that he was alright after all.

"This is the one that tastes bad," Denise apologised to him, dispensing another pill. "Keep it on your tongue until it dissolves, then you can have some water."

With great reluctance he took the small pill and considered it long and hard, finally putting it into his mouth as instructed. He grimaced at the taste, breathing heavily through his nose until he was able to take a drink of water. Though he rushed to raise it to his mouth he only drank a small amount, grimacing again. His shoulders slumped in relief when the taste was gone, and his hands shaking as he set the glass on the counter and pushed it back to Denise with a murmur of gratitude.

He slowly slid off the stool he occupied and stood, his hand still resting on the counter before he dared take a step away. "I think I need to lay down again," he decided, his voice becoming heavy.

Carrie was both relieved and disappointed at this. "I'll come back later if you like."

Carl looked to her at this, frowning before hastily relaxing his features, and the clenching of his fist indicated the frown had hurt. "You don't have to go," he said quickly. "You can come in if you want. There's a chair."

Denise gave a short nod at this, and trusting that this met with the doctor's approval was all Carrie needed to agree. If Carl wanted her to stay then she was going to, even if it made her heart ache and her stomach twist in knots to see him like this. She followed him past the kitchen towards the bedroom at the front, catching the way he looked out onto the patio where Rick stood. He was still out there, forearms leant against the railing as he looked out across the lake, mentally preparing himself to come back inside and be with his son.

"Is Enid still _not out_ there?" Carl asked as they entered the room. When Carrie didn't respond he looked up at her as he sank down onto the edge of the double bed. "I lost my eye," he said dryly. "Not my hearing. I know she's been out there."

Seeing no use in denying it, Carrie answered. "Yeah, she's still not out there."

On her way in she paused, taking a pump of the hand sanitiser that was fixed to the wall. She rubbed it in and then took a seat in the chair Carl directed her too, sitting on the edge with her hands resting on her knees. Even as he lay down with a heavy sigh she could see him looking over at her neck, not that she was doing any different to him. It was awful of her, but she could hardly take her eyes off the bandage, almost as if she didn't know where on his face to look. Thankfully Denise came in a few moments later, slipping past Carrie in the chair and making her way over to Carl.

Denise helped him get comfortable, offering him another pillow as she reattached the drip to the cannula in the back of his hand. He declined all offers, asking only for more morphine, the admission that he was in pain making Carrie's heart clench. She wanted to hurry Denise, to tell her to get the morphine immediately so that Carl didn't have to feel even a moment of pain, but she held back. It was clear how attentive she was, that Carl was being adequately cared for. In less than a minute she was back, administering a little more of the requested pain relief. With that taken care of she slipped the call button into his hand, urging him to use it if he needed anything at all. When Denise left a heavy silence fell about the hospital room, neither she nor Carl sure of what to say first.

"Aren't you staying a little while?"

She knew what he meant, that he had noticed the uncomfortable way she sat on the edge of the chair, as if she was getting up to leave at any moment. Carrie settled back into the chair and brought one of her feet up, tucking it beneath her leg. "Yeah, I'm staying."

"Good," he said softly, closing his eye for a moment. "The morphine makes me woozy, but you can stay if you want."

"I will," she promised him.

Silence fell again, but it was comfortable this time, both of them a little more at ease now the ice had broken. In time Carl opened his eye again, and just like before he was looking at the bruises on her legs and neck, his jaw flexing. When he noticed that she knew he was looking his cheeks seemed to redden, and he quickly averted his gaze.

"They don't hurt anymore," she said, giving him the same honest truth she had given to Rick. "They just look bad."

To her surprise he openly agreed with this. "Yeah, they do," he muttered, looking back at them now. A long moment passed before he spoke again. "Did he choke you?"

She hesitated at this, swallowing heavily before deciding to be honest. Carl deserved that much from her, that she give him the whole truth of what happened. "Yes. It wasn't for long though," she said, though at the time it had felt infinite, and she remembered every horrible moment. "Daryl got there pretty quick."

"But you killed him, didn't you," he eagerly questioned, propping himself up on his elbow. "It was you?"

"Yes."

"Good. He deserved to die."

"Yes," she said again.

Satisfied with the answers Carl lay back down again. He raised a hand and pressed it to the front of the bandage, right over what must be the empty eye socket. "It feels weird," he said quietly, noticing her attention. "Like it's still there."

Unable to take it any longer, Carrie took a deep breath and then sat forward in the chair, holding his gaze for a moment. "Carl, I…I'm sorry this happened to you," she began, her voice tighter than she'd like. "I wish that I could take it all back, that I could change how things went."

It seemed he had been expecting this, for he simply nodded as he took a deep breath in. "I know. You did tell me to go," he reminded her. "You did say I was gonna get hurt."

"Don't think that way," she implored him.

"Like you're not," he accused, though not unkindly. With a heavy sigh he turned onto his back, looking up at the ceiling. "We always blame ourselves when shit happens. It's what people do."

"It wasn't either of our fault," she said, the words not only for his benefit but for hers too. "Pete did what he was going to do. Nothing we did could have stopped him once he decided to hurt us."

Carl nodded, looking up at the ceiling before eventually returning his gaze to her. "I wasn't going to leave you. Not with him. Not with what he was going to do."

Her heart sank at these words, reluctantly remembering how Carl had found them that day. He'd walked in to find her pinned to the ground beneath Pete, her face wet with tears and her dress pushed up. At first Pete had tried to brush it off as a misunderstanding, perhaps embarrassed by the insinuation, but quickly he had started using it to his advantage. He had goaded Carl, groping her right in front of him and then taunting him for not stopping it.

"I couldn't leave you like that," he repeated, his voice strong with conviction. "I know what that's like…thinking that it could happen."

She held her breath for a moment, knowing he referred to his own experience with the Claimer group. Though she didn't know the details, Rick having never been forthcoming about it, she knew it had to be somewhat consistent with her own experience. The night that group attacked Sue had died while Carrie had fled, unable to help her and instead taking the opportunity to save herself.

"I know what that's like too," she said quietly, looking him in the eye. She held his gaze for a moment, knowing the gravity of her words. "I wish you had left me…but thank you."

There was a long pause, for though Carl had mentioned it the very day they met, they had never discussed the fact they had both made close escapes from the Claimer group, and nor did he know what happened with Granger's group. His only response was a nod, and still trying to get comfortable he turned onto his left side, plumping up the pillows before laying his head down again. "Dad said that Pete didn't do anything to you," he said, his eye drifting shut from lethargy. "You know, he didn't do anything…like _that_."

It was clear what he was getting at, that he was perhaps too shy to say the words out loud, and Carrie didn't seek to embarrass or tease him like she might have in different circumstances. "No, he didn't. That wasn't what he wanted."

This remark seemed to get Carl's attention, and he opened his eye and looked at her. "It sure looked like that's what he wanted."

Carrie shook her head, sitting back in the chair and getting comfortable again. "No. He didn't want to have sex with me," she said, feeling as though speaking the words out loud helped her own belief. "But he did want to hurt us. He wanted your dad to suffer, to feel the way he felt."

"Because he helped Jessie kick him out?"

"Yes."

"But…" he sighed, reaching up and touching the bandage again. "But why did he do _that_ to you?"

She paused, struggling to find the words to articulate what Pete wanted to do. He was trying to intimidate her, to use his touch and the threat of more to keep both she and Carl under his control…he did it excellently too. "Because he was cruel," she finally said, the words harder to say than she expected. "Because he didn't care."

It was to her relief that Carl didn't say anymore, the subject exhausted now, neither of them wanting to discuss it further. Like before a short time came to pass, allowing Carl to think things through before he voiced his next question.

"Do you remember how it all happened?"

"Yes. I didn't at first, but I remember it very clearly now."

"Can you tell me what happened?" he requested. "I don't really remember when he actually shot me. It's all fuzzy…confusing."

Carrie pressed her lips together, realising he wanted her to tell him, to describe the sequence of events. "You tried to shoot him, but he was so close to me you couldn't get a good shot. I think after the first shot went off he realised it was over, that help would be coming."

"Then what?"

"He lunged for you. You both struggled for a moment, and then the gun went off."

"Guns don't go off," he said sharply, correcting her. "People pull the trigger."

"Yes," she agreed, remembering the principle Rick and the others had drilled into her.

There was silence for a few moments, and then he spoke very quietly. "I think it was me."

"You?"

He nodded, looking at the wall. "I think it was me who pulled the trigger when I got shot."

"No," she said very quickly, the lie coming before she could think twice. It was entirely plausible that Carl had been the one whose finger was on the trigger when it was pulled during the struggle, and with Pete blocking her view there was no way she could be sure…but who was ever going to contradict her? She didn't care if she had to lie to him, she couldn't let him think he was even a little bit responsible for his injury. "Pete had the gun, it was him."

Carl looked at her long and hard, holding her gaze as he tried to decide how he felt about this news. Obviously he had some memories of the attack, and with this in mind Carrie repeated the untruth she had told him, imploring him to believe her, to accept it. Seeing her certainty Carl finally gave a gentle nod before settling further into the pillows, though whether he believed her genuinely or because he chose to she would never know.

There was a comfortable silence until he groaned under his breath, shifting in the bed and bringing his hand across his stomach. Concerned Carrie sat up in the chair and looked closer, seeing the grimace of discomfort he was trying to hold back.

"I'm okay," he said, answering her enquiry. A few moments later he relaxed with a heavy sigh, and then gave a small yawn. "Hey…what's the definition of bravery?"

Carrie frowned, judging by his tone that he was making a joke. "Ummm. I don't know."

The corners of his mouth turned upward, a smile making its way across his face. "The first fart after diarrhoea."

Her mouth gaped in a combination of disgust and amusement, and upon seeing the stupid look of satisfaction on his face she had to settle on the latter. It felt joyful to burst into laughter, the emotion a stark contrast to the difficult conversation they had been having up until now. Spurred on by her Carl too started laughed, though his was a little more stuttered and reserved, the motion hurting his face. Nevertheless there was no mistaking that for that brief moment he was happy, a simple joke helping lift his spirits.

"Oh Carl," she pretended to scold him. "That was a really _shitty_ joke."

He looked at her in disbelief, his mouth gaping in surprise as he began laughing again. His shoulders shook as he lay there in the bed, both sharing a few moments of innocent fun. It was surprising how impressed he seemed with her little joke, but there was no arguing with the look of approval he was giving her. As it always did, their laughter slowly faded into a comfortable silence, and though she had plenty more to say Carrie held her tongue.

"I'm really glad you're here," Carl mumbled a few minutes later, his voice heavy with exhaustion. "Thanks for coming."

Carrie smiled, glad to hear this. "I'm glad I'm here too. I'm sorry I didn't come sooner."

"It's okay, you didn't miss anything," he said off handedly, slowing moving onto his left hand side. "Well, except me puking on Michonne last night."

"Oh," she cringed, her stomach turning at the very thought of someone puking on another person. Even after all she had seen in the world, she still struggled to contain her disgust at this.

Carl gave a short laugh. "That'll teach her to beat me a chess."

This time she smiled now, but again she chose to hold her tongue, to not say any more. She could see the way he was relaxed into the pillows, the slow way his chest rose and fell as he began drifting off to sleep. Trying his best to stay awake he intermittently raised his hand, and Carrie watched on silently as he touched his face, his fingers pressed against his forehead as if resisting the urge to touch the bandage. He seemed a bit more comfortable now, perhaps not in as much pain as before, and when he finally lowered his hand and closed his eye she breathed a mental sigh of relief. She would have happily sat there talking with him for as long as he needed her to, but she wasn't going to pretend she wasn't glad for the break. They had talked about a lot in a short period of time, the subject heavy and tough for the both of them.

While Carl lay still and started to sleep she waited, knowing that when he was ready to Rick would be joining her. As she waited for him she looked around the room and noted that a sofa bed had been brought in, one that used to be in the downstairs games room at Deanna's house. She could picture Rick and Michonne taking alternating shifts spread out on the sofa bed, getting some rest there so Carl could be comfortable in the double bed. Looking at it now she wondered if she might spend the night at the Infirmary with him, if he would enjoy her company or if she would overstay her welcome.

Deciding to take things as they came, and reminding herself to ensure Daryl joined them for dinner, Carrie settled herself in to stay for a little while. Enjoying the peaceful silence she readjusted the way she sat, getting comfortable by putting her feet up on the bed and crossing them at the ankle. There was no telling how long she might be there that day, nor what would happen that might occupy her or pass the time, but she didn't care. She felt a sense of peace and calm, and somehow she knew she'd be able to sit there all day by Carl's bedside, not feeling impatient or bored by the lack of activity. It was an unusual state for her, for usually she preferred to keep herself occupied and busy, used to having things to do.

But just as Rick had told her, things were going to change. They had to, and not just for Carl. It worried her to be uncertain about the future, to not know exactly what to expect in the coming weeks and months, her worry reminding her about how she felt in the days that led up to her arrival to Alexandria. Like then, today she had only a small understanding of what was to come, and like then she had no choice but to let things unfold naturally. As she began dwelling on the uncertainties a small smile began to grace her face, reminding herself that today she had something in her corner just like she did the day she arrived here.

After everything that had happened she still had Rick by her side, though today she had him in a far greater capacity than ever before. In spite of her worry for the future, Carrie knew that they were going to be alright so long as they went in to this together, as the partners they already were.

* * *

Rick hated that he was too cowardly to go back inside and be with his son, but he simply couldn't bring himself to face him.

Seeing Carl come back out felt like a kick to the stomach, for although it was a relief to see him up on his feet again, it was a short lived feeling. Like the days before the first thing he laid eyes on was the bandage, and in his mind's eye he pictured the awful wound it was hiding. Even now there was still a part of him that expected something might have changed, that a miracle had occurred and his son was healed. Yet every time he looked and saw that bandage was still there he was crushed, the brief hope he had allowed himself to feel vanishing to be replaced with the helplessness and fear that was stronger. He didn't know why he kept holding out hope that something had changed, why in the back of his kind he was still searching for an answer, a solution to the problem. He was Carl's father…he was supposed to know how to fix things.

So when he came out of the bathroom with that bandage still around his head, the hope that was crushed saw him rooted to the spot, too cowardly to go in there and face the ongoing reality. He needed a few moments more of hope, to selfishly avoid having to be strong in front of Carl for just a little longer. He hated to leave Carrie on her own, to ask her to go in there without him, but in that moment he just couldn't bring himself to hold it together. Losing control of his emotions in front of Carl couldn't happen, not yet.

Fifteen minutes had passed before he found the courage to act, to finish the cigarette he had smoked as if his light depended on it. He lingered just long enough that the smell might dissipate before going back inside, fully prepared to keep himself together and return to his son's side, and then something stopped him. Given the circumstances it was particularly absurd, but there was no mistaking the sound of laughter coming from Carl's hospital room. He could hear them both laughing in there, Carl and Carrie somehow managing to find a source of amusement in the midst of the agony, and it was then that Rick knew he could delay a little longer.

Michonne had implored him to take some time for himself that day, and with Carrie keeping Carl company Rick slipped away from the Infirmary, having someone else he wanted to be with for a little while.

"Still not out here?" he asked Enid as he passed her by.

"Not out here."

Resisting the urge to linger and listen outside the window just incase he had been mistaken about the laughter, Rick hastened home to collect a few things. Like the night before it felt strange to be back there. Collecting the satchel he took outside the walls he stuffed some books inside followed by a blanket from the crib, and then downstairs he lingered to make a small cup of formula for Judith. When Carol stopped by the Infirmary earlier Judith was already enjoying the company of Bob and Natalie, and so he had missed seeing her. Carol wouldn't mind being relieved of her charge for a little while, and though he had already agreed he would be home in time to bathe and put her into bed, Rick longed to see his daughter. When he joined them by the lake side it felt wonderful to pick Judith up and bring her into his arms, almost as joyful as it felt to see how eagerly she ran to him, the look of happiness on her face when he peppered her cheek with kisses. Like she often did she scrunched up her face and turned away, protesting the roughness of his unshaved jaw before relenting.

To his relief Bob and Natalie kept their enquiries about Carl to a minimum, allowing to embellish the details in his answer before departing with Judith carried on his hip. They made the short walk around the lake at a delayed pace, Rick simply enjoying the opportunity to hold her in his arms, to hear her talking to him as they reconnected after two days apart.

"Now?" he asked as he passed Enid again.

"Nope."

Despite being glad she wasn't ready to see Carl, Rick couldn't help but smile at her presence there, proud of the friendship that had developed between the two. Though she refused to come in and see him, her dedication to sitting a vigil outside the Infirmary was admirable. As it was when he left the Infirmary was peaceful, Denise still at her desk and the sound of laughter having died down now. Gently bouncing Judith on his hip he warned her about the impending nap time, giving her cup of formula a gentle shake before warming it in the microwave.

Judith took the cup only reluctantly, and her confusion at being at the Infirmary meant she was quiet when they entered Carl's room, her eyes casting about the softly lit space as she tried to work out what was going on. Juggling her and the backpack Rick took a pump of hand sanitiser and made sure to rub it into her hands too, and it was then he properly looked to Carl and Carrie. It was a relief to find his son looking peaceful, his head resting on the pillow and his body relaxed. All morning he'd been unwell, his body protesting all that had happened to it and rendering him doubled over with cramps or stuck in the bathroom. Glad to see him resting now Rick came further in and looked at the chair where Carrie sat, one foot tucked beneath her leg as she watched over him. When she looked up at him she smiled, her smile growing when she saw Judith with him too.

"He's been asleep for about five minutes," she whispered.

"I'm not asleep," Carl swiftly rebuked her, though his voice was heavy with exhaustion.

Murmuring his gratitude to her, Rick set Judith down into the narrow sofa and came closer to Carl, straightening the blankets as he went. "Your sister's here. I figured she can take her nap with you."

At this Carl opened his eye and raised his head, but he seemed too lethargic to show how he really felt. "Hey Judy."

Rick glanced over his shoulder at her, not surprised to find she was standing on the sofa and peering at her brother uncertainly. She was confused by what was happening, intimidated by the large bandage wound around his head, and she didn't say anything in response. Leaving her be he turned back to Carl, readjusting the pulse-oximeter and glancing at the monitor to read the vital signs. He was now too familiar with all of those readings, but the two days of experience now gave him the ability to reassure himself with just a quick glance.

"Do you need to get up again?" he asked, offering his assistance. "Bathroom?"

"No," Carl mumbled, lifting his head again. "Where's that pillow? The big square one."

Understanding what he was getting at, Rick got Carrie's attention and gestured to the far corner where the pillow lay, asking for her help. Without hesitation she unfurled her legs and got up, hastening to the corner to fetch it after it had been tossed aside that morning. Thanking her as she passed it he helped Carl sit up and then turn onto his other side, wanting to lay on his right without putting pressure on his face. It had taken some effort, but once he was comfortable this had been how he spent the night sleeping, the pillows perfectly arranged to provide maximum comfort.

Getting comfortable again Carl muttered a few words of thanks before relaxing into the pillows, and Rick suspected that within minutes he would finally be fast asleep. On the other side of the bed Carrie hovered, straightening the blankets before reaching over to pull the IV cord out from under his elbow, untwisting it and passing it to Rick to hang up. Though it was completely new to them it felt perfectly natural to have her there, for her to be by his side as they helped Carl settle in to get some rest.

Breaking the silence Judith finally found her voice, pointing to Carl and vocalising a question that Rick managed to interpret. "Yes," he answered her, coming back and picking her up. "You're both having a nap."

"Oh," Judith frowned, still looking at Carl in uncertainty.

Nevertheless she cooperated as he set her down onto the other side of the bed, and judging by the apprehensive look she gave him there was little concern about her reaching over and accidentally hurting him. While Carrie returned to her chair with a heavy sigh, Rick passed Judith her cup and blanket before opening the book of her choice and beginning to read aloud to her. He had never enjoyed reading aloud to his children, this having just been one activity he had never favoured, but today he relished in the opportunity, having taken for granted what the few minutes spent with them truly meant.

Sooner than he expected Judith turned away from him, losing interest in the books and instead turning her attention to Carl. As she drank from her cup she lay there scrutinising him, making Rick glad that he wasn't awake to see how closely he was being studied. Moving slowly so as to not disturb her Rick got up from the bed and lay the blanket over her, his heart missing a beat when she turned and looked at him accusingly. He knew what that look meant, that she had taken note of his premature departure and was unhappy about it, but to his relief she seemed to let it go. Holding her glare for a moment longer she turned away in a huff, clutching her cup as she finished drinking the rest of it.

Knowing that she too would be asleep in minutes Rick crept away slowly, sharing a sigh of relief with Carrie. She had been watching them, a small smile on her face throughout every moment. Sinking down onto the sofa he pulled off his shoes and socks, kicking them under the bed to where they wouldn't be in the way, and then he turned to Carrie.

"Come sit with me?"

She was slow to act, perhaps considering his request for a moment, but then she sat up and began removing her shoes too. As she came over she was looking at Carl and Judith, her expression warm and content as she watched them together. Sitting down beside him with a heavy sigh she took his hand and draped it around her shoulder, the two of them moving for a few moments to get comfortable, and then they settled. A few minutes passed in silence, and it wasn't until he was certain Judith was sleeping that he spoke. "What were you two laughing about earlier?"

Looking at them both as they slept, Carrie smiled. "He told me a really terrible joke," she said in exasperation. "What's the definition of bravery?"

Rick chuckled, already knowing the answer. "He likes that joke. He's told it a couple of times, usually when someone has the stomach flu."

She was shaking her head to herself, and when she turned away he touched his hand to the top of her shoulder, softly saying her name until she looked back at him. "Thank you," he said quietly, holding her gaze. He hoped she knew what he meant, that he was grateful she was there with him today, that she had been able to go on ahead without him while he lingered back a little longer.

Understanding just as she always did, she leant over and pressed her lips to his cheek, softly murmuring that she loved him. He responded in kind, grateful to hear those words again and needing to say them out loud back.

"You know, we never did finish what we were talking about out there," he said softly, holding her gaze a little longer.

"About me stepping back the way you are?"

"Yes. I'd like you with me. With us," he clarified. "We can start being a family together. What happened doesn't have to stop that."

A moment passed, Carrie looking at him before slowly nodding her agreement. "I'll step back too," she assured him. "We'll focus on us, on your kids an-"

"Our kids," he corrected her, looking her in the eyes. "Our kids…our family."

There was no mistaking the impact of these words, Rick noticing the way her expression softened even further, the way her lips turned upward every so slightly. "Our kids," she agreed. "Our family."

"I'd like that."

Still smiling she leant over and kissed him, letting her lips linger a few moments before she pulled away and got comfortable again leaning against him. "I might even marry you one day."

"I'd like that too," he smiled, unable to resist pressing his lips against the crown of her head. But then he frowned, his face falling a little. "Wait…might?"

He relaxed a little when he felt her chuckling. "Treat 'em mean, keep 'em keen," she teased.

While he was glad to hear her laughing, he rolled his eyes and scoffed. "I'll make a wife outta you. Just watch."

"You sound very certain of that. Don't go getting cocky."

"It's not cocky if you know," he said softly. Reaching down her left arm he slipped his hand overs hers to hold it, the new absence of his wedding ring particularly meaningful. "And I know."

Carrie didn't say anything more on the subject, but Rick knew he had her in agreement. She had sighed and settled her body against his, turning her hand over beneath his and entwining their fingers. The peaceful silence returned now, the two of them revelling in the brief moment of happiness they were allowed to enjoy before inevitably facing reality. Soon enough Judith would awaken from her nap, and then later Carl too would awaken, inevitably needing something. He was going to be in here for some time, and even after that it was going to be a long road, one in which he would need Rick's support for. But despite the dread he felt about the implications for Carl's future, Rick was certain that they were going to make it there together.

In that moment, right there in Carl's hospital room, Rick had absolutely everything he needed.

* * *

Prologue - The Larger World

Saturday 19th July

An hour in and the welcome party was in full swing, the residents of Alexandria having gone all out to welcome the five outsiders who were in attendance. With the exception of those on watch the entire community had turned up for the evening, bringing with them an abundance of food and drink the likes of which the outsiders hadn't seen for years. Music played from the church's speaker system, softly so as to not be heard outside the walls, while children were fluttering about playing, enjoying the wide selection of food they were allowed to indulge in. Like everyone's did, their gaze constantly fell upon the outsiders, the people who had apparently spent the last six days acclimating to the community.

Maintaining an outward appearance of contentment and extroversion, Lana clutched her ice cold beer and brought it to her lips, the cool taste of the alcohol soothing her. To the many who cast their eyes towards her she seemed confident and carefree, eager to meet and get to know everyone, while on the inside she was nervous and apprehensive. She and her group had been here for almost a week, and yet she was constantly on alert, waiting for something to happen. Any minute now something was going to go terribly wrong, it always did. Any minute now…

She cast her eyes around the crowded church, still trying to take it all in. It felt strange to be surrounded by so many people, particularly those were were at ease and relaxed, completely care free. The relative safety of Alexandria had not yet hit home for her…she wasn't even sure if she'd slept through the night yet. Every time she lay down and closed her eyes the fight for survival was still there, the sudden surges of adrenaline still seizing her. She could not yet relax, she could not yet let her guard down.

Sticking close with Sonja and Vetor she made the rounds of the church and engaged with people, answering their questions and listening to their introductions. Assimilating into this community was going to take a little while that was for sure, for although many of them came across as very capable and self-aware, some did not. It was immediately apparent which of the Alexandrian's had been here since the very start, though judging by what Aaron and Daryl had told her on the journey here those people had come a long way.

As the leader of her small group, most people's interest and questions seemed to be directed to her, not that she had to speak much. Vetor and Sonja answered for her, giving her the opportunity to gauge these people, and to look around for one in particular. She was glad she didn't have to do much talking, for as if she needed to draw more attention to herself. God, what she wouldn't give to meet another Australian, to hear a voice that sounded like her own. It was bad enough that people noticed her for her face and body, but it was the accent that made her stand out like a sore thumb. Some American's loved her accent, always begging her to say annoying catch phrases from Crocodile Dundee, whereas it irritated others. Either way, it was just another reminder that even within her own group, Lana was an outsider.

Keeping up with the conversation and contributing only as necessary, Lana kept her eyes flittering about the room, still looking around for that one person in particular. She wasn't just here to meet people and get drunk, though the latter had its appeal…she had a goal in mind, something she needed to start working at. It was a task only for her, one that fell to her as the leader regardless of whether or not she really called the shots. Although she couldn't see him, she did catch a glimpse of someone close to him…the kid.

What was that kid's name?

From the corner of her eye she watched him, not surprised to see the kid was sticking close to the woman whose name she also struggled to recall. Michelle? Those two were all but joined at the hip tonight, the kid staying by her side wherever they went. Frankly Lana didn't blame him for sticking close to someone he obviously trusted. Losing an eye was probably quite the blow, and was a likely explanation as to why she had only seen him twice in the six days she had been here. She had caught a glimpse of him sitting on the front porch at his house, and then at the church tonight. He didn't seem to get out much, though she couldn't tell if that was by choice or by restriction.

With her first beer of the night finished, Lana politely excused herself from the group she was with, wondering if there really was enough for each person to be rationed two. As she passed by Vetor he reached out and touched her arm, looking at her with the intensity she was intimately familiar with. He gestured to the far end of the church, silently reminding her of what she needed to do…as if she needed reminding at all. Pulling her arm away she continued on, needing the second drink. She was sure of herself, she knew what men liked and how to get their attention, but something told her this wasn't going to be as easy as usual.

At the drinks table Lana scoped the far side of the church and set her eyes onto certain people, having already ascertained who might pose a threat to her and her group's plans. It was her mistrust of these people that drove her to break into Deanna's home office and steal her box of video tapes, easily gaining access to them thanks to everyone's habit of leaving their doors unlocked. Taking the box back to her place she hid away in her bedroom to watch the video interviews, wanting to gain a greater insight into the people who she expected to stand in the way of her plans, but there was one interview that captured her attention the most. Moving a little further around the church Lana finally set her eyes on the man she had been looking for, the one who was going to be the focus of her attention that evening. Rick Grimes, Alexandria's co-leader, stood at the far end of the church with a beer in hand and a relaxed smile on his face.

It had taken her well over a minute of watching the interview to realise who it was, to make the connection to the man who had greeted her group at the gate six days prior. That man had been barefoot and in track pants, so surprised by their arrival he still had a butterfly clip in his hair and finger paint on his hands. On the other hand the man on the video tape had been rough and intimidating, his stare one of cold suspicion. That's what had gotten Lana the most about his video interview, his eyes. The light blue colour seemed piercing against the contrast of his dirty skin and wild hair, and even on video tape it felt like they might look right into your soul, seeing a person for what they really were.

Looking at Rick now, Lana studied him from a distance, taking in as much about him as she could. Being only the third time she had actually laid eyes on him she knew only what she had heard through gossip and rumours, though the information rendered by Aaron and Daryl was infinitely more trustworthy. Back in the old world Rick had been a cop, and had been his group's leader from almost the very beginning of the outbreak. Not one of his people seemed to have a bad word to say about him, though Lana was sure that if they did they wouldn't be sharing it with her. Either way she detected a fierce sense of loyalty among him and his group, one it seemed the rest of the Alexandrian's had begun to develop too.

Tonight Rick seemed as casual and at ease as everyone else, though the way his hand often drifted to the handle of his Colt indicated that just like she, he was on constant alert. Nevertheless he chatted animatedly with those around him, laughing at a joke Carter had made…judging from the jokes she had heard from him earlier Rick was laughing out of politeness. Lana braced herself with a generous sip of beer, figuring this might be a good time to make her way on over. He was comfortable and at ease, but more importantly he was surrounded by his guy friends. If he was like most men he'd be quietly pleased to have a woman showing interest in him, but particularly if it was in front of other men.

But just as she was about to start over there Lana stopped, seeing her place had been taken by someone else. Out of nowhere appeared a woman with shoulder length blonde hair, one who she immediately recognised as Carrie. Given the family's reclusiveness it had taken days for Lana to learn that the community's leader had a son and daughter, let alone a wife.

 _No_ , she corrected herself. _Girlfriend_.

There were no wedding rings on either of their hands, that had been easy enough to ascertain through their limited interactions. Though it was rather a deterrence to know that he was in a serious relationship, it wasn't going to stop Lana completely. What she planned to do wasn't personal. It wasn't even about genuine attraction or lust, though she appreciated that he was a good looking man. Being in a relationship didn't stop every man from receiving the advances of another woman…hell, Lana didn't even have to fuck him to achieve what she wanted. Sometimes her interest in them or the sheer possibility of having her was enough to get her way. Rick being in a relationship wouldn't stop her trying to manipulate him to her advantage.

As comfortable as life here could be, Lana and her group had no intention of staying. All they needed was enough food and weapons to start over somewhere, enough supplies to get them started and on the road to self sufficiency. The food and general supplies would be easy to take, even with Olivia's meticulous record keeping, but it was the armoury that was proving difficult. Inch thick solid doors and combination deadbolts were a little tricker…which was where Rick came in. It seemed that although a good dozen or so Alexandrians had access to the armoury, that access had been expressly denied to Lana and her group. That needed to change.

Wondering if she was about to lose her first opportunity, Lana watched as Carrie said something to him, and when she turned a little she revealed the baby she carried on her hip. She passed the baby over to Rick, and Lana couldn't help but smile as he raised her into the air above his head. The fair haired girl shrieked and kicked her legs wildly, clearly enjoying the game. Bringing her back down to a more acceptable height he kissed her on the cheek and then reached for the small pink bag Carrie held. He left now, and not for the first time Lana noticed that he didn't kiss Carrie on the cheek, he didn't touch her hand as he passed her by. This wasn't the first time that she had noticed they weren't an affectionate couple. Her third day here she had watched from afar for as they tended the gardens and cleaned out the chicken coop together, and not once did they show a hint of physical affection. It was no wonder that it took her days to realise Carrie was his girlfriend, that they had lived together for months. Lana hoped this was a sign of trouble, that Rick was positively starved for affection and intimacy. Maybe it would be easier than she expected to get him into her bed.

With him gone for now Carrie lingered and took his place, talking happily with those he left behind. She gestured to the plaster cast on her arm, perhaps explaining why she had relinquished the baby whose name Lana couldn't remember. But though Carrie smiled and talked animatedly, Lana knew that it was a facade, that it was bullshit. She had met Carrie twice since her arrival, and both times she had been glad to hear she wasn't on the run crew anymore, that she was uninvolved in the day to day running of Alexandria. Carrie seemed to have a fragile look about her, her cheeks always pale and her demeanour quiet. She had not yet seen her looking comfortable and relaxed, her brow often pinched into a frown.

Carrie smiled with her mouth, but not her eyes.

* * *

A/N I'd like to say a huge thanks to my beta readers AngieB/angelcat70 (who helped with the previous story and up to chapter 35 here), and to fester01 who has taken over for recent and future chapters. These guys are a great help to me, thanks!

Now a wonderful thank you to my many readers, and to my reviewers! I don't get paid to write this story, and so many times I feel like chucking it all in and abandoning the story, leaving it to play out only in my head - but it's your enjoyment and you're reviews that keep me going back for hour after hour to write. Thanks to you guys for your encouragement and especially your enthusiasm - seeing how excited/appalled/shocked/thrilled/disappointed/happy etc you are is hugely rewarding, and I can't wait to read your thoughts on the final chapter, and on the prologue/new OFC.

The Larger World - full Prologue/Chapter 1 to be posted in 1-2 weeks. Like the previous two, this story takes on the plot lines of Season 6 and 7, but with my own twist. It picks up one month after the events of 58. Nothing is quite the same, things happen in different sequences, different characters are involved - I think it's going to make for a great sequel that will hopefully do Rick and Carrie justice.

Until then, happy reading and reviewing!


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